In the beginning… the first lover

Writing this blog has made me think about how it all started. Granted, I’ve never been very good at monogamy, but I tried in my twenties to be ‘good’. I may have been relatively successful, but I was pretty damn miserable.

It seemed so innocent at the time – a flirtatious IM chat here, a prolonged telephone call there. The man who was to become my first lover and who changed the way I live my life was a colleague, working in the Paris office. We had never met in person, though had worked closely for over a year. He was American, married to a French woman. The only visual reference I had of him was his security badge photo on the company intranet. He looked… well, American. Blond hair, blue eyes, cute in a preppy sort of way. And he was funny, a wry sense of humour and sexy voice to match.
One summer’s afternoon I was alone in the office. We were chatting on IM about work, then the conversation changed and suddenly we were talking about our private lives, sexual preferences, desires, fantasies. Once that line has been crossed, you know it is the point of no return. At some stage the mental foreplay will get the better of you and you will want to make it a reality. And so we did. Six months of foreplay (so to speak) later, we finally met in person.

It was in London. He was there on business with his new company. I met him at a pub near Baker Street. He was buying a round of drinks for his new team when I arrived. Despite our ‘virtual’ sex life, we had no reason to hide from others and so he introduced me, quite truthfully as a former colleague whom he was finally getting to meet in the flesh (so to speak). Most of the evening was spent as a group and when his team had finally left I took him to Winter Garden bar in the Landmark hotel for a whiskey. It was quite late, the piano jazz tinkered in the background and we were finally alone. I chose the whiskeys.

Hotel bars are always a good place for lovers to meet. Not only can you blend into the anonymity of the other guests, the knowledge of the bedrooms above adds to the anticipation of what is to follow. The bedrooms beckon. We drank our whiskeys and talked, keeping eye contact, both of us remembering the numerous IM and telephone conversations of the past months. I already knew so much about him and felt as if I had already strayed. He reached over and took my whiskey glass, setting it on the coffee table in front of us. Then drew my head towards his and we kissed for the first time. The din of the hotel bar dissipated as I closed my eyes and let his tongue explore my lips and mouth. I felt we were alone in this huge atrium, darkness all around, silence. We sat there for a long time, touching and teasing one another until I felt dizzy with expectation.

We left the bar and emerged onto the busy road outside, suddenly the spell of the atrium was broken and we walked to find a taxi for him. I was already thinking about which tube to take home. As we walked, he asked me to come back with him to his hotel room. It is funny looking back on it now. Until that moment, I had genuinely not expected to sleep with him. I was still clutching onto my belief that I was a ‘good’ girl. Cybersex, fantasizing about him, kissing, stroking was all fine, I had not crossed that line. But the actual act of sleeping with him, fucking him, well that was different. Standing there on the corner of Marylebone Road and Lisson Grove with cars speeding by and the starry night above, I made a decision that has changed me in ways I could barely begin to imagine. I looked at him and he pleaded with me. The little battle in my head raged and suddenly I just said:

“Fuck it, let’s go.”

We hailed a passing cab and drove to his hotel in Knightsbridge. My nerves kicked in as we weaved our way south, down the Edgware Road and through Hyde Park. What would he make of me? Would I disappoint him? I tried to remember all the things he’d told me about his sexual preferences on our IM chats. When we finally arrived, we went straight up to his room. It was dark, the only light was the orange glow from the street lamps outside. He opened the window to let out some of the stifling hotel air. We stood there for a long time, just kissing and trying to find a hold on the other person, our imaginations finally merging with reality. He removed his glasses and I began to unbutton his shirt as he fumbled with my belt buckle. We stripped slowly, enjoying every layer. It was so quiet. Hotel rooms often are, the carpets and heavy wallpapers muffling any sounds. I could just hear the distant hum of an air vent outside.

He pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top. I could feel his cock erect brushing dangerously close to my sex. The rush of nervous excitement washed over me and I felt almost exhausted before we had even begun. I let him touch my body, my face, my neck, my arms, breasts, stomach and thighs. His body was lean and long. I liked it. We were about the same height and so our limbs intertwined in a natural way. Our six months of build up had left both of us ravenous and we devoured one another, tasting and soaking up the scents as we went. He was circumcised. It was the firs time I had seen a circumcised cock before and how beautiful it was. I took it in my mouth and explored its full length and girth with my tongue. When I could not wait anymore, he thrust it into me. I was so wet with desire for him. It felt like time had been suspended, I was so aware of every inch of him inside me, could feel the shaft and ridge of his penis moving in and out, its delicate softness, yet at the same time its hard-core. We fucked for what seemed like an eternity. The novelty of feeling this alien, yet familiar body inside mine gave me an excruciating pleasure. He came inside me and brought me to orgasm with his beautiful long fingers. We lay there in the stillness breathing deeply, the cool September air sending a chill over our sweaty bodies and finally fell asleep.

I remember waking up to the sound of the birds singing and the orange glow had been replaced by the grey blue light of a London dawn. He slept deeply. I got dressed and left. Exiting the hotel I had no idea where I actually was. So I walked and walked along empty streets. To this day, I am still not sure which hotel it was. The dawn brought with it a freshness I so desired. My head was clear, I smiled to myself as I sat in a cafe and sipped a strong black coffee. My life was about to change forever.

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1 Comment

Filed under General, lovers

One response to “In the beginning… the first lover

  1. Pingback: The roll call « Serialadulterer's Blog

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