I thought he’d be good.
I fantasised about fucking him for years.
I watched him go through two girlfriends and one wife over a decade.
He had all the traits that usually determine a “good fuck” as far as men go.
He was:
highly intelligent
really cocky
occasionally aloof towards me but super-kind and decent when all the bravado was stripped away.
They were all the ingredients that made men good in bed — in my book.
I spent years fucking myself with my toys and wishing it was his cock.
Whilst he spent his days on Facebook, posting banal photos of his ‘white picket fence’ life.
I never came on to him while he was attached but we moved in similar circles, so I got to hang out with him a lot.
And I sensed an edginess under the vanilla veneer he presented to the outside world — which was attractive to me.
About six or so months after his separation, I saw him at a gathering that was being held for my friend.
We were both trashed and made plans to catch up in the future (as you do).
That night came.
Correction:
HE CAME.
For starters, he musn’t have had sex for a very long time.
Either that or he was a premature ejaculator and failed to mention it to me BEFORE our get-together.
I went down on him within 15 mins of arriving at his house. And I hadn’t even done one full stroke with my mouth on his cock when he blew.
WTF? If he hadn’t had sex for ages, why didn’t he wank numerous times before I arrived at his house so he would last longer? It’s called respect.
And let me make one thing perfectly clear before I continue.
I am not a cunt. I do not go into sex with men thinking I am a fucking princess. Actually, I am a giver more than I am a taker.
I always try to make men feel great in bed. It’s what gets me off!
I understand these things happen and no man is perfect.
But then he proceeded to tell me, that after he cums, he is unable to get hard again for five or six hours.
FIVE OR SIX HOURS?????? He was in his early 30s, not his early 80s. And he was fit.
I felt angry. I decided to sleep over at his home and drink the bottle of wine I’d brought. I held on to hope.
Maybe he hadn’t fucked many women?
Maybe he wasn’t very sexually experienced?
Maybe his missus and fomer girlfriends didn’t expect much of their men in the bedroom? Maybe it was a one-off and this situation would improve?
I sat up in bed with him while he watched action movies. And I must have fell asleep.
He rolled on top of me during the early light and he was HARD. Rock hard.
Hallelujah, some action at long last.
He plunged his cock into me for one stroke and slowly pulled out to enter for a second but stopped….
Are you on the pill? He asked.
Yes, I said.
And no sooner had the words left his mouth when he came.
A one stroke blowie.
A one stroke fuck.
His sexuality was as boring as his squeaky-clean Facebook page.
The guy sucked.