“Oh my God you’re bleeding, like, a LOT.”
Poor Mr USA’s cock looked like it had butchered me.
Ten days early. TEN DAYS EARLY.
Mr USA and I connected on OCK. For him it was my boobs (of course) and my short hair (a rare man indeed). For me it was just *something* about his profile and the fact he was a yank. I have a thing for a US accent.
We texted over a couple of days and even spoke on the phone, a first for me with an OKC connection. He sounded lovely. We talked about what he was doing while he was here, I gave him some suggestions, we eased into gentle speak about how attractive he found me and how hot my hair was (it is) and how much we were looking forward to meeting each other.
If I ever lose the exhilaration of that initial contact then it’s time to pull out.
We meet at his hotel and the plan is to go out and listen to some live music. I feverishly research this as I haven’t gone out to listen to live music since about 1994.
But there’s some drama with his hotel reservations and he comes downstairs on the phone talking to some customer service person as well as front desk. I was kind of expecting a passionate first kiss but it’s a quick soft peck and then I’m just sort of left standing while he goes off and deals with whatever the problem is.
I’m onto The Posse saying alarm bells were ringing (I wasn’t convinced about his shoewear either) but I hold the course.
I’d bought a bottle of Veuve for us to share, for when we got back to his room or whenever. We go back to his room, he’s still on the phone. I can feel my vagina drying up. I pour champagne and take several deep gulps.
His room has a view so I pretend to care about that while wondering what the fuck I am doing. Eventually he motions for me to come and sit next to him on the bed. We “touch” if that makes sense, I’m rubbing his leg, he my arms.
His still talking to this ridiculous customer service person and he pulls me on top of him. It’s pretty hot groping someone’s cock and licking their ear while they try to keep it together on a phone call.
Finally he hangs up and we’re underway.
What followed was amazing. Fantastic. Exquisite. There was hot and heavy action and then cooling off to chat about stuff, rinse and repeat.
One thing I am taking from this whole experience is how great sex is in your 40s. It can be intense, sexy, funny, awkward, intimate, wonderful all in a number of minutes. It’s intoxicating.
He knew his way around the female form. Very well.