For reasons I explained in my post on why it’s been a challenge for me to write about certain pieces of my relationship with Nick, I have been remiss in writing Part 2 (the steamy part) of the day we met.
But, I’ve pushed past this challenge at last, and here it is: (For Part 1, click here.)
Ooh. That’s the first thing I thought when Nick kissed me.
Relief. That was the second thing. Kisses are important—the key that opens the door to my passion. I’ve been with a few men who I could hardly stand to kiss, much less open my door to.
But oh, did Nick have the right key. Firm lips, soft tongue. Probing and just wet enough. Yes. Probing. Wet. Firm.
Oh . . . back to my next thought: Wow! I want him.
Next thing I knew, we were in the middle of his living room. How we got inside the house, I’m not really sure, but it doesn’t matter.
My hands meandered over his body. Oh, yes. His body. Firm, muscular—that of an athlete. I had to get closer, touch skin to skin. As if they had minds of their own, my hands found a way under his short sleeve to touch his back, his shoulders and then, his chest. Oh, his chest. Firm, muscular, with hair just the way I like it. Coarse, yet soft. And his nipples. Hard nipples that I wanted to take between my fingers and pinch. All this within 5 minutes of our first meeting.
I . . . was . . . in . . . trouble.
In a breath between kisses, he whispered, “Do you want to see my studio?”
We are both artists, so I said, “Yes.” Though, admittedly, it was not really his studio I was interested in seeing. (Did I say that?)
“Oh, I like that one,” I said, pointing to a painting titled “Rain.” And, I really did like it, but my mind was already exploring the next room I hoped we’d visit—his bedroom. Actually, my mind was already exploring his body, thrown onto the bed in the middle of his bedroom.
“Now, my bedroom?” he asked.
I smiled, a little shy, and said, “Okay.” (What an actress I can be. Shy? On the inside, I was filled with desire so hot and swift it knocked my “good girl” down and ran over her like a freight train.)
And that was all it took. A few steps into his bedroom and we fell onto the bed. Touching. Kissing. Sighing. Searching.
My hand went straight for his cock. Yes, it did. I wanted to feel his hardness.
And there it was! All my questions answered – to my satisfaction, I might add. Hard. Hot. For some reason, the name “Mr. Big” popped into my mind.
Now, I really couldn’t wait to pull down that zipper—get even closer. All the while, he kissed my lips, my neck. Felt my breasts. Cupped me with his large, warm hands, until at last, any thoughts of “But we only just met,” flew out of my mind like a flock of birds headed south for the warmth of summer after waiting too long in the cold of winter.
I can’t even tell you how we got naked, but we did. I’m not sure if he undressed me, or if I tore off my clothes in anticipation of feeling his body next to mine. But like magic, there we were, lying skin-to-skin. The soft fur of his chest pressing again my hard-nipple breasts. Oh, the breathless feeling – a feeling that truly, I wondered if I’d ever experience again after spending years in a sexless marriage.
How lucky I felt to have found Nick.
Then, his hot cock pressed against the throb of my clit and all I could think of was what it would feel like to have him inside me. I pressed my hips against his, longing. Waiting. Insisting. Until, at last he hovered over the door to my passion—a door I’d held open for him, even before I knew him.
He came inside. And stayed for a very long, enticing visit.
Since then, I’ve invited him back over and over again. I love this place, our visiting place, where we share games, share conversations, share ourselves, like I’ve never shared before.
How lucky I am to have found Nick.