Nov 062014
 

A while back, we had decided (I had decided) that we should stop seeing one another. Our interactions were not going smoothly, and I felt as if, honestly, if our interactions weren’t going smoothly, we shouldn’t subject ourselves to them.

But a few weeks after I’d communicated that decision, she pinged me, in a way that didn’t feel bad. I responded. We had a flirty back and forth. And before we knew it, I was watching her bend down, showing me her ass in leggings as I’d requested, from a second-story window. While I had found our interactions, toward the end, frustrating, I definitely wanted to see her again, to touch her again, to feel her mouth on my cock again.

She came into the room wordlessly. I squeezed her ass. It felt, predictably, phenomenal in the leggings. I spun her around, taking in the sight.

“Kneel in front of me,” I said. “Tease my cock.”

This she did.

I had her remove her top – a white t-shirt – for me. Then, her black bra. She kneeled again, tending, once more, to me. She lowered her mouth to my jeans, breathing hotly on the bulge in them. I stood, removed my belt, looped it around her neck, and then removed my jeans.

More teasing, through my boxers. I stood again. I lowered my boxers to my ankles, stepped out of them, and I grabbed hold of her head by her blonde hair. I held her head above my cock. I trailed my cock along her lips, against her cheek. I pressed my cock into her mouth, deep, as far as it would go.

“For how long do you imagine you could entertain yourself (and me) sucking it?” I had asked her this earlier that week.

She had dodged, somewhat non-responsively: “I’d imagine as long as it continues to please you (and me),” she had written. “I would speculate that you’d imagine infinitely,” she had added.

I probed further: “But how long would it continue to please you?”

“I’d say physically I could probably keep it up for an hour + non-stop, longer with practice I presume, but I’m sure it would please me for ages.…”

In the event, the answer was about an hour. Or at least, that’s when I stopped her, when I reached for a condom, when I told her I wanted to ride my cock. I had, now that I think of it, spent not a few of those minutes devouring her cunt, so I suppose it was a bit less than an hour.

I reached for a condom, but the one I got was bad. “Remember?” she said. “That one irritated me, made my mouth numb.” I had brought two kinds of condoms. I reached for the other kind. She examined it. “I don’t know,” she said. “This has spermicidal lubricant.”

I wasn’t thinking too straight at that point. I just wanted to feel my cock inside of her.

She put the condom on me, and slowly lowered herself down onto me.

GOD, that felt good. I thought. I’m sure I said.

We fucked for a while. Not that long. Just long enough. “I’m gonna come,” I said. And no sooner said than done, I filled the condom inside of her, letting out a LONG groan.

I recently read (where?) that a man’s orgasm typically lasts six seconds. This seems wrong to me. I’m pretty sure my orgasms last over a year. At least, in the moment, they do.

I guided my cock, and the condom, out of her pussy, and rolled over. “You should get dressed,” I said.

She waited a moment. She got up. She got dressed. She came back to the bed. “Feels pretty transactional…” she said.

I had thought our communication had been sufficiently problematic in our most recent go-rounds that less communication and more sex might serve us better. But she was right. It did feel transactional just to send her on her way. In a different context, in a different relationship, that could be super-hot. But not when things had been how they had been between us.

She sat on the bed, dressed. I lay on it, nude. We talked, for over an hour. About Canada, mostly, for reasons that are obscure.

“Do you have another woman coming?” she asked.

“Um, no,” I said. “I’m not a two-women-in-a-night kind of guy.”

“Um, yes you are,” she corrected me.

“Well, no I don’t,” I said, truthfully.

“What will you do after I leave?” she asked.

“I’ll shower,” I said, “then get dressed, and then, probably, leave.”

It was cold in the room. She stood up and left. I got in the hot hot shower and stayed there for half an hour or so, just enjoying the water streaming over me.

  2 Responses to “The Rockette dances again”

  1. wish I can have the same kind of experience !

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