Last night I saw the economist. We met in an anonymous pub near his office where we chatted briefly over a couple of drinks. As his flatmate (yes, he has a flatmate at the age of 39!) was still away for xmas, we agreed to seize the opportunity and traveled by tube to his less-than-salubrious part of town. We walked arm in arm to his flat. I felt safe with him.
The light in his stairwell was broken and so I had to hold onto his shoulder as we climbed the to his apartment. He let us in and turned on the heating. The flat was minimalist, bare walls, leather sofas, huge TV. A true bachelor pad. He took me on the grand tour, ending it in his bedroom. I removed his clothes, one by one, keeping eye contact. When he went to lift my cashmere sweater, I pushed his cold hands back and threw him on the bed naked. Fully clothed, I sat astride him and examined his nakedness. We had said very little since entering the flat. The polite chit-chat of the pub now far away. We both knew why we had met that night. We both needed a release.
Enjoying the feeling of power, being the one on top of him and still wearing all my garments, I knelt lower and took him in my mouth. I could sense he just needed to let go and lose himself in sex. His relatively recent breakup has left him lost. I know how that feels and how sex with a relative stranger can help. Seeing his spartan flat and talking to him about his ex made me want to take him in my arms and stroke his hair, to love him unconditionally, even if only for that night. It is not that I feel sorry for him, that would be patronising. I just sense his deep melancholy and I wish I could help release him from that. He came in my mouth relatively quickly. I had warmed up by then and stripped, lying naked next to him, letting him hold my breasts and tug at my nipples. He was so gentle with me. I felt both close and very removed from his bed. He moved his head down, pushing my legs apart and began to lick and suck my pussy. It was a delicate sensation, timid even. Then he found his rhythm and I felt the tide rise within. When he could sense I was close to coming, he inserted two fingers into my cunt and touched that sensitive spot whilst continuing to lap at my clitoris. I came shudderingly, the heat rushed through me and he didn’t stop until the aftershocks had ceased. We lay naked under the covers breathing heavily. It had been a craving we had fixed.
We chatted naked in bed for a good half hour. His eyes occasionally showed his sadness and I began to realise that I was the first woman he had slept with in his bed since she had left him. I lay on my stomach, propping my head up on the pillow and looked at him intently. He ran his fingers up and down my spine. Silence. We were there together, quietly. His hand traced the hollow down towards my rear and slipped further down, finding my wetness. He pushed his fingers inside me and began to slip them in and out very gently whilst massaging my clit with his thumb. I let my head rest on the pillow and enjoyed the sensation of him touching me like this. Then he mounted me from behind and slipped his cock inside me, fucking me as I lay quite still. I could feel his balls beat against my clit each time he slid in and out. He was in control now and I let him be.
We ate a late dinner together and shared a bottle of wine. When it was time for me to go, he walked me to find a cab. He is sweet. He is a bit of a mystery. So gentle, calm, yet also unhinged in some ways. Perhaps I sense a similarity between us – a double life, a feeling of being lost, of wondering what the point is, of not really knowing what to do with this life that we have. I am not sure. But, seeing him in his home gave me a different perspective on him. I like him. I just wish I could have stayed and let him sleep in my arms.