I’m exhausted. The first week of 2011 has proved to be a packed schedule. I wonder if this is the sign of things to come. It started with a rendezvous with the economist, followed by drinks with the lecherous ex boss, then dinner and drinks with the tall guy, culminating in yesterday – breakfast with the tall guy and dinner with the economist. And yet, still no date arranged with my older lover. I am hoping we manage to meet next week. No one else brings me to climax quite like him. However, all in all, six orgasms in four days with two men ain’t half bad.
When he told me he was in town on business, I knew it was necessary to meet him again. The tall guy is someone I’ve known for many years. In that time, I’ve got married, he’s dated various women and has himself got married to someone who has distinct physical similarities to me. He says he is in love with me. I say I reciprocate. But I don’t. And I don’t want to hurt his feelings. So I found myself meeting him for dinner on Thursday. He wanted me to come back to his hotel. I couldn’t that evening, as my absence would have raised suspicions. And so I agreed to pay him a morning visit instead. I woke early, dressed in stockings and bra, stuffing my lacy knickers into my handbag. If I was going to get on a packed commuter train, I wanted to be standing between them, knowing that I was bare beneath my little black dress. As I clung to the rail and bumped against weary looking commuters, I closed my eyes and began to think of the physical sensations of being pleasured. Though I like the tall guy as a friend, he is not what I would call ‘my type’. He doesn’t turn me on physically in the way the economist does, for example. And so I need a little bit of mental preparation before getting into a bed with him, especially if no alcohol has been consumed.
I arrived at his hotel – the same hotel in which I bestowed him his wedding gift last year. Strangely, his room number was the same room number the economist had had before xmas (different hotel of course). I knocked on his door and entered. He was dressed only in a towel. He had cancelled his meetings for the morning, so we could be together. Now normally, a gesture like that would thrill me, but with him, I wonder whether he is a little ‘too in love’ with me. His kisses tend to smother and I find his advances, constant IMs and texts a little stalkerish at times. More on that later.
I removed my coat and he kissed me, unzipping my dress as he did so. He took off my clothes and boots, leaving only my stockings and bra. Pushing me to the bed, he took the silk scarf I had worn around my neck and tied it over my eyes. Gently he touched my arms, breasts, stomach and kissed his way down to my sex. Pushing my legs apart, he began to lick my clit, moving his tongue rapidly up and down and from side to side. The sensations of sex first thing in the morning are very different to night time fondling. I feel suddenly hot, feverish and a surreal state of mind grips me. My orgasm was swift as he pushed two fingers inside me and licked my cunt into submission. As I came, I was grateful for the blindfold. I did not have to see who was pleasuring me, and could imagine a stranger, or one of my many other lovers. But not him. I couldn’t bare the thought of him. He thrust himself inside me and within a few short seconds had come.
We lay in bed together for a long time, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep a little. He kept touching me as I feigned sleep and I was conscious of him looking at me throughout. For some reason I found this behaviour a little disturbing. Like his smothering kisses, I felt trapped. I was keen to get out of that hotel room and be alone again. When I stirred from my faked slumber, he moved his hand to my sex and began to masturbate me. I was still very sensitive from the climax earlier and so knew his fingers would tease another orgasm relatively quickly. I closed my eyes and concentrated on coming, so I could get out of there. His touch lacked the softness or delicacy of other lovers and I came, but was removed from the sensation mentally. He came in my hand at the same time, giving me an excuse to wash in the bathroom. I decided not to bother with a shower and instead washed at the basin, trying to remove his scent from my body as best I could. Then I dressed and made a swift exit, leaving him to shower and dress.
I walked in the rain, feeling slightly bewildered and sick. I ended up at the British Museum. There were so many people and my head was spinning. Looking at the ancient Greek and Roman statues, I decided that I could not sleep with the tall guy anymore. There was a sense of uneasiness at the pit of my stomach. He was definitely a sympathy shag, someone I had slept with to be polite and it had to end. And so I will need to fashion a good excuse for not visiting his hotel room next week when he is back in town.