Monday, 5 April 2010

Loud and rough

As I left Mr Smith that night, I felt tired.  Not just tired, exhausted, emotionally.

I grabbed a taxi across London to where one of my best friends was celebrating, I arrived to a ridiculously strong cocktail and a well-needed hug.  Within minutes she had disappeared to the dance floor.

The alcohol was slowly supped and I let it numb any negativity and within minutes I felt mellow although my friend had disappeared to the dance floor.

I bumped into an old colleague at the bar and the words 'I used to fancy you..' tumbled from my lips as if spoken by someone else.  I blushed (although this was probably more the rush from alcohol than anything...), the next hour was spent on foreplay, through dance, laughter, kissing and the occasional grope.

We went back to his, he looked older in the bright foyer lights, his face looked worn, in a good way.

In his bedroom, we spared no time, undressing immediately.  His penis was surprisingly large in my hands, as I gently stroked his shaft, I asked him how he wanted me to touch him, fast or slow, hard or soft.  Although it was evident that intercourse was going to be imminent.

I wanted to fuck, and be fucked.  I said as much, still trying to give the impression I was tipsy rather than drunk.  I asked if he had condoms, he did.

Using his headboard for balance, he penetrated me, doggy style.  I gasped as he entered me, the sex was energetic, loud and rough.  We managed to get into the perfect rhythm and every three or four thrusts he would clumsily thumb my clit.

As we collapsed on fresh linen, I kissed his nose, and fell asleep almost in tandem with the lights going out.

1 comment:

  1. You have a real flair for this sort of thing...

    The writing - not the f*cking...tho maybe both, I dunno.

    Keep up the good stuff!

    ReplyDelete