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Dating them was fun, the balance between a mans personality and my own feminine one was electricit kept things interesting. But for whatever reason it never lasted very long. When I met Paul online I expected the same cycle to occur.
We met up at the corner dive bar where I prefer to meet all my first dates. I told him that was too bad, the idea of a guy being associated with something somewhat dangerous was exciting. So Paul was sitting on my bed while I made some drinks and thought about whether I wanted to have sex with him that night. The way he was controlling the situation turned me on and his hand caressing my face stirred up a familiar feeling in my abdomen.
I flicked my tongue over the head of his penis a few times before I began to take him in my mouth. He watched me cooly, taking a swig of his drink. Inside somewhere, a deep need to impress him rose. I went to town. I kissed and licked and deep throated. I massaged the sweet spot at the tippy top of his shaft on the underside. I took his balls in my mouth and swirled my tongue around. I gave him my A-game and looked up, searching for approval written on his face. I slid my hands down his forearms and the grasped his hands, depositing them on the back of my head.
I was on autopilot now. He had two fistfuls of my hair, one on each side of my head. He was gentle, but firm as he held me in place, thrusting his hips and pouring himself into my mouth. It was uncomfortable at first, I worried about gagging. But I heard him gasp as he slipped into my throat and I knew this was special for him — he was enjoying himself, losing control, losing himself to me.
I may have been the one kneeling on the floor, but he was at my mercy, he was in ecstasy, and he needed me to feel this way. He thrust faster into my mouth, careful to make his movement fluid. He held me there. I could feel him tensing up so I made an extra effort to hold this position, and I was rewarded with his loudest groan yet and a mouthful of salty cum.
He laid down looking for a sex slave my bed and I instantly curled up next to him. I felt happy and comfortable. With my head on his chest I reached up and began massaging his scalp, my sudden need to please this man had not been satiated. I gulped. This was definitely not what I was looking for.
It was sleazy. Did you hear yourself earlier? And look at you, look at how your body responded to being my sex slave. He quickly reached down and knocked my thighs apart.
Before I could register what he was doing his fingers were inside me and my back was arched. Holy shitI gasped as he masterfully, rhythmically rubbed my gspot with the tips of his fingers.
He got up and kneeled between my legs and pulled me up, so my butt was resting on his thighs, legs wrapped around his waist. This is better than dating — to give ourselves to each other completely. He grabbed his drink off the nightstand and poured a bit into my mouth before kissing me and sucking the taste of whiskey off my tongue.
He trailed the dewey glass down my neck to my collarbone and I shivered. He took the remaining ice cube and deposited it in his mouth before leaning down and kissing my nipple. It was the most divine sensation, heat and ice. I felt his hips move under mine and the his cock sliding around my wet pussy, but not entering. I always loved it when guys did this, the anticipation was unbearable, in an addictive way.
It made time stand still. I lifted my hips to meet his and he drove his cock deep inside me. That moment — the first time it goes in — is always the best.
It always reminds me why we do such crazy stuff for sex, it really is that good. He just needed me to be here, writhing with pleasure as he had his way with me. You may unsubscribe at any time.
Learn more about Thought Catalog and our writers on our about. By Adrienne West Updated January 12, Get the best of Thought Catalog in your inbox. About the author Best read in the bath. A girl with an imagination ought to do something with it. Find me on Twitter and Facebook. Follow Adrienne on or articles from Adrienne on Thought Catalog. More From Thought Catalog.
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