After Greg posted his story about our time together, I read it over and over (Do not Disturb and Guilty Goodbye). Not just for the sensuality of the experiences, although they were fun; but because, as the months pass, my memories start to fade. And my encounter with him was a bit of a turning point for me. I want to remember. Not just the physical, but the emotional. So here is my side of the story. It’s different from his, less sexually charged; and some of what I write will be contradictory to what he posted. I already told him that his memories make the better story . Mine is just girly fluff…
SWEET GUNNAR: She has approved me to have this on my blog, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
The morning after our first meet, Greg and I texted back and forth while I got ready for the day (15 minutes late, I might add. For some reason, I was out too late the night before. Lol). I’d finished putting on my mask (makeup – let’s face it, it’s a mask) and was brushing my hair when he texted that he’d booked another night at the hotel with the possibility of 2 nights. Apparently, he wasn’t going to travel to his next job site but would instead work remotely. He was planning on sightseeing on Friday, so he would leave for the Windy City straight from the hotel, and then off to the airport and his home.
Sadly, I shook my head at my phone. I knew why he was telling me this. And I did want to see him again. I was already regretting the missed opportunity the night before. I’d loved talking with him, getting to know him; but I also wished we’d had time to play on the king-sized bed ;-). But I deflected my feelings with a joke.
I texted him back, “Just can’t get enough of the city, huh?”
To which he responded, “Maybe I have other reasons. ;-)”
But as much as I wished I could drop everything and go back there, I knew I wouldn’t. He and I both had work all day. I had practice with my dance troupe that night. The next day I had work for a couple of hours, my kids for the afternoon, a personal business matter to handle, making dinner, and then teaching dance class. I’ve never been the type of person who would even take a personal day, unless I really was sick. With a sigh, I texted him my whole schedule for the next 2 days, adding “So unless you suddenly have tomorrow morning off work, there’s just no time. L”
I continued my morning routine. I walked the dust mop, er, the dog. I blasted my music to help me wake up (kids had to get up anyway), started my coffee (good morning, how are you, now give me my coffee or get out of my way), fed the cat.
A few minutes later, another text from Greg popped up. “I might be able to swing something tomorrow morning maybe… That is if u want to see me again”
My jaw dropped. Was he seriously going to move things around just to spend a few short hours with me? Really? He went on to explain his plan and to ask me again if I was interested. I was flattered, excited, and wary. “You would really do that for a one time only?” I asked.
He answered, “I would do that. But not as a one-time thing I hope. I like the city J hope to come back. But it really is up to u. Think about it and let me know.”
I didn’t even have to think ten seconds about it. “Yes.”
By the time I left for my troupe practice, we were firm for the next morning. I went to practice with a smile.
The smile never made it home.
When Greg texted me asking how my evening had gone he got to read me bitch for the next fifteen minutes about the bitch session I had walked into at practice. I won’t bore anyone with the details of THAT encounter. Suffice it to say that I’d felt attacked, held my tongue, refused to apologize for the way I was, but promised to try to be less, well – ME – within the troupe. And Greg got to “hear” all about it. He took it like a trooper. In fact, he kept agreeing with my viewpoint, which made me laugh.
When I got down off my soap box, he picked a new subject, asking about my adoption. And he told me about his friend who is a step father. I gave him some of my history and my viewpoint on adoptive and step-parents vs. birth parents. We continued to chat and laugh into the night until I told him I had to get to sleep, because I had a date the next morning. 😉
Thursday arrived, and with it a text that simply said, “Morning. Room 224”
I drove the 25 minutes to his hotel, feeling excited, happy, and nervous all at once. My time with Terence had improved my lovemaking skills, but I knew Greg was way more experienced than I was. I liked that, actually, but it also made me worry that I wouldn’t be up to par. I knocked lightly on the door, and he opened it. He was wearing a comfortable-looking top and pajama pants covered in Spiderman, one of my favorite comic book superheroes as a child. So he made me smile again – without even meaning to. “Nice PJ’s.” was all I said.
As I sat down at the chair in front of his work table to remove my boots and socks, he leaned against the bed and asked me how I was doing after the previous night. This surprised me. Most men would run for the hills rather than deal with female emotional drama. I answered him honestly that it still bothered me, but that I had to either swim or get out of the pool. By the time we exhausted the subject, I was no longer nervous. He held out his hand to me. I stood and took it, letting him pull me into his arms.
