I was face down and completely naked on the giant king sized bed covered in 700 thread count sheets, exhausted.
My desire to cover as much of the city as possible had resulted in two things: traversing more territory than even unreasonable people would attempt, and wearing myself completely out. Upon reaching my “done” moment, we were 29 blocks from the hotel, but with a quick chin lift I had hailed a taxi and we were charioted back to our upper east side haven.
“I need a nap,” I said to him, stripping quickly, as I’ve always found clothed naps to be counter productive.
“I need a shower,” he said, mimicking my actions, walking into the en suite and turning the on the hot water.
Sometime later I felt the bed move as he joined me, gently kissing my shoulder and running a warm hand down the length of my back. I moaned in contentment.
“I love,” he whispered, “how when you are awake, you are completely and fully awake, overflowing with energy. And then you do a complete reversal and are utterly wiped out. You have no middle ground.”
“Mmmmhmmmm,” I acquiesced, unwilling to find the energy required to actually form words.
He continued his exploration of my back, stroking me lightly with one hand, to the point of almost tickling and then firmly, causing my body to sigh, unwind and unbend. I began losing track of time, and just began feeling… and then I was aware of his weight settling on my thighs, both hands fully invested in the relaxation of me.
His hands moved lower, taking the soft, ivory mounds of my ass and kneading them, like twin piles of artisan bread dough. His fingers, and the palms of his hands, caressed the flesh of my ass with a steady rhythm. Both massaging and exploring, while the touch was gradually firmer and bolder. Time was fully suspended. I began to float, almost outside myself. Slowly, I became aware of light, tender kisses brushing over the small of my back, across hard ridges of my pelvis, and gradually lower. The soft scratch of his beard nuzzled my skin as his mouth became the explorer.
But this is where things become a hazy blur. I remember giving into the sensations. I remember lifting my ass to him. I remember reveling in the feel of him spreading me. And I remember distinctly saying, “Please get the lube darling.” And then, I stepped away from myself. No longer was I a thinking being. What I did… it comes in flashes. I’ll let him fill in…
We had discussed this. I knew what she wanted; how talking about it had made her voice husky, anticipating, eager. That sensation of feeling my cock slide between her round cheeks, thrusting between them; fucking the crack of her ass—and being careful to stay away from that… place.
In the past, she had made it firmly clear on her blog that she had no interest in having her ass deflowered.
She… wanted the lube.
She wanted the lube.
Kneeling there, I saw her slick hand reach back and wet between the cheeks of her ass. The way she was laying, the position, didn’t hint at how this was different – it was plaintive and obvious.
Shifting, I readied the shaft of my cock in my hand, slowly positioning the head – nestled, then burrowing deeper. Wetly slipping towards that experience I never expected…
“Oh… ouch,” I gasped. There was a sharp pain as he prodded my darkest place. But I had offered it. I flinched away and the pressure immediately eased. I took a deep breath, almost fully conscious. And offered again. But the pain was sharper. And the sharp intake of air that hissed between my teeth gave me away. He pulled away completely.
“You’re not ready, love,” he said gently, rolling me over.
I opened my arms and he fell between them, mouth latching to my breast, and then… inside me.
Sometime later my brain began to function again.
“I should check the time for that dinner reservation,” I said as I sat up and reached for my phone, “I think I told him it’s at 7:30, but I should… Oh shit! It’s for 7:00!”
I flew from the bed, the calm aftermath broken by the flurry of oh-no-I’m-gonna-be-late.
Naked and rifling through my suitcase I heard my phone chime. I read the text.
“He’s there!” I told him, “He’s in the bar. Waiting. He’s early! He’s 45 minutes early! Oh shit!”
The flurry of Marian-getting-ready turned into a whirlwind. Stockings… no. There wasn’t time. I would go without. Makeup… minimal. Well… I made time for an extra coat of mascara. In 11 minutes and 47 seconds I had gone from a blissful glow, to panic, to ready. At least I hoped I was ready.
“Do I look alright?” I asked him nervously. I could feel my heart racing.
“Yes. You look spectacular,” he said, still wrapped up in the tangle of sheets on the bed.
I checked the mirror again, not really believing him. But there was no time for anything else. I would have to do. With a quick kiss, I was out the door, down the elevator, through the lobby and onto the street, asking the bellman to hail a cab.
My thoughts wandered upstairs. Would he really be alright with what I was doing? Would he truly accept how I am? A wiser woman might not have tested those boundaries. But I’ve never been known for my wisdom.
Alone, I drifted to a haze of relaxation and near sleep, eager for her return while in a state of real compersion. She would return to me and that’s what mattered.
Because you see, dear readers, I wasn’t in the city to meet one blogger… I was here to meet two.
P.S. Today is my two year blogging anniversary.