Alex 22

Alex and I started with some messages on FetLife. The conversation was good--engaging but also a little conflicting, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I later found out he thought I was a catfish sending fake photos! I was intrigued by Alex, but also on alert for red flags. By the next day, though, he was being spicy--warming up every part of me with his words and ideas. If it was part of his plan, it worked.

He requested I greet him panty-less, then followed it with a simple instruction: "When you're getting ready tonight, I want you to lightly wash your pussy because I want to be able to smell the day on you." I was intrigued. It was the first time I'd heard this kind of request, but it was exciting to think this man wanted to enjoy my natural scent--something I've always been self-conscious about and tried to hide. It took the evening to a new level before it even began, and I was excited.

My workday was long, and I was exhausted, running on fumes. But the anticipation he created kept me awake.

I reread his spicy messages while I waited for a knock on the door. I felt unusually calm--or maybe that was just fatigue?

Either way, all of that vanished the moment I opened the door and he walked in. My heart raced, and my body--disrespecting my pleas to calm down--began to sweat, which only increased my nerves. Alex seemed calm, cool, and collected. He sat across from me. He was wearing gray sweat pants. I was definitely sneaking peeks at his groin area as he found easy things to chat about, including complimenting how pretty I looked and how much he liked me. At first, I thought he was just being polite, trying to make me feel comfortable, but eventually, I could tell it was genuine. All the while, I was squeezing all my muscles in an attempt not to jump his bones and take control. I had to remind myself I enjoy it more when my partner leads--and that I needed to slow down and let him.

Eventually, he took one of my cold feet into his warm hands and immediately complimented how nice they looked while rubbing them. My first instinct was to pull back--even though the attention felt amazing. I'm not used to someone eagerly rubbing my feet; it felt like a strange form of servitude. So unfamiliar it almost felt wrong. But I didn't want to offend him, so I let him continue. Soon, I found myself relaxing into it--then enjoying it so much I didn't care about whatever plans he had. This alone was great.

He rubbed up my ankle and calf before switching to the other foot. As I moved my right leg down and lifted my left, I could feel the moisture gliding between my thighs--and it wasn't just sweat. This foot thing was working better than I realized, and I was ready to pounce again.

Instead, I let him finish with my left foot before I was sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling across his lap, lowering myself until I could kiss him. He muttered something like "Oh God" before we began kissing, learning each other's rhythm. His hands wandered, eventually pulling off my shirt--the only thing I was still wearing. He explored my chest with his hands and mouth before his hand started to drift lower and slower, following the top of my thigh. At my knee, his fingers turned course and traced the back of my thigh towards the hottest part of me. But instead of continuing, he stopped and traced the same path back to my side.

I thought maybe he was trying to go slow--be a gentleman. So I moaned, close to his ear, and tightened my grip around him to encourage his hands to go further...much further. He used the same hand to retrace the path again, several more times, before finally letting his fingers slide past my lips and into my folds. I had no control over the gasp that escaped as he pressed and played gently in my wetness. That, too, seemed to be his breaking point--he quickly picked me up and laid me on the bed.

He undressed and climbed on top of me, kissing me all over, literally head to toe, letting out different noises of excitement. His mouth soon reached my already-heated pussy--at first just his breath, which sent me out of my head. Then came his tongue, slowly stroking from top to bottom, and soon his whole mouth seemed to be devouring me. After a while, he traveled back up to my mouth, then shifted so he was kneeling by my head. I was eager to move his hard cock from my hand to my mouth.

He seemed just as eager, watching as I circled my tongue around the head before sliding him in further, taking my time to soak each inch. I worked to take all of him, but he hit the back of my throat before I could reach his base. Still, I was enjoying the challenge. Meanwhile, his hands found their way back to my pussy. He played inside me, getting me close--then stopping before I could finish.

Eventually, he moved down again and began licking and stroking me with his tongue and fingers. I was soon begging to cum, and he didn't hesitate--though he didn't change a thing he was doing. His rhythm stayed the same, his fingers and tongue pulling and pushing my orgasm like ocean waves. But instead of crashing, the wave held me in its rise--like a dream where you're falling, expecting to hit bottom, but you never do. It was powerful, long-lasting, exquisite, and deeply fulfilling.

Eventually, my moans slowed, and he gently pulled away, only to slide his cock between my legs and into me. The pressure was delicious, like small pulses of pleasure all over again. He moved me through several positions before returning on top, grinding hard, and when I whispered for him to cum in me, he obliged. His groans mirrored the intensity of my own release--deep, rough, and raw. When he finished, he rolled to my side, spent and satisfied.

We cooled off together, my hand combing through his masculine chest hair, talking about life--our wants, our pasts, our futures. He described a beautiful home on two acres, with a pool and pond surrounded by trees. It sounded perfect. He told me how amazing I was, how much he'd like to find someone like me to share his little piece of heaven. And I imagined how nice it could be. He told me over and over that this is how it should be. That it could be like this forever. It drew an overwhelming amount of emotion from my depths and I was unable to stop tears from falling. Alex held me, comforted me, and told me it was okay. Everything I needed in the moment.

Even now, I think about those words and what felt like an offer--between the lines--for something more. But my body immediately rejected the idea of living with another man, even one who might worship me from head to toe. It takes me back to being a bored housewife, chained down and expected to serve with little in return.

It will be a while before I can consider another committed relationship--if ever. I'll never be able to fully thank Alex for what he gave me that night.