I don’t know if it was the time we’d taken to get to know one another first, the urgency of our rendezvous, his kindness, or the fact that I hadn’t had any in months… Maybe it was all of the above. But the first kiss was electric. It wasn’t long before we were lying naked on across the bed, just exploring each other’s mouths and bodies.
Here I’ll say that the reason I prefer men who have had a fuller dance card than I, is that, in my limited experience, they have tended to be more considerate lovers.
Greg was very considerate.
He posted much of what happened in his own story, so I’ll try not to repeat too much.
Now for the history lesson, just to give a better understanding of why this time was so special for me… For 1, almost 2 years before my marriage ended, I only peaked by using, um, my own devices. And in all the time after the divorce, I’d had only 1 mind-blowing, can’t-control-my-limbs-or-my-volume orgasm via intercourse. The rest were what I call little orgasms – super close to the top, and extremely enjoyable, but just not quite over the top of the mountain and rolling down the other side. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoyed every second of most sexual encounters. But I didn’t have them expecting to “scale the mountain.”
Just as Greg has said many times that pleasing the woman is paramount, I’ve tried to give back a little eye for an eye ;-).
I love hearing a man’s sharp intake of breath when I hit something sensitive, or a groan or sigh when I massage just the right spot.
After he gave me a solid orgasm by playing with me orally and with his fingers, I honestly thought that I was done for this round. So when Greg went for his stash of condoms, I told him to wait. I wanted to give him back a little of what he’d just given me. When he returned from the bathroom with his ribbon of wrappers (Sorry, Pal, but it was a ribbon! When I saw them, I thought, “He’s not using all of those, or I won’t be walking upright!”) I asked him to make himself comfortable. Then I got between his thighs and started caressing the skin, my fingers playing up and down his legs.
Before I could go down on him, my own personal scare popped into my head. Let’s just say that I found out the hard way that my ex really did cheat on me before the divorce. When I made sure I was clean and safe, I also studied up on STD’s, and I learned what could be transmitted orally. That made me much more cautious for both my partner and myself. I swore to continue to get tested every year that I was sexually active. I also promised myself not to take risks. Better to ask a question and know than to risk myself or future partners. Looking down at this man’s cock, wanting so badly to see if I could make him cum in my mouth, I had to know if he was certain that he was safe. So I asked as delicately as I could if he’d had himself tested, then looked up into his eyes. “Good question,” he said.
He glanced away as he thought, and I already knew the answer. No fluids in my mouth then. I waited, still wanting to hear what he would say. Had he told me then that it had been recent, I wouldn’t have believed him. Instead he said that his wife had been tested a few years earlier. I persisted, “And what about you?”
I was glad when he told me honestly that it had been a while. But I still had a few tricks up my sleeve, and I pulled them out.
Being able to take a man’s balls into my mouth one at a time and roll them with my tongue, sucking on them, lightly grazing them with my teeth is something I like to do. That plus a hand job at the same time usually gets me the sounds I need to know that I’m doing things right.
Doing this to Greg, I could feel his already hard cock coming to a very firm stand at ATTENTION! With a final kiss to his sac, I got ready to dress the shaft. Giving the condom a tug as I wrapped his tip, I think I surprised him. His quick intake of breath put the devil in me, and I repeated the action a couple more times, just to hear his enjoyment. Then I got on.
I loved the feeling of first penetration. It sent a wave of heat over me, close to a little orgasm. I started to ride him – slowly at first, then harder and faster. I savored the feeling of him sliding in and out of me. He started meeting me half way. I had enough control over my vaginal muscles to grip him as he slid out and open up a little as he plunged in. Then he caught his own rhythm and started to take over the work. I tried to hold still as he started pumping, still trying to grip at him as he pulled out. Then he wanted me to lie back. Guess it was his turn.
