I kiss you as soon as you walk in the door. Not just a peck or something chaste but pushing you bodily against the wall and forcing my tongue down your throat. I have to stand on my tip toes to do it, but don't care. You don't even pretend to be surprised, wrapping your arms around me and wrestling your tongue with mine.
I like the feel of your breasts against my chest but don't grope them, not yet. I've always loved the curve of your waist and slide both hands down it to your hips and then to your ass. I press it against me, move my kiss to behind your ear before breaking it. I don't know which role you'll be playing but to my relief, you're just you.
I invited you over for dinner, but we both know it is for sex. Still, I went through the motions and the part of me that isn't scared to death is hungry. Dinner is nice enough but I don't really taste it. We retire to the couch, both knowing what will happen next, but I still can't bring myself to act first. Our hands stroke legs and arms before you ask me what I'm waiting for.
I make some stupid, laughing reply before cupping my hand around your neck and pull you to me. We make out, the evening sun shining onto our heads. It's in my eyes but I was blinded by you long, long ago. I know what I want but I can't say it and while you are many things, telepathic is not one of them. I content myself with sliding my hands under your sweater, happy just to feel your soft skin against my hands.
I love the feel of a woman's back beneath her shirt, and yours especially. Your hand has moved down to my crotch and is squeezing but I don't really care about that right now. I want to feel you. Your breasts are the perfect size and part of me reflects that I am glad they are not larger. Neither of us are in our twenties anymore and I don't want to find out if my lust for you would survive gravity and sag.
You moan into my mouth as I slide the cups of your bra up and cup you in my hands. Your nipples are small and hard beneath my hands as I rub them against the bridge of my palm. I want to squeeze them, knowing that you like that sort of thing, but nervousness and old memories prevent me.
I should probably say something right now, but everything sounds stupid. Instead, I just pull your sweater over your head, hoping you get the idea. You do, and I get to see what colour bra you are wearing: blue, just like you had teased me about in a text. I want to see you in it, but don't feel like pulling it back down. Instead I fumble my way through unclipping and enjoy the sight of you topless before me.
You slide your hands under my shirt and pull me in for another kiss. I return it, tracing the curl of your ear with my tongue before shuffling back and leaning down to take your left nipple in my mouth. You sigh and lean back, able to surrender to enjoyment in a way that I cannot. I like the feel of your hands on my head and shoulders as I tongue and squeeze you. I still don't know how to ask you what I want. Part of me thinks that you don't want to be asked, you want to be told but I absolutely cannot do that.
Instead I kiss you again and we both pull my shirt over my head. Your naked breasts, wet from my tongue, press against me.
"My manhood demands a rematch," I finally manage to say and you look at me with a quizzical smile. "Last time, you and I..." That was stupid, and there is no way I can continue my story without sounding more stupid. "I want to come in your mouth," I finally manage to utter and this time you get it.
"I can do that," you say in that low, sexy whisper and get off the couch to kneel before me. This is what I wanted, what I have fantasized about for so long. You undo my zipper and pull my underwear down from around my erection. I don't have sexy underwear, don't even know what it would look like, but you don't seem to care. I want to see your eyes meet mine as you take me in your mouth but you don't.
Your wet mouth feels good around me. I want to surrender myself to the sensation, like you did earlier, but it's hard. I remember how our last encounter ended and I hope that this time is different. I caress your face and shoulders, watching your head bob up and down like a derrick, see your eyes open but not focussed.
I feel myself coming, part of me guilty that it took so short a time, but the rest not caring as you swirl your tongue around my head. I feel my shaft pulse against your finger as, for the first time in my life, I pump my sperm into someone's mouth. You suck it down easily, milking me and getting the last few drops out and I wonder how it tastes to you; how it compares to all of the dicks that have been there before.
I really don't care about that and I don't know why it came to mind. I know that you're very experienced. It's part of what I find so sexy about you.
You look up at me, smiling, and I smile back, happy that I was able to perform this most basic of masculine tasks. I pull you back up and hesitate only briefly before I kiss you. I don't taste that great, but it's ok and I want to give my thanks for easing me through this much delayed rite of manhood.
"Let's go upstairs," I say as I pull you to your feet. You bring your shirt and bra with you and I enjoy watching you walk topless to the bedroom. I have to hold my pants up with one hand. The bed is bare except for a couple of pillows. We both knew where this was going to end up and I got ready for it. It's dim, the blinds drawn, and part of me wishes that I'd lit candles. I like the dim light; it reminds me of last time.
You don't even turn around, just crawl onto the bed and begin undoing your pants. I stop you and take over, kneeling over you as you lay beneath me. There's no easy way to take off jeans but between the two of us we manage. Your panties match the bra you were wearing oh so long ago. I love the feel of the skin under a woman's panties more than under her shirt and cannot help but slip my fingers beneath blue lace as I crawl up your body.
I feel your pubic hair, damp from your excitement and then that perfect, perfect feeling of an aroused woman's wet and sticky centre. It's purely for my pleasure as I rub my fingers up and down your labial lips, marvelling once more at their exquisite warmth and softness. We lay together and kiss, my hand still busy, and you start pushing my pants down my hips.
.... There is more of this story ...