How many times have we had sex now? Not more than half a dozen times in the last eight months. Blow jobs and hand jobs in the car don’t count. I am talking only about getting completely naked on a bed (or maybe the floor or on a sofa) and having real, good old fashioned sex.
The first time was wild. I know you didn’t plan it. Sitting on your sofa, and I took my shirt off, and then my pants, lying there next to you in my briefs. It started out as a hand job, then it turned into a blow job and when I followed you into the kitchen, I pulled down your leggings and we fucked standing up. Not all the way, as you may remember – you didn’t let me cum that time inside of you, but you then went back to sucking my cock and tasting the two of us intermingled, bringing me to my climax. I think we both had fun, but the transition from friends to lovers is always a bit awkward.
The second time? In your bedroom. We spent some time in your home office first, working on fixing your computer, and then we ended up watching television on your bed. You offered me a massage, and one by one the pieces of clothing came off. And you straddled me, with me face down on your bed, and you gave me a massage. Something about playing with my hard cock, though, and your mouth then became involved, and somehow I ended up inside of you. That was fun too.
By far the best sex was when we went away for that weekend. A Sunday night getaway, I played hooky from work on the Monday – ok, I actually booked it off as a vacation day. We drove the hour and a half together to the hotel, checked in, changed, and then went on a winery tour together, then we had a lovely dinner. The problem was (and I didn’t say anything at the time), I think I ate too much at dinner, and my stomach was a bit uncertain that evening. So maybe I was a bit tentative when we finally went to bed together, and I suppose I had the fear we all keep inside of us of farting during sex (literally – I wanted to keep it inside of me). Maybe after a while the comfort level increases, but even as close friends, we still had the newness of being lovers, the “be on our best behavior” mode in full swing.
There. I said it. I didn’t want to fart in bed with you after eating a huge dinner together.
So, like I said, I was a bit tentative. And then there was the wine. You knew I was not really a drinker, and even at the winery tour, I just had little sips and not a full glass. But you bought a special bottle for us, and then wanted to share it up in the room. And that was on top of the vouchers we had for free drinks at the bar, and heaven forbid we don’t use all the vouchers. I forget what you drank, but me? I don’t know rum from vodka on the best of days. I opted for rum and coke.
Rum and coke. Some wine. Add that to holding a huge fart inside of me for a few hours, and maybe you understand why I wasn’t fucking you as if the world were going to end the next day. I held back. Missionary was good, and I managed to do the deed in proper form and with good results. But then we tried doggy style.
Sometimes the stars are aligned. Sometimes they aren’t. All depends on how you look at it, but I think they were aligned for us. No sooner had you assumed the position, and I entered you from behind, you then put your head down on the pillow, your ass was in the air, and your pussy was filled with me thrusting into you. It felt so incredibly beautiful to be inside you that way.
Then came the blood. Maybe half a dozen thrusts into you. Blood. Not where you’d think it would come – no, bleeding from your pussy would have been too ordinary, and we could blame it on friction or a host of other things.
It came out of your nose.
The first time was wild. I know you didn’t plan it. Sitting on your sofa, and I took my shirt off, and then my pants, lying there next to you in my briefs. It started out as a hand job, then it turned into a blow job and when I followed you into the kitchen, I pulled down your leggings and we fucked standing up. Not all the way, as you may remember – you didn’t let me cum that time inside of you, but you then went back to sucking my cock and tasting the two of us intermingled, bringing me to my climax. I think we both had fun, but the transition from friends to lovers is always a bit awkward.
The second time? In your bedroom. We spent some time in your home office first, working on fixing your computer, and then we ended up watching television on your bed. You offered me a massage, and one by one the pieces of clothing came off. And you straddled me, with me face down on your bed, and you gave me a massage. Something about playing with my hard cock, though, and your mouth then became involved, and somehow I ended up inside of you. That was fun too.
By far the best sex was when we went away for that weekend. A Sunday night getaway, I played hooky from work on the Monday – ok, I actually booked it off as a vacation day. We drove the hour and a half together to the hotel, checked in, changed, and then went on a winery tour together, then we had a lovely dinner. The problem was (and I didn’t say anything at the time), I think I ate too much at dinner, and my stomach was a bit uncertain that evening. So maybe I was a bit tentative when we finally went to bed together, and I suppose I had the fear we all keep inside of us of farting during sex (literally – I wanted to keep it inside of me). Maybe after a while the comfort level increases, but even as close friends, we still had the newness of being lovers, the “be on our best behavior” mode in full swing.
There. I said it. I didn’t want to fart in bed with you after eating a huge dinner together.
So, like I said, I was a bit tentative. And then there was the wine. You knew I was not really a drinker, and even at the winery tour, I just had little sips and not a full glass. But you bought a special bottle for us, and then wanted to share it up in the room. And that was on top of the vouchers we had for free drinks at the bar, and heaven forbid we don’t use all the vouchers. I forget what you drank, but me? I don’t know rum from vodka on the best of days. I opted for rum and coke.
Rum and coke. Some wine. Add that to holding a huge fart inside of me for a few hours, and maybe you understand why I wasn’t fucking you as if the world were going to end the next day. I held back. Missionary was good, and I managed to do the deed in proper form and with good results. But then we tried doggy style.
Sometimes the stars are aligned. Sometimes they aren’t. All depends on how you look at it, but I think they were aligned for us. No sooner had you assumed the position, and I entered you from behind, you then put your head down on the pillow, your ass was in the air, and your pussy was filled with me thrusting into you. It felt so incredibly beautiful to be inside you that way.
Then came the blood. Maybe half a dozen thrusts into you. Blood. Not where you’d think it would come – no, bleeding from your pussy would have been too ordinary, and we could blame it on friction or a host of other things.
It came out of your nose.
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Yes, I fucked you so hard, I made your nose bleed. Blood on the pillow. Blood on the sheets. Pull my cock out of your pussy and grab a box of tissues. How long did it take for the bleeding to stop? Half an hour? By then we were approaching midnight, and we were both tired, and all we could manage (since we didn’t want your nose to start gushing again) was some cuddling.
Cuddling is nice. It’s very nice. Perfect when you are with someone you care about. You wore your sexy panties and a t-shirt, and I had on my Angry Birds boxers that I picked up at Walmart.
The fucking wasn’t for as long as we had planned, a nose bleed coming in to stop the festivities. We didn’t sleep naked together either – maybe that isn’t your style. I think I came once when we were in the first round, and you did too.
But we slept together, very close. Close enough that you had to listen to me snore half the night (blame the wine or the rum), and close enough that I couldn’t get away with farting in bed with you (I waited until you fell asleep and then went to the bathroom – relief of a different kind).
Oh, and I forgot the bath at night. Before bed. That was sexy too, you sitting back in the big tub, and me sitting in front of you in the soapy hot water. The jets circulating the hot water (yes, this was my first time in a Jacuzzi, a point you wouldn’t let me forget). Our bodies soaking in the hot, hot water. Did I mention the water was hot? Scalding. I found out you like it that way. Me? I am a warm water kind of guy. Ten minutes in the tub and I thought I would pass out from the heat.
We woke up in the morning together. Ok, I woke up first, and watched you lying there beside me. I won’t lie – it was a rough night for me, not too much sleep, and memories of alcohol, scalding water and a nose bleed still fresh in my mind (along with the fart that threatened to scuttle everything).
Oh, and I forgot it was your period too. So you were not comfortable with me going down on you, even though it doesn’t bother me in the least. I would have licked your wet and delicious pussy for hours if you had let me, period or no period. I love you no matter what. There. I said it. I love you no matter what.
We woke in the morning. I showered alone. I was half asleep and did not get the hint about us showering together. That would have been fun too. A missed opportunity because, quite frankly, I haven’t spent that many nights in hotels with women whom I adore and want to make love with all night long. Call me an amateur. So I showered and dressed on my own and read the newspaper, while you threw on some shorts and a top and your running shoes and went for a long run outside.
We went for breakfast a bit later, and then took a walk together before getting back to the car and heading back home. Twenty-four hours together and virtually nothing proceeded according to the script we both had etched into our minds. I think we both had expected everything to be perfect, like some romantic scene in a movie.
Instead we had booze and blood and intestinal gas, mixed in with a scalding bath and solo showers.
It was the best sex I have ever had!
Thank you, my love, for being human and imperfect, just as I hope I am in your eyes. Those two qualities only make you all the more extraordinary to me, and I hope we share many more imperfect nights together.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that after all of that, as we cuddled together in the darkness and you held me close, and as you fondled my (by then) soft penis so lovingly and with a tenderness unmatched, no matter what you did, you couldn’t get me hard again.
Like I said, the best sex I ever had.
Cuddling is nice. It’s very nice. Perfect when you are with someone you care about. You wore your sexy panties and a t-shirt, and I had on my Angry Birds boxers that I picked up at Walmart.
The fucking wasn’t for as long as we had planned, a nose bleed coming in to stop the festivities. We didn’t sleep naked together either – maybe that isn’t your style. I think I came once when we were in the first round, and you did too.
But we slept together, very close. Close enough that you had to listen to me snore half the night (blame the wine or the rum), and close enough that I couldn’t get away with farting in bed with you (I waited until you fell asleep and then went to the bathroom – relief of a different kind).
Oh, and I forgot the bath at night. Before bed. That was sexy too, you sitting back in the big tub, and me sitting in front of you in the soapy hot water. The jets circulating the hot water (yes, this was my first time in a Jacuzzi, a point you wouldn’t let me forget). Our bodies soaking in the hot, hot water. Did I mention the water was hot? Scalding. I found out you like it that way. Me? I am a warm water kind of guy. Ten minutes in the tub and I thought I would pass out from the heat.
We woke up in the morning together. Ok, I woke up first, and watched you lying there beside me. I won’t lie – it was a rough night for me, not too much sleep, and memories of alcohol, scalding water and a nose bleed still fresh in my mind (along with the fart that threatened to scuttle everything).
Oh, and I forgot it was your period too. So you were not comfortable with me going down on you, even though it doesn’t bother me in the least. I would have licked your wet and delicious pussy for hours if you had let me, period or no period. I love you no matter what. There. I said it. I love you no matter what.
We woke in the morning. I showered alone. I was half asleep and did not get the hint about us showering together. That would have been fun too. A missed opportunity because, quite frankly, I haven’t spent that many nights in hotels with women whom I adore and want to make love with all night long. Call me an amateur. So I showered and dressed on my own and read the newspaper, while you threw on some shorts and a top and your running shoes and went for a long run outside.
We went for breakfast a bit later, and then took a walk together before getting back to the car and heading back home. Twenty-four hours together and virtually nothing proceeded according to the script we both had etched into our minds. I think we both had expected everything to be perfect, like some romantic scene in a movie.
Instead we had booze and blood and intestinal gas, mixed in with a scalding bath and solo showers.
It was the best sex I have ever had!
Thank you, my love, for being human and imperfect, just as I hope I am in your eyes. Those two qualities only make you all the more extraordinary to me, and I hope we share many more imperfect nights together.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that after all of that, as we cuddled together in the darkness and you held me close, and as you fondled my (by then) soft penis so lovingly and with a tenderness unmatched, no matter what you did, you couldn’t get me hard again.
Like I said, the best sex I ever had.