As he rode me, I realized he was touching something inside of me that felt amazing. My eyes flew open to stare at him in shock. He kept hitting that spot with hard, firm thrusts. I felt the coil tightening. He noticed it too, because he asked me, “You like that, huh?” As my body reacted, I could only nod, mouth open, panting, eyes drifting, back arching. It wasn’t long before he had me cursing and praying simultaneously. “Oh God!” came out a lot. Then the orgasm hit, a rolling wave of unbelievable sweetness that spread all through me. “Fuck yes!” And he didn’t stop. He kept hitting that spot over and over, and I scaled that peak a second time. As I rolled down that other side, I could tell he was getting closer to the top himself. I wanted to see and hear him explode. I begged him, “Cum for me now” as I ran my nails down his back.
So considerate of him to comply.
The morning was glorious, as he did something no one had ever done for me before. He actually gave me two more peaks before we parted. Staying as late as I dared, I then rushed off to work. As we texted back and forth in the afternoon, I tried to make sure he knew just how much I appreciated what he’d done for me. We joked back and forth about work, kids, my cooking, and sex drives of women in their late 30’s, early 40’s. We both kept saying how we wished we could see each other again before he left. But with his work, my work, my kids, my dance, I didn’t see how it would be possible. Then he sent me a very frank honest invitation to come back to the hotel after my dance class. “If you find time tonight to end up at the hotel, I wouldn’t argue.”
I shook my head at my phone, staring at it in shock. Did he have any idea what I’d look like after an hour of running myself and my students through the ringer? I’d be sweaty, probably stinky, disheveled, and he wanted to see me? But he got the wheels in my head turning. I started thinking of timeframes. It would be possible, provided he didn’t mind a tired, smelly mess landing at his front door. I told him to let me see how tired I’d be after class.
Well, after class, I wasn’t too tired, but… I texted him. “Okay. I smell like dried sweat. Mask is gone. Hair’s, well… Hair. Still want me to come down?”
His answer was immediate. “Yep.”
That night was another fantastic time, involving, of all things, ICE! That was new for me. And I didn’t squeak! J. I won’t go through the details again, as Greg’s story covers this well; but I do remember an extra ice cube being used when I was standing and bent over the bed being fucked from behind. I remember it tracing up and down my spine and then being dropped down my ass, landing where it could cool both of us at once.
I also remember, on the bed, as he was targeting my g-spot again, I felt inhibited by the noises of the people around us. After all, it was nighttime, and I knew the hotel was full now. I could just picture hotel security banging on the door to check a reported disturbance. Or I envisioned Greg receiving a phone call from the front desk due to complaints from the people around us. Greg noticed that I was trying to be as quiet as I could, and, apparently, he took issue with it ;-).
“Yell if you need to.” He told me.
Between my panting breaths, I managed to answer, “I don’t want to disturb your neighbors.”
“FUCK the neighbors!” he ordered. “If you want to scream, you scream! Got it?”
Well, far be it for me to disagree with that! His answer surprised and helped me. I honestly don’t think I could have peaked again without his encouragement to just let myself go.
When we chatted again between rounds, resting in each other’s arms, we talked about his lifestyle, my history, his quad. We tried to come up with some plans to meet again within the year. Somewhere in our conversation, we got to my own feelings about my body.
In my view, it’s short, with small breasts, huge obnoxious nipples, and a permanent baby pouch – four things that no amount of exercise will ever change.
Again, Greg took issue with that. J He suddenly stood up and held his hand out to me.
“Come on,” he said.
Suspiciously, I placed my hand in his. “What are you up to?” I asked, smiling but with an eyebrow raised.
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
I did. I let him pull me up and lead me into the bathroom. He positioned me in front of the mirror and wrapped an arm around my middle. For a brief moment, I think I saw what he saw – a desireable woman being held by a desireable man. Standing there naked with him, his head resting against mine, I felt beautiful. I felt sexy.
Then I saw the phone with its camera in his other hand.
I didn’t feel that sexy!
“Uh… Uh-uh!” I murmured, suddenly tense, ready to run to the other room.
Thankfully, he immediately put the phone down and wrapped his other arm around me, kissing my hair and resting his chin on my shoulder. I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into him, still smiling. But I knew it was time for me to be getting home and told him so. He knew it, too.
“Damned adult responsibilities!” I said.
He agreed. “Yeah.” Then he chuckled. “Damned kids!” he said with a laugh.
