She’s younger than most women to whom I find myself attracted. In fact, there are a number of ways she’s different from the women to whom I most often find myself drawn.
If she’s submissive, her submission hasn’t yet made itself evident: she has said “no” to even the simplest requests (open your thighs for me, please). She hasn’t (yet?) had an orgasm. In her life. She doesn’t like to masturbate. She doesn’t like to get horny unless she knows she will be hooking up.
If I don’t feel horny, I actively seek the sensation, to counter my frequent sense of deadness.
And yet…. (Or maybe, “And so….”)
She has deep, brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her breasts are full – c-cup, I would guess, but they look larger on her tiny (just over 5-foot) frame. She’s slender. Her lustrous brown hair is long enough to wrap around a fist once or twice.
She’s interested in inspiring me, and, at least so far, she has.
I’m intrigued by her relationship to her sexuality, to her pussy. (“Don’t use the word ‘cunt.’ It turns me off,” she said.) In a way that makes perfect sense to me, but that I’ve rarely encountered in women, she treats entry into her pussy as a distinct category of intimacy. “What if I let you eat me out, but I don’t let you finger me?” At the time, I told her I’m good with boundaries, that I respect them. And I am, I do.
What I didn’t say is that the notion that I properly could go down on her and not place one, two, or more fingers in her pussy is a little confusing to me. (Her asshole remains relatively unexplored conversational territory for us, but my finger surely will hope for access there, as well.)
She has, at the time of writing, sent me exactly two (G-rated) photos, of her. In the first, she is wearing a red/maroon slinky, form-fitting dress that she generously allowed me to select for her to wear. It flatters her curves deliciously, and makes me want to snake a hand up under the dress, between her pale legs, and take the access she’s suggested may be somewhat hard to obtain. Her right hand rests, as she stands, facing the mirror, on her thigh, just next to the pussy she doesn’t particularly like touching. My cock is hard as I imagine her hand grabbing my cock, squeezing it.
In the second photo, she’s turned, maybe 45 degrees, just enough to show me the curve of her ass. (Her “small” ass, as she called it.) Because I still haven’t seen it, I can’t really discern anything other than that it will feel spectacular to grab it, hard, and pull it toward me, to pull her pussy against my cock, as we kiss for the first time.
I’m optimistic about Alexandra. And brimming with anticipation.
More – and hopefully, me – to come.