We did end up having a date. Well, I had two actually. One with A, and one with W. Two very different dates…
In the morning, as we got ready for work, we decided we’d still go out on our date, even if I had made us change plans slightly the night before. However, after a rough day, I wasn’t feeling up to it. As mentioned somewhere in this blog before, at times I suffer acutely from subdrop, and after an incredible scene Saturday night and some emotional turmoil during the weekend, I was wiped out emotionally. I just wanted to crawl into bed, feel his arms around me, and wish the world away for a few hours.
“Okay,” he said, “come home and we’ll figure something out.” He’s easy that way.
When I got home he asked if I wanted a nap. “I’m not sleepy,” I said.
“Neither am I,” he replied, pulling me to him and cupping his hands around my face. “Let’s put this another way. How about we get naked in bed together?”
Honestly, I wasn’t feeling up to that much either. I’d got mine the night before, and I was still raw emotionally…what I wanted was cotton around my emotions and a quiet place to lick my raw spots. But he put his arms around me, and ran his hands over my skin, and kissed and nibbled from my jaw to my shoulder and back up to my mouth. Um, okay.
I followed him into the bedroom, where he started undressing me, slowly, kissing bare skin where ever he removed clothing. His hands were warm, his mouth tender. When I was naked and made as if to lay back on the bed, though, he turned me around and pushed me down firmly, face first, across the edge of the bed. He caressed my ass, stroked my thighs, spread my ass cheeks and kissed my back from hips to shoulder before moving back down and burying his face between my legs. I gasped and giggled and wriggled against his warm, wet mouth as he lapped at my sensitive lips and mound. Then, standing once more, he spread my legs and, with a groan, pushed into me from behind. I groaned too, feeling him sliding so slowly between my wetness, parting my lips, stretching me, filling me. He stayed that way for a long moment, buried to the hilt inside me, covering me from behind with his big, heavy body. I felt all that I had wanted to feel in that moment–loved and protected, cocooned and safe inside his arms, with him settled deep inside of me. There was no part of me he didn’t know, couldn’t hold and protect. What was candlelight and romance compared to this? This was romance, pure and simple.
Then, so slowly it was almost agonizing, he pulled back, and stayed that way until I whimpered and pushed myself back at him. I could almost feel his grin as he obliged me and pushed back into me and then began thrusting deeply, rhythmically, into me. I felt the familiar build-up and began pushing back against him, taking him deeply inside each time, loving the familiar slap of his balls against my bare pussy, a sensation I loved even more since I had started getting waxed.
Abruptly, he stopped, and then pulled out. “I want your ass,” he said into my neck. I squirmed, twisted away…”No…” a whimper. I didn’t want pain. I wanted romance, and candlelight, and flowers. Sweet nothings whispered in my ear, not the growls and thrusts of ass fucking.
He held me down gently with one hand and reached up for the lube with the other. As he stroked the stuff on his cock, and then applied it liberally between my legs, stroking, teasing, sliding one finger, then two, first into my pussy and then into my ass, he kept that hand on my back, holding me down, and kept whispering into my ear how much he loved my ass, how much he wanted to feel it clench around him, how he loved the way I opened for him. He kept that hand there, not dominating, but just…gentling me. And when he felt my resistance begin to fade, when he felt me starting to yield, he gently nudged my ass with just the tip of his cock. So gently I almost didn’t notice as he pushed inside, just a bit at a time. Just the way I like it. Because yes, I love anal sex. I love it with one finger slipped just inside. I love it with just the tip and maybe a fourth of his cock inside. I love it when he holds himself there while I stroke myself…moving just a bit as I start to squirm against him, until I can’t stand it any longer and I push back against him in earnest, opening up to him, wanting all of him buried as deep in my asshole as he can go.
He loves that moment too, and he waited for it. And soon enough, it happened. Soon enough it was all me wanting him inside me, me pushing my ass back against his cock, pulling him into me, opening, opening myself to him…and yet still, it was all in slow motion. Slow, sensuous, tender even, without even the hint of discomfort that is almost always there as he pushes through the sphincter muscle, because he was so wet with lube and I was so relaxed, it felt like he just slipped inside, a natural fit, warm and firm and long inside me.
He stayed that way for a long time, still inside of me, before he began to move again, stroking himself in long, deliberate thrusts while I writhed and moaned beneath him.
Until, with sudden, unexpected violence, I climaxed, screaming, into the mattress.
He stopped moving and let me climax, laying over me as he laughed against my hair, laughed as he held me while I shuddered, and then, as the spasms subsided, he began thrusting again in earnest, deeply, pushing himself to the edge of his own orgasm and then beyond.
We lay there, him draped over me on the side of the bed, both of us spent, for some time. And then we crawled into the bed, under the covers, and he held me while I slept.
When we woke more than an hour later, he kissed the side of my face and said, “Ready to go out to dinner now?” And I was.
And you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to read about my other date, of a very different sort, with W.