The Stairwell 1

This is a story told if for no other reason than I have never told anyone before, and would like to be able to talk about it. I'm not one to kiss (or fuck) and tell, but I would love the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of Lonely Island and declare that "I just had sex!"

Okay, so maybe I didn't "just" have sex; this happened a few years ago. But it was still pretty amazing, and served as the true beginning to me exploring my more sexual self.

Her name was Nichole. We met online, and immediately struck up a friendship. We met face-to-face a week after we started emailing. I had no idea what to expect, but it was definitely something other than what I encountered. She could read me like almost no one I had ever met, and also didn't have any problems with telling me exactly what she saw. There was an honesty that I was not expecting, and I found her completely magnetic. We talked for two hours, but I could have stayed at that restaurant all night.

She was incredibly attractive, but not the kind of woman that you would expect to turn heads. These days, if you want to make guys pop wood, you were expected to look like Barbie—stick thin, blonde hair, big boobs. Instead, she looked more like a pinup girl. Beautiful, alluring face, ample tits, emphasized hips, amazing legs. The kind of girl you'd expect to see on your grandpa's forearm, accompanied by a story of life on a battleship fighting the Japanese. Her auburn hair had just enough red to it to indicate that it couldn't be real. But damn, did it look good on her.

As a married guy, I wasn't supposed to think about her. I was supposed to be happy and content with my life. But I went home that night and crawled into bed, with my wife curled up by herself on the far side of the bed, wondering what it would be like to have Nichole next to me. I drifted off to sleep thinking about how her tits felt pressed up against me as we hugged goodbye.

Over the next few weeks we exchanged emails, meeting up when our schedules allowed. Our conversations covered the gamut, from frustrations with coworkers to favorite music, sexual preferences and experiences to "all your thoughts on God." As the chemistry became more evident, we became more intent on spending time together whenever we thought there was even a chance we could squeeze a rendezvous in—lunches together, mutual shopping trips, commuting to work together. Despite my own fantasies of fucking her, I still thought this was a fairly innocent practice, as we were just hanging out. I've always been one to show affection physically, so I ignored the fact that our hugs upon meeting were more than just a friendly arm around the shoulder in greeting.

Then one night, we agreed to meet for drinks after work. I thought, 'we're having drinks. We're in public. It's not like I'm going over to her house, or anything like that.' She was wearing black pants that accented her legs and ass in a way I still do not understand (but totally loved), and a button down dress shirt, the top four buttons undone ("have to let the girls breathe,"). The first thought I had when I saw her was, "damn, I don't think I've ever wanted to fuck someone more in my life." I seem to have forgotten about her uncanny ability to know everything I was thinking. As we sipped our first drinks, we began discussing my sex life, or more accurately, the lack thereof. At that point, it had been more than two weeks since my dick last had contact with anything other than my hand. She decided to drop a subtle reminder of her skill, and interest—"if you ever go more than 2 weeks without sex again, that is your own damn fault."

As the evening drew to a close we left the bar, walking to her car. (I had taken public transportation into work, and was using that as the excuse for getting a little extra time with Nichole.) As we left the bar and entered the parking garage, she grabbed my arm, pulled me close, and kissed me. Like, crazy kissed me. In a way that I wasn't really expecting, but that was completely reciprocal. It was a kiss that I'd never experienced before, one that said, 'I'm so hungry for you that I absolutely can't control myself.' I've NEVER been wanted like that. It was pretty awesome. And completely mutual. Except that I was afraid to admit it. I mean, I'm married. I'm not supposed to want someone else like that.

But after a couple mojitos, that part of me wasn't speaking very loud any more. I kissed back for a minute, but knew that this was sort of an awkward place to be making out, and we move on towards the car. It was one level up from the restaurant, and we had to take the stairs to get there. Little did I know, this was not a problem in the slightest.

As soon as the door to the stairwell closed, she was on me again. This time, I was a little more prepared, and was happy to return the favor. We kissed passionately, like we weren't sure we'd ever get the chance to do so again. After a few minutes, she pulled away, looked me in the eye with a carnal, animal-like look in her eye that I had never experienced before. All she could say was, "cock, now." She grabbed my hand, and pulled me up to the top of the stairs, where we would at least be out of the obvious path of others who might be using the same stairwell.

At the top of the stairs, she pulled her pants and down to her knees, grabbed a pipe running along the wall, and stuck her ass out at me. Holy fuck, was that a great looking ass. To quote Jack Black, "Damn, I want to put my hands upon your fucking sexy ass and squeeze!" But it she had more in mind than just squeezing. "Cock. Now." She said again.

I quickly got the hint, unzipped my fly, and pulled out my very hard dick. She reached between her legs to grab it, and guided me inside her. For as much experience as she says she's had (and I have absolutely no reason to question or doubt anything she has told me), I have no idea how she has stayed so tight. Feeling her entire pussy envelop me as I plunged my cock into her was an experience I had no idea could exist.

There was no need for lube—she was absolutely dripping for me already. I placed my hand on either hip, right where her waist curved out, the real-life pinup figure there for me to enjoy. Moans escaped from her lips with each thrust (a first for me) as I pulled her ass towards my pelvis. I cannot describe to you how incredibly arousing it was to see those shapely mounds of flesh, which she had worked so hard to sculpt, slapping against me.

The very nature of sex in a place like a parking garage is that it has to be done quickly. It was fortunate, then, that the combination of time since I'd had sex and the incredibly arousing scene that I never thought I would get to be a part of (rear entry, and in public!) meant I didn't last very long. Despite my trying to hold out, it took less than 90 seconds before I was shooting my load deep in Nichole's dripping pussy.

She held herself against me for a moment, not wanting to pull away and lose that magic that we had. Finally, out of exhaustion and a fear that I wouldn't be able to stand up any more, I had to take a step back. She pulled her pants up, noticed I was just standing there, a stupid, amazed look on my face, and stuffed me back into my pants, lest someone walk by and discover what we had been doing. We slowly walked back to the car, arm in arm, satisfied grins on both our faces.

We've fucked other times since then, and each experience was absolutely magical. But there was something about this one that will always stick with me. Our relationship has taken a turn recently, and while the friendship continues to grow, the sex is no longer a consistent part of it. But every time I need to draw on the "spank bank" now, I remember that time in the stairwell, and it does just fine.