For the second Tuesday in a row, Scarlet came to town to spend the night with me. No orgy on the books, though. Just the two of us.
She is having her period, and the antibiotics she has been prescribed for a minor problem have given her a yeast infection. So there will be no sex.
This is out third date, if the concept of dating has relevance within our relationship. She brings a bunch of movies I haven’t seen, and I plan to take her out for dinner. Dinner, videos and no sex—why, it’s like we are already married.
Well, not quite. In explaining why there would be “no sex,” Scarlet added “just blowjobs, if that’s okay.”
I can accept that.
I felt giddy as I headed to the train station to meet her. I thought about the things I liked about our relationship. The sex, obviously, and getting ever more connected as new lovers.
But also, I liked this. I liked picking her up at the station. I liked kissing her hello. I liked being aroused by the cute way the tips of her ears poke through her shoulder length hair. I liked holding her hand as we walked toward the subway. I liked the way she walked, the turn in her smile, the story she told of her commute.
I liked all that boyfriend/girlfriend stuff.
We both recognize that we have met because she wanted better sex than she was getting in her hometown. We know that our encounters will be far less frequent once her classes resume in a few weeks. We are both vociferously committed to being noncommittal about relationships.
Still, we acknowledge, this feels good. I don’t want a girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy caring for someone. I like caring about her, and feeling that she cares about me.
She is very tired, and it is early, so I suggest she take a nap. We have all night to be together. I undress and hold her as she falls asleep in my bed. The feel of her body, and her scent, have me very aroused. I hold her close and breath slowly as she drifts off.
I leave her in bed to slumber, and I get some work done. When she stirs after a hour or so, I hold her, easing her back to waking life. We kiss and our kissing gets heavy. She soon has me undressed and enjoying her active mouth on my cock.
Three hours of making out, including two explosive blowjobs, and I am aching to give her as much pleasure as she so readily gives me. It’s sweet that she is so obliging to get me off, but, as I tell her, I am most thrilled when making her cum.
We watch a movie, and hold each other throughout, kissing frequently. I would sometimes turn to see her looking at me rather than the movie. In my book, that’s an invitation to get kissed.
I kiss her, I bite her bared nipples hard, as she wants, and rub her pussy through her jeans.
She’s frustrated; she really wants to fuck, but can’t. She want to feel our flesh together, but she is not inclined to remove her jeans.
She trusts that we can be nude and I will respect that intercourse is not on the agenda. Her hesitancy comes from being embarrassed by her “issues,” as she describes her period and yeast infection.
I’ve told her that I am not uncomfortable with her menstruation, and she should really do whatever makes her most comfortable. I am very content to hold and kiss her, pants or no pants.
I leave the bedroom for a moment, and when I return, she has fully undressed.
As we kiss, I touch her legs, her thighs, her hips, her ass. I touch her clit. “Is this okay?” I ask. Oh yes, she says. I rub her gently, and her head goes back, her eyes closing, as she relaxes and focuses in ways that are already familiar to me.
My tongue longs for her, but I resist. I retrieve a vibrator and massage her clit. She squirms and smiles in response.
With another vibrator, I move around her labia and to her asshole. I massage with the vibrator and my thumb. She says, “I never thought I’d say this, but I like what you are doing to my butt.”
She has told me that her scant experience with anal sex wasn’t so pleasurable. It was with a boyfriend who had a huge dick and not much interest in foreplay. Anal sex was what he expected as his due when she was on her period.
I put her hand on the vibrator that tickled her clit. That was her responsibility now. I opened her legs, and massaged around her anus, probing gently with my thumb now and then.
She came. Afterwards, she talked about the new kinds of orgasms she was experiencing with me. This had felt different from the orgasms she had when I went down on her, which felt different from those she had when we fucked.
We kissed more, and I was awash in the pleasure of getting her off.
It’s cold out, and I have the makings for dinner. But I am resolved to take her out for Indian food, as she hasn’t had it before. I want to excite her about the city, so she will enjoy it more.
We go to my favorite place on Sixth Street, a block crowded with small Indian restaurants vying for patrons.
This place is packed with diners, cramped in a narrow room drenched in strands of lights. The lights hang from the ceiling in such density that you have to crouch when standing.
I order, and we talk as we eat. The waiter asks if it is her birthday, and I exclaim, “How did you know?”
“It’s not my birthday,” she insists. She doesn’t know: everyone has a birthday at this restaurant. The meal is frequently interrupted as the lights blink and the music shifts to a crazy Bollywood “happy birthday” song. Everyone claps along and the hapless birthday celebrant is made to dance with the waiters.
Not a place for a quiet date. Scarlet loves the spectacle.
Back at home, we put on pajamas and cuddle in bed for another movie. We snuggle and kiss. I am far more interested in her ass than in this flick.
We undress and I flip her. I open her cheeks and massage her anus again, slowly, intently. I lick her, probing with my tongue. I languish at my task, as she relaxes silently, then moans. I can do this all night, eating her at last.
With my free hand, I rub her clit. My thumb probes her ass and is soon in her. It fucks her as I massage her clit. I wonder if these two actions will confuse her body’s sensations, blurring her distinctions between pleasure and discomfort. Whatever else, it is getting her off.
I stop, and lay down with her, my face close to mine. “Tell me what you are feeling,” I ask. It’s intense, she tells me, breathing hard. It hurts a little, but it feels good.
“I bet you want to fuck me, huh? “ she asks. I can tell she wants me to try. I look at the clock. It’s after 2:30am. I know she is horny, as I am, but I also know she is sore.
“No, not tonight,” I say. “I want to do it, but it’s late and I want to give this some time. I don’t want to hurt you. Next time, I will.”
At the orgy the previous week, I declined her blowjob, as I needed a break. Tonight, I decline to fuck her ass. This is within the context of our having lots of great sex, but I suspect I am blowing her mind a bit. I wonder if she has ever had a lover who didn’t just go all out, full throttle, for his own orgasm at every opportunity?
I let her sleep in the next morning as I work. When she awakes, I cover her like a blanket. We kiss and embrace and hold each other . . . it feels very tender and warm, and we are very aroused.
“Hmm, what am I going to do with you?” she says. This cues me that she wants to get me off. I suggest another blowjob might be the ticket.
“We have twenty minutes,” she says, putting back her hair. Do your worst, I kid.
She knows my cock. She loves sucking it.
Eight minutes, start to finish. She thinks this may be her personal best.
I take her to the train. We feel sad parting, as we kiss.
I head off to do some work before my kids arrive. We’re also hosting Marcus and his two kids for a few days. It will be noisy around my place.
That night, as the kids play, I sign on and get an instant message from Scarlet. She says I can do whatever I want with her body. She trusts me, and I know what the hell I am doing.