He returns
As I sit here and type this my pussy is still aching from the hours of finger fucking I received last night from *. He got back from Toronto early because the director was happy with the film score, so he was able to stay at my place for the first time before going back to his wife.
He has amazing hands and long elegant fingers that belie the thick cock he has and is able to stimulate my g-spot and my clit in this beautifully orchestrated rhythmically mesmerizing way. When I am with him I am slick with juice as soon as he touches the small of my back or the nape of my neck and after his attentive ministrations we are lost in a pool of my own creation.
We used the last condom that J and I didn’t use on Saturday, then proceded to - for the first time- fuck without protection. He feels bad about our lack of caution, but I didn’t care. My legs were pulling him into me the whole time, my body screaming give it to me, plant it, keep it in.
He slaps my ass and thighs sometimes, but won’t really hurt me. He says he is shy and doesn’t want to, it’s not his thing, this he knows from his training in the brothels of Berlin in the early eighties. I’m thinking, you could hold me down a little harder, slam you cock into me with more force, bite my neck again, I don’t mind the marks, and I know you don’t either. The bed creaks and the roommate is asleep two doors away but I can bite my arm or suck your fingers and will keep quiet enough so that you aren’t so self conscious about it all.
He tells me before I go to class this morning that he gives his wife an alternate phone number when he travels just in case there is an emergency with the kids, or if his cell phone service doesn’t work. He tells me that this time he gave his wife my cell phone number. Just in case. She’s a reasonable person, he says. Very balanced, very aware. My god. The rational side of me says there really is no other solution but that, the emotional side of me says, beware of the impending ambush.
