Have you ever been irritated when sex wastes time coming through?
I’ve been celibate, willingly and not-so-willingly, for about a year now. My last memories of sex are of my ex repeatedly turning down my advances and of a blip that I’m going to pretend never happened.
I’ve been sweeping up the cobwebs between my thighs and wondering what a girl has to do to get some good sex. Which deity do I have to make sacrifices to? I was almost wondering if someone, somewhere had sworn for me.
But last week I was particularly irritated because I was finally going to have sex. I met this guy off Tinder and we seemed compatible, at least over Whatsapp. When we finally meet, he looks only slightly like his pictures. He’s this tall guy whose eyes crinkle when he smiles. I’ve seen his dick (only send nudes on encrypted messengers, abeg). I’m curious enough to try it even though I think it’s huge and I haven’t had sex with a man in like 3-4 years (I refuse to count the blip).
Sometimes, my life just refused to be simple. We live in different cities and I’ve jumped at the opportunity to be in his town. Except, I’m travelling with family and have to share a hotel room. When we meet at first, it’s kinda awkward but I’m not complaining. I’m not sure I’ll have sex with him initially till I get more comfortable in his presence.
We hug and I like the way he feels. I also like the way he smells. We make plans to meet the next day and in my mind this means he’ll pick me up from my hotel and take me to his place so we can spend the whole day fucking. The next day comes and I wake up turned on and all smiles. I eat bland hotel breakfast, then go back to my room to work…then keep on working.
When I don’t hear from him by 2pm, I conclude that I’ve been stood up. I call my friend and we go out to eat Jamaican food. The night before, chatting with him, he mentioned that he didn’t really get the vibe that I was attracted to him.
What? How much more obvious does a girl need to be? Do I need to spell this out; D-I-C-K M-E!?
Now more than 12 hours later, I’m asking myself if I’ve been acting too desperate. Dude knows my entire, I mean recent, sexual history and vice versa. He’s definitely having more sex than me. I’ve held myself from contacting him but as the hours go by, I send a snarky message.
Fast-forward a couple more hours and I’m seated at the hotel again. My anger is steadily rising because I just don’t get it. Again, what has a girl got to do to get good sex? It’s almost 8pm when he sends a message that he’s at the lobby. I’ve taken off my bra and have no interest in going to meet him downstairs. I keep him waiting for about 15 minutes before asking him to come up to the room.
Luckily, the person I’m sharing a room with is out for dinner but she could be back any time soon. I do not want to get caught having sex, it’s happened to me before but that’s a story for another day. When he gets to the 11th floor and to my room, I welcome him into the room without any pleasantries.
We sit beside each other on the leather seats, in front of us is a coffee table. He’s talking about going out, I have no desire to leave the hotel room. I’m sulking and in my head I’m asking myself my favourite question; why? Why was I so upset? Our conversation drags until it’s, “I think I should leave, but can I kiss you first?”
Next thing I know, he’s on his knees before me. His lips are so soft and I immediately want more. If I thought we were going to just kiss, I was wrong. He lifts me off the chair and lays me on the bed. I’m protesting because I’m not in this hotel room alone and he shuts me up. Soon, my boubou is around my neck and my panties are on the other side of the room. His face is buried between my thighs and he’s eating me out with this passion. All I remember was how good it felt to be in this position. He’s paying attention to me and my body appreciates.
When he rises up to unbuckle his belt, I rise up too. ‘I’ve got condoms’, which I’ve been carrying around in hope of a miracle (lol). I also notice that I’ve left a wet spot on the bed. I rush to the toilet to get a towel and as I’m laying it on the bed, he lifts me up and bends me over.
Then he’s in me, despite his length and girth, I’m not uncomfortable. He feels good and it only gets better. You know when you meet a guy who knows how to use his god-given gifts. Instead of ramming into you, he works his way in, stirring up your insides. I’m moaning as the pleasure clouds my mind and I can hear him saying all sorts of things.
“You feel so good.”
The next thing I’m aware of is him lifting me up again and we’re going at it while he’s standing. At that point I’m like, if they (they being the family I’m sharing this hotel room with) find me like this, I’m dead meat.