That earned him a playful swat on the shoulder. “C’mon, you know that kids are the best part of being a grown-up.” I said as I left the bathroom to get dressed.
I didn’t even realize he’d followed me out so closely, until I heard a bit of a growl from right behind me, “No, this is the best part of being a grown up!”
I gasped as he gave a light shove between my shoulder blades and I landed on the bed, face forward. I was lying on the edge of it pinned by Greg as he covered me, holding me down with his body weight as he traced the shell of my ear with his tongue. Being trapped like that, almost spread-eagled, with his cock at my ass and his legs straddling me, I couldn’t help but moan as he kissed and licked. His presence was so powerful in that moment that I think he could have done just about anything to me, and I wouldn’t have protested or complained. (well, okay, knives would have had to stay away, but just about anything else ;-)…)
We had one final coupling for the night, which we both thoroughly enjoyed; and I was off again toward home. The next morning, I told him I had to change my dating profile. I could no longer say I wouldn’t date someone in an open relationship.
Off to work again, but – surprise! I got off work 2 hours early, because I’d have to go back in around midnight. I figured Greg would be sightseeing by now, so I texted him, asking how he liked the Windy City.
He hadn’t gone. He’d checked out of his hotel, done some shopping, and taken a nap in his car in front of a Tilted Kilt.
I laughed and shook my head at my phone.
When he told me the time of his flight, I couldn’t bear picturing him waiting an extra hour at the airport, or napping again in his car. I figured, he was only 25 minutes away from me. He could nap on my couch or one of the beds a lot more comfortably. And, maybe, after his catnap, he’d have energy for other things. ;-). I invited him to crash at my apartment.
Then he told me which Tilted Kilt he was sleeping in front of. It was about 45 minutes away. Game changer. Not much point in driving 45 minutes here, and 51 minutes to the airport for a 20-minute nap. Still, I told him he was still welcome, if he wanted. I guess I’d started the wheels turning in his head, because he started calculating times and distances as well. He was tempted. He just didn’t think he would nap. Ah! Probably true. Well, he did have an entire flight to nap with, I teased. Then he told me his cock was now hard. I told him “Well! Can’t have THAT now, can we?” He said no, it would look rather silly walking through the airport. Something about alarming Customs, too. We joked a bit more, and he made his decision. He was coming over. I smiled at my phone, then looked up at my apartment. Shit! I had to clean up this place!
I was just finishing the bathroom when Greg texted that he was in the parking lot. Hoping that the dust mop, I mean dog, would react better to meeting him outside than inside, I grabbed the pooch’s leash and took him out for the meet and greet. I thought that perhaps he would settle down by the time we got back into the apartment.
Foolish Mommy! No cookie! My lap-sized, furry guard-dog ended up in his cage in my daughter’s room with the door shut, while we tried to ignore him.
At least, Greg got to see the place I call home. And, unlike just about everyone else who’s seen it, he didn’t shake his head at me for giving both bedrooms to my children. J Or at least, if he did, then he didn’t tell me about it. Lol. Instead we immediately took advantage of the fact that my bed was at the far end of the living room.
The word “quickie” took on a whole new meaning, as we tried to squeeze as much enjoyment out of about twenty minutes as we could. No time to get overly creative, but it was still a bell-ringer for both of us. I can’t even remember where the condom appeared from, though I have a feeling it was in his pocket. I usually have to hunt for my stash, and I don’t remember rooting around under the bathroom sink while swearing. The cursing and swearing that I remember was much more enjoyable. 😉
Back in his arms, my legs draped over one of his, I told Greg how much I was going to miss him. We promised to keep in touch. And I told him again how much I hoped to meet his wife. I wanted to take her shopping at Woodfield Mall. I also told him how I was starting to wonder if, perhaps, all the nice guys are poly. He laughed a little at that, reminding me that there were bad apples on every tree.
But the idea stuck with me. Perhaps men who wanted a one-on-one relationship didn’t have the generosity of spirit that I was looking for. Or perhaps what I was looking for couldn’t exist in one person. It gave me a lot to ponder.
After we said our goodbyes – again – Greg made a quick exit, and I prepared for another weekend of work, pets, housecleaning… We continued texting back and forth while he waited for his plane.
And the day after,
and the day after…
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