Merci, M. Échantillon

My last post came from my first “date” with Échantillon. He later treated me with a lovely selection of toys and equipment, though it came as something of a surprise, since he previously gave me very little inkling of the sort of thing he was into. I had a much better idea later, while standing on my tiptoes with my hands tied to a hook over the door frame.

I had a lot of fun with him, but when I saw him again things were a little…different. We met to see a movie, which got me all excited for hand jobs in the back row, but he picked a really good movie and then led me to a seat smack dab in the middle of the theater. I thought maybe he had his signals crossed, but happily got engrossed in the film, my feet on the seat in front of me and my arms wrapped around my knees. Then about halfway in, his fingers tiptoed along my arm and grabbed my hand. Okay… I let him hold it for a while, but then I got bored with it and started stroking his thigh, figuring if he was going to distract me from fine cinema I might as well make it worth the while. He let it go on long enough for me to feel him getting hard through his jeans, but then tsked me and threaded his fingers through mine again. After a little while I think my derrière fell asleep.

On our way out of the theater he suddenly pulled me close and kissed me. “Yay!” I thought, ready to walk over toward his place. But just as I was about to say “take me home so I can taste your cock” he insisted on dinner. Fine. I wandered around with him, trying to think of the quickest place we could grab a bite. He suggested arepas, since I’d never had them. Good, great…at least it sounded like it wouldn’t take long. While standing in line to order I furtively grabbed at his belt. He chuckled and brushed my hand away. I tried not to fidget impatiently while waiting for the food.

Meanwhile, he insisted on getting-to-know-you talk, asking me about my family and my job and my interests and telling me all about his new apartment (awesome, I can’t wait to see it), and blah blah blah blah blah. As I blah blahed back to him it dawned on me that he was having a good time just hanging out with me. I settled down a little, laughing with him as I bit into the ridiculously full (but delicious!) taco-sandwich-thing and making eyes at him as I licked guacamole off my middle finger. In my haste to get to the sex I’d kind of forgotten that dates can be fun too.

I’m not wholly comfortable interacting with men unless we’re going tête à tête between the sheets, although I never really realized it until sitting across the table from this one. Face to face across a tiny little table, I got self-conscious and started squirming in my seat a little. I recognized that he was a little nervous too, that he wasn’t totally sure if I liked him or not. I resisted the inclination to alleviate his insecurity underneath the table and smiled instead. I reached across and touched his hand as I said, “Hey, I’m having a really nice time with you.” And I meant it. Suddenly, like magic, he smiled back and said, “Me too. Are you ready to go?”

Yes, that’s exactly the way to get me into your bed.

Take me to a nice bar, buy me delicious alcoholic beverages that are better for drinking than they are for getting drunk. Talk about things that are interesting. Tell me I look lovely in my dress. Touch my neck when you’re complimenting my earrings. Be interested in things I have to say. Teach me something new and tell me about books I’d like to read or films I’d like to see. Rub your knee against mine under the bar. Order me gourmet food and share it with me. Sharing is better than giving me my own. Refrain from making overtly sexual comments, but lead me into making them. Give me a little rub on the small of my back to give a little pretense to your desire to touch me. When I have had enough to eat and drink, don’t even give me a moment to question payment.

Once we’re out the door, push me against a wall–any wall–tell me how you’ve been holding back all night, then kiss me hard. Harder. Pull my hair to lift my chin and kiss my neck. Unbutton my coat and grope at my breasts. Fumble with the hem of my skirt. Press your erection against my thigh and tell me you want me. I’ll squeeze out from under you and run, but only to hail a taxi.

After you tell the driver where to go kiss me again. Place your hand on my knee…this should be a question more than an action, and my answer will be to open my thighs for you. Slide your fingers under my skirt and feel the bare skin at the top of my stocking. Gasp when you realize I’m wearing garters for you. Call me a slut and pull me into your lap. Wrap your arms around me, peel my skirt up to my hips and force your hand between my panties and my hot, wet pussy. Push one finger into me, lingering a moment to tease me, then rub it on my clitoris, whispering into my ear that sluts get what they ask for. Give me a safe word and tell me I’ll need it. When I come for you tell me to be absolutely silent and grin as I struggle to comply. Then slide your fingers in me, first one, then two. Rub at my g-spot. Ask me if I like being fucked with your hand in the back of a taxi. I do.

On our way into your home if I make a clever and adorable joke about the name of your building you should tell me it is clever and adorable. Rush me up the stairs to your apartment, but stop on the way to grope at my ass and nibble at my neck, and be sure to tell me it’s because you can’t resist. Take me to your kitchen first; I adore kitchens. Please make sure it’s clean. Pour me a glass of wine or champagne and also pour us each a glass of water. Do not forget this step–even if you don’t drink yours I will do so eventually. Put on music. Kiss me again, this time slower, less hungry. Tell me I’m a very bad girl for letting you touch me like that in the taxi. Tell me what happens to bad girls in your house. When my eyes light up, put a hand on my waist and steer me toward the bedroom.

La Retour

The Consultant came back into my life very suddenly. I caught him in a little online stalking and sent him an email… Suddenly I got a lengthy, apologetic letter in return that discussed how he thought I was looking for a committed relationship, and how he couldn’t do that for me.

Oh, les hommes and their silly assumptions about women!

