It had all the makings of a traditional bootie call: arrangements made via text messages, meeting way after normal ‘dating’ hours, tit ‘n cock pics exchanged to whet the appetite. So what happened? How did a planned savage dicking turn into a full blown cuddle fest? And why do I feel completely satisfied?
It’s been about six months since we’ve really spent time together. Until earlier this week, when we mated like animals with complete abandon, our grunts and moans a symphony of fornication. And decided round two was in order.
But tonight the closest we came to sex was me lazily (yes, lazily! my head was on a pillow!) lapping at his cock while he gently stroked my back. Neither one of us orgasmed. In fact most of the evening was spent with me curled up on his chest while he showed me videos he’d taken with his new GoPro. When he put the laptop away, there was no reaching for little golden wrappers, no fingers deep in my well, no mouth latched onto my nipples. He simply pulled me closer, kissed me on the forehead, and drew a pattern of circles on my shoulder with his fingers.
We stayed like that for an hour, dozing in each others arms. A glance at my phone’s clock pulled me from my reverie and I unentwined myself from him, slipping back into my clothes before whispering, “Sweet dreams,” and leaving. I could have stayed the night. But sleep comes to me better when I’m alone, in my own bed.
As I drove home in the dark, I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. If ever a bootie call took an unexpected twist, this was it. And the most interesting thing to me is my level of satisfaction. I’m in a state of calm contentment… without an orgasm.