I had had very nasty thoughts about this man – what he smelt like, what his lips would feel like on mine, what his dick would taste like and best of all, what he would feel like inside me.
I played along every time I met him. Say hello and smile, making sure I never kept physical contact with him for too long and kept my thoughts to myself for as long as I could.
Until that night.
I went out with some girls – looking to laugh, have one too many drinks, dance and maybe find myself in the drunken embrace of someone I’d share a few hours where we’d fuck and forget each other and I wouldn’t even bother learning their name after.
We got inside the club, roamed around looking, found no one who seemed worthy and then we walked back out for fresh air.
Oftentimes when I go to this club, I always meet them. There are two of them who I’ve always viewed as acquaintances, their one friend I had a thing with a whole back, and then David who always looked clean and centered while getting drunk.
He was the last one I saw when we walked out of the club. He was walking toward us smiling, with a drink in hand.
I thought to myself, “I have to try. At the very least he’d know my intention”.
I thought about it ever so slightly. Being rejected by him would’ve been embarrassing.
We went back inside and danced, drank and laughed. We stood closely together, talking and dancing.
I could feel the slight chemistry between us as we talked, my body responding to the heat coming off him, but I could not be sure. I wanted him so badly but I didn’t want to spook him.
What started off as two peers dancing, became two people, moving closer and closer until there was barely any space between us and his lips finally touched mine. He has finally kissed me, I thought to myself. Perhaps I had not imagined the chemistry between us.
We left the club and went to his house where the clothes came off promptly and I finally got to feel his hands on my body and his lips on mine. His tongue intertwined with mine as his hands explored my body.
He was so gentle, attentive to every movement my body made in response to his body on mine. He kissed me lightly, fleeting kisses that grew into deep passionate kisses as he slowly slid his dick inside me and started fucking me. No, he didn’t fuck me. He made love to me.
Weird. I’d always despised the idea of making love as I always associated that with people in love as opposed to people who have chemistry.
With each thrust he held me closer and kissed me from my lips to my neck to my breasts, where he’d linger before taking my nipples in my mouth and tortured me. I loved how he worshipped my breasts as though they were the best thing he had seen in a while.
I listened to his breath as it got heavier and I knew he was about to come. He held me tightly as he came and I watched him calm his breath.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms that night and I felt at peace, satisfied that I finally had him.
What should have been one night of drunken sex became a morning full of laughs and chemistry. It felt like a movie moment that I didn’t want to leave. It felt warm, comfortable and safe.
He didn’t judge me or reject me. He held me and kissed me.