As I mentioned, I was on a business trip.
It was in a city where I didn’t know anyone or likely would not be back to, any time soon. What better time to take advantage of this new and exciting adventure, right?
I ended up matching and conversing with two or three guys and decided I was ready to arrange a meet up.
(A word of advice – you should always vet a match in person before getting too far along in those pen pal convos. Pen pals are most often ‘catfishing’, married, or otherwise less likely to ever meet. Stay tuned for more about those later.)
So, I picked the guy with the crazy, insane, perfectly sculpted body. Now, look, it’s not because I’m shallow, but because he was (actually, seriously!) the most engaging and seemed to really want to meet me the most. ME, the average girl, with curves. The not-super-tight-body girl.
Deep breaths. Hell yeah, I was doing this! Guilt and shame could fuck off. Don’t get me started on the double standards society has placed on what women can and cannot do or consider proper.
We agreed to meet at a little cafe across from my hotel at 7 p.m. Shit! It was 5 p.m. and I had been working all day and was SO not planning to meet anyone this good looking on this type of trip.
I started tearing through my suitcase, trying to put together an outfit I thought looked hot, but not too hot. Put together, but not like I tried too hard – but shit, it was hard!
Luckily – I packed a razor! I shaved my legs (it was winter, who shaves regularly in the winter!?) jumped in the shower and got dressed. Phew! I managed to get ready with 30 minutes to spare. Now what??
I was definitely not going to be the first one there. No, I had to be sure he was there first so if I walked up, saw him and he turned out to be 5′ 5″ and had no teeth, I could run back to the safety of my hotel. So, like any other 30-something business traveler, I had bought some wine. This is what I needed, a little liquid courage!
7:06 p.m. – I walk over to the cafe (feeling way more confident thanks to the half bottle of Pinot Noir).
I see him sitting there, drinking a pint of beer. He looks anxious. And fucking hotter than he did in his pictures. Yes! This is going to be great!
I walk up to his table and he gets up, waaay up. He’s 6′ 3″, black, with gorgeous eyes. He was wearing great jeans, a white sweater which really accentuated those pecks I noticed in his pictures. (Mmmmm!) He finished the outfit off with a perfect pair of designer boots (which designer, you ask? It doesn’t matter).
We had a couple drinks, completed the necessary formalities and then the topic eased, ever so naturally, into sex.
By then, my liquid courage had multiplied and – to be very honest – I was getting really turned on by this dude. He was affectionate and had just the right amount of aggressiveness I liked. He wasn’t raunchy, or vulgar. He was forward, but complimentary. He knew just what to say.
And then, he went for it.
He asked if I wanted to bring him to my room. (eeeek!) This was going to happen. I was going to have random sex with a random guy whom it is highly likely I will never see again.
I’m a little embarrassed as we walk through the lobby, because the front desk staff already know me. I’d been there a few days already and so they know I’m here for work and alone. Now, here I am bringing this tall, dark and handsome into the hotel elevator, for what sure doesn’t look like a business meeting.
But I reminded myself that I’ll likely never see them again either and I frankly shouldn’t even care what they think, if they even care. I’m sure they have seen crazier things than a middle-aged woman, trying to get her groove on!
We walk into the elevator and I hit the button for my floor, I turn around to him and he wrapped his long, lean arms around my not-so-lean ass and pulls me into him. I can feel right away how excited he is to be, right there, with me. And I am feeling even better with this decision.
We make out, passionately for 3.5 seconds and the elevator stops and opens up to my floor.
I stumble off and shuffle around in my purse for the room key. It feels like an eternity while we walk in an almost awkward silence to the room, I open the door and he grabs my ass as we walk through the doorway.
Okay. Breath. He still wants me, I reassure myself. I don’t even get a chance to ask him if he wants something to drink, his hands are all over me and he’s pulling at my jeans.
His gives up trying to undo the button and just slides his hand down and starts exploring. He’s not the greatest kisser, but it’ll do.
We find our way to the bed and he’s finally got my jeans undone. I shimmy out of them; he takes off his shirt and I think I may have drooled a little. He has, by far, the sleekest body I’ve ever seen, in person that is.
We make out for a few more minutes and he’s stroking me all over, and I him. And let me tell you, his biceps are not the only bulging body part on him.
Generally, it is true what they say – you know – about black guys having big…feet. But I say generally, because there are a few that don’t quite fit that stereotype, but I’ll leave that for another story!
We are enjoying each other’s bodies, and all of a sudden he asks me to go down on him. Ugh. Instant mood killer for me.
Now ladies, (and gents) you may or may not agree with me here, but oral sex, to me, is an earned service. It is not something I’d jump at the chance to do when blatantly asked for.
If you have to ask for it, it usually means the other person doesn’t want to do it. It should happen naturally and equally reciprocated. If I do it for you, I sure as hell want the same service in return.
Dear all men who say you don’t or won’t give your girl oral pleasure: you should sure as fuck better not expect us to put your penis in our mouths. I’m all about equal opportunity.
Okay, where were we? He doesn’t seem to be phased by my subtle refusal and we continue our foreplay. It’s time to go all the way, he puts a condom on (safe sex is the only sex people!) and he starts slowly and deep. Yes, this is good.
He knows how to use his tool. Not too fast, not too slow, mixture of grinding, thrusting and teasing. I think I climaxed about three times. Not bad. He had pretty good stamina and holds off releasing until he knows I’m pleased with his work.
We rolled over and lay there for a few minutes, catching our breath. We exchange a few words about the weather the next day, work schedules and then he asks if I can see him again before I leave.
Wait, WHAT? I never thought about that question coming up let alone how I would answer.
Great, dude wants to see me again (I must be pretty good!) but shit, I didn’t want to see him again. It’s not because he wasn’t nice or good enough, I just wanted something casual, no strings, no follow-up, no communication when I got back to my real world.
I made up some long-winded excuse about my crazy schedule but promised I would let him know if I happened to get more free time. I don’t know if he believed me.
We got dressed, I walked him to the door, we kissed, and he left.
Did that just happen?
At this point, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I felt free and exciting again, not because of the random sex, but because I AM free, and I AM exciting!
I was more than ready to enjoy that feeling again.
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