The truth is that I found him very attractive. It’s doesn’t always start with the physical though I did crave his body and what it did to mine. Chemistry can ignite on any number of levels. He sought intimacy, first and foremost, a true gfe experience, what he lacked with his wife. He needed to feel more than just a physical alliance. He needed to feel accents of friendship, comradery, an acceptance of his manhood without false illusions, what he no longer received at home.
He liked to explore my body but not only with his mouth or his member. His hands would caress me and while the urgency was there, age and wisdom had taught him foreplay of the mind. He would simply touch my body all over, nothing too complicated, just the sexual nourishment of skin touching skin. His fingers would trace the outline of my lips, then gently circle my nipples, working their way down to my navel, casually talking about his day, stress melting away. But his body told a different story. As we lay side by side, his person stood vertical and erect, oozing clear nectar that I longed to taste. Love making of the mind has that effect. It’s a controlled heat, white hot, conjuring an unspoken fervor that builds a slow pressure.
His seduction was decidedly slow though juices flooded my thighs in hurried anticipation. He flirted with time as each of our encounters was 4 hours minimum smoothly dismissing any anticipation of closure.
He would not end his sexless marriage of 25 years though the interaction, what brought them together in the first place, was long dead. Theirs was a tangled knot of charades, decades of mutual friends, mortgages, assets and 2 children in college. I represented peace and balance in his life. I filled the void. And I loved it. In the middle his sentence, I would kiss him, abruptly replacing the thought with a burning desire of what now needed to be expressed. That is when he took my trembling hand and placed it around his cock, already rock hard. If before I was the graciously feminine confidante, I quickly emerged as the naughty girl who needed to have it in her mouth immediately. He grabbed my hair gently yet firmly, an air of respect never forgotten and pushed my mouth below until my throat was engorged, lips sucking his shaft. The neglected man of 25 years now controlled the motion, manipulating my mouth up toward the swollen ridge that I lapped with the softness of my tongue. Just as the pulsating intensified, he pulled out and threw me back onto the bed. As he mounted me, our eyes locked and the peripheral world evaporated into nothingness.
Penetration delivered a celestial invasion and I screamed an insatiable ‘fuck me’. Again, ‘fuck me harder’ as he drank in the excitement that he caused, his erection hardening even more. I begged for his lips only this time with suction as I arched my back and offered my swollen nipples. It wouldn’t be long. But he knew how I wanted it. His strokes grew into rapid pumps of pounding force as he grasped my waist, pulling me into him. Animalistic thrusts released deep, throaty moans as the explosion was so close.
He pushed himself away from me, his member bouncing subtly in the cool air with the rigidity of a 25-year old man. He turned me over and pushed my back forward, stretching a deep arch, exposing the plump, roundness of my derrière. He immediately entered me again. I grasped for the sheets as he grabbed my hair and I cried out. His rhythm gained momentum. Frantic thrusts reverberated throughout my entire body to the ends of my fingertips as he panted and pounded harder, faster and deeper until he reached a violent climax. Sweat dripped from his chin onto my shoulders, running down my spine and puddling into the small of my lower back as he wilted over me, exhausted in ecstasy. And then, we both collapsed.
The champagne felt like liquid gold cooling my fevered mouth. As I returned from the bathroom freshly showered with my lips glossed and makeup refreshed, I noticed a small, chocolate brown pouch atop a pillow on the bed. He grinned, adjusting his shirt in the mirror. Slowly and quietly, I loosened the little, satin strings. I removed the drops of 2 strands of earrings, Russian, gold flower filigrees, ornate with Swarovski crystals and pearls. No doubt, the gift presented a perfect marriage to my Hérve Léger hourglass, pencil dress and he knew it.
The classically, understated gentleman that he was, announced our dinner engagement at one of my favorite restaurants, before I could even begin to express my enthusiasm.