I replied with a breezy invitation for some fun. After all, I want more than a good fuck, I want camaraderie too. Otherwise I’ll get bored. Oh sure, sometimes it’s nice to have a one night stand, but I really want someone on my speed dial who can be long term. Someone I can be friends with after we’re done fucking. Someone…well… cool.

We met up for a bite to eat, and it was like the first “date” all over again, only with more walking, since we hadn’t settled beforehand on a place to dine. I was engaged and interested in what he had to say, and nibbled at my food happily (waffles rock!), trying to throw signs across the table. “God you’re cute. Take me home.” He made a little joke about us having sex, but it only frustrated me. I couldn’t tell where he was coming from…was he not into me any more?

His signals were all mixed up. Mine were probably way out in both left and right fields. I’ve got to get better about that. Must make what comes out of the mouth match what the body is saying.

On our way back toward his place I awkwardly slipped my hand into his. Is that okay? Do we do that? I want to fuck you. I want to be friends with you. I don’t want a boyfriend. Can we hold hands? Sure, for a minute. Then he fussed with his belt buckle, which apparently was giving him some trouble. I decided it wasn’t meant to be and resigned myself to going home, which was just as well, since I had a ton of shit to do.

He apparently had a different idea, and as we meandered in a roundabout way toward his apartment, I said I’d walk him to his door for a little role reversal. “You’re not going to come up?” he asked. He had been expecting it!

For some reason I didn’t like that, so I played a little hard to get. In fact, I really was ready to leave. My period had just ended and I had my last “just in case” tampon in. I didn’t want to mess with that. I did, however, reeeeeeally want to get fucked. I was a little torn, so I let him decide. I called him on not showing his interest.

“I didn’t want to be pushy,” he offered.

“Maybe you should be a little more pushy,” I challenged with a sexy smile.

Suddenly we were making out in the courtyard of his building and he was pushing his erection into my hip, telling me how he wanted to lick my pussy and make me come. Nice. It didn’t take long for me to give the okay, but I enjoyed delaying the moment, making him work for it in public a little bit.

He chased me up the stairs, lifting the skirt of my dress to smack my ass and check out the panty situation (score! I wore pink lacy ones today!). I pretended to be scandalized by the exhibitionism of it all. Once inside, hands down the best thing was the kissing. We’re pretty compatible there, a little gentle nibbling, some teasing, every once in a while full-on tongue invasion. I’d forgotten what a pleasure it was to kiss him.

He threw me onto the couch and climbed on top me. I wanted to scream, “Hell yeah! Push me around! Smack me like I’m your little whore!” But I didn’t. I was too fixated on getting my mouth around his sweet cock. He got up to put on music, but I grabbed his hips and ordered him to remove the damn belt that had stopped us from holding hands earlier. He complied eagerly and I had my lips on him before he was all the way unzipped. I wrangled him onto the couch, where he groaned. “Oh, LaJou, you’re so good at that…” I smiled with my mouth full when he said my name. I sucked gently on the top half, swirling my tongue around the head a few times, making it throb a bit. I licked up and down the shaft and lightly scratched his thigh with one hand, pulsing my fist around the head with the other to keep the rhythm. Then I wrapped my lips around him again, trying that popping noise a couple of times to gauge the response. None that I could tell, but he’s kind of a sexual literalist. He talks a big dirty-talk game, but his reactions are actually pretty quiet. When I started deep throating though, he pulled me up for more kissing. I told him how much I love sucking his cock. I wanted him to know that’s what’s been driving me crazy the last two months.

Apparently it was good news to him. He flipped me onto my back and I wiggled out of my panties like a fish. Merd! In the heat of the moment I forgot to run to the bathroom to remove my tampon… Jesus, if it’s not one thing with this one it’s another! He gracefully patted my ass and sent me off to take care of business.

On my return I found him pants-less (so cute!) and he led me to the bedroom. I hopped onto the bed eagerly and he was right behind, pushing me onto my back and going down to eat me out. My vagina, apparently, loved this idea and felt the need to be noisy. Irritating, but we giggled it off and I was able to get to the top of the plateau. I told him to put his fingers inside me and he brought me all the way up, alternating kissing and watching me come. I love the taste of my pussy on his mouth… God, I love the taste of my pussy on his mouth. He asks to ride bareback. No dice, mister. Not unless I’m the only trick you’re turning.

As a consolation prize (for both of us), like a magnet to steel, my lips found his cock again. He couldn’t take it very long though before he shooed me off and slipped the condom on.  Then he laid back so I could be on top. Oh yeah.

“You deserve to get fucked,” he said gently, hearkening back to the first time we had sex, when he woke me up from years of shameful, selfish-feeling slumber. What he didn’t know was that I have changed since then. I grinned at him and put his hands on my hips. “I know,” I growled, and fucked him harder, throwing my head back and rubbing my clit against his pelvis.

We came together. Somehow though it wasn’t awesome. Something was lacking.

In the sticky heat I had to peel myself off him. We flopped back onto the bed and laid there for a few minutes collecting ourselves and being sweaty. I let myself snuggle for just a moment (I wanted to fall asleep so bad!), then began plotting my exit strategy. He asked if I wanted to take a shower. Nope. He said he wanted to take a shower. Great!

When he emerged from the bathroom I had hoped to be gone, but he was too quick for me. I kissed him before I left. The kiss became long and drawn out, and started getting hot. I wanted to go again.

But instead I decided to just go.