WARNING: THIS POST IS NSFW
I’ve met a couple of people. A couple of guys to be more specific. There is another couple that I’m hoping to meet at some point soon too. One has quite quickly developed into the type of friendship where we don’t leave his house very much and we spend most of it naked. I can’t put my finger completely on what it is about this guy that appeals to me. If I were to walk down the street and cross paths with him I wouldn’t look twice, I probably wouldn’t notice him at all to be frank. He is almost the opposite in many areas from the kind of guy that I would look at normally.
There is three specific things that I do like though.
He has the most intense stare of anyone I’ve ever met. It simultaneously turns me on and frightens me at the same time. I feel like he can see into me, like he’s seeing my secrets. At the same time it feels as if he’s trying to drink in every single inch of me, not wanting to forget anything. That turns me on. I feel like I’m one of the hottest women alive when I’m with him. I’ve never felt that way before. He can barely keep his hands to himself too. I met him at the train station the other night and the entire way back to his house he was touching me. Holding my hand, my shoulder, touching my hair, putting his around me. I truly feel as if I’m this amazing being that he just can’t get enough off. As overwhelming as it is, it’s also a turn on.
His accent. He’s Australian but he was raised until he was about nine or so in the US and for whatever reason he’s never gotten rid of his accent. We had been texting for a few days when he asked if he could call me. So at 11pm one night he called and when I heard him say “Hi” I immediately began grinning. The more we talked the more I liked it and him. I’ve got a bit of a thing for accents, not all accents but most. I’d only seen a couple of photos of him at this point and like I said, we’d texted but hearing his voice, I decided that I definitely wanted to meet him. We spent about three or four hours on the phone that night. He took the next day off work and then called me again that night and took the day after that off as well.
His text. He can text like I’ve never seen. He can describe the things he wants to do to me in such a way that I’m completely turned on within about five minutes. I then spend the rest of the day trying to devise ways that I can get to his house and just tear his clothes off. He’s been texting me like this everyday for about three weeks now. It’s killing me! I’m constantly horny and can’t think about much else. I don’t care what The Husband is doing with Triple C, not in the slightest. I’m actually pretty sure that he’s not getting the amazing sexual experience that I am.
He had spoken to me about a woman he’d met who he ended up sleeping with on their first date and it just got really awkward, so we’d agreed that we wouldn’t do that. I came up with the idea of going to the movies. When I met him though, I’m ashamed to say that I balked when I got my first view of him. He was tall, which I really like but that was all I could see that I liked. He went straight in and tried kissing me and I avoided it as much as I could. I couldn’t believe that he looked the way he did. I was so disappointed. I was annoyed with myself for caring too. We walked to the cinema and the entire way he just stared down at me. I could feel it. Actually feel it. We finally got into the cinema and within two minutes he was kissing me. I don’t know why I let him. I had the words he’d written floating around my head and I was listening to his accent. I figured that a kiss wouldn’t hurt. I could just tell him that it wasn’t going to work later on. He’s not even that great a kisser.
He asked me to sit on his seat with him and so I did. I could feel how hard he was and then he put his hand up my skirt and I just lost it. If the cinema wasn’t full I would have climbed on top of him then and there. I kept looking at him and thinking “What the fuck am I doing? Why do I want to this guy so badly?” Half an hour in and we are leaving and trying to work out the quickest way to get to his house. I won’t let him come to mine, I won’t even tell him where it is. I made him keep his hands to himself until we were at his place. So instead of touching me he continued to stare at me. That stare. I couldn’t work out if I looked funny, if he was laughing at me…
We got back to his place and pretty much straight to his room. I told him there would be no sex, under any circumstances. I desperately wanted him to fuck me but I wasn’t going to. Instead, he tore my clothes off, I tore his off and we had two hours of amazing foreplay. What that man can do with is fingers just blows my mind. I haven’t had that many orgasms, one after the other in a long time. Giving him head was pretty amazing too. Once again, I marvelled at the fact that I enjoyed doing it. He went crazy over it, climaxing after only a couple of minutes. He adored every inch of me, including all my flaws. I was still face palming myself and questioning my sanity in between orgasms. Eventually I needed to leave. That was when I became incredibly embarrassed. I couldn’t help it. I’d only met this guy face to face a couple of hours earlier and now I had visuals of what I’d let him do and what I had done to him. And it turned me on and I left feeling just as horny as I was when I’d walked in.
On a spare of the moment decision I went to his house Saturday night and spent the entire night. This was third time that we’d met and we’d gotten the clumsy sex out of the way the second time. The sex this time was more intense. He went a little harder than the first time, he’s starting to know how I like to be touched. I’m looking into his eyes, a little grin on my face, as I see the pleasure and the desire in them while I sit astride him, controlling the pace. We stopped and drank tea and chatted for a while before beginning all over again.
Today we talked about my habit to scratch. I have a tendency, when I’m just at the beginning of an orgasm and at the peak to dig my nails into whatever is within reach. I’ve learnt to keep my hands away from skin when I’m doing that. The American (which I’ve taken to calling him) has told me that he would like me to scratch him. He told me that he’s been treating me like a china doll, afraid that his size will cause him to break me. I kept wondering why, when he was taking me from behind that he just didn’t go for it, now I know. I would give anything to go and see him today, tonight, tomorrow but I can’t. I won’t be able to more than likely until next week sometime. He’s offered to make me cum over the phone, which is something I’ve never, ever tried before. Like he said, I love the sound of his voice (he whispers when we are talking at night) and his way with words, making it happen over the phone, for me anyway, should be easy. I, on the other hand, am terrible at that type of thing. I can’t write it, I just can’t verbalise it. I guess like a thousand other things that are happening right now, I’m going to learn.
…and finally, I’m starting to move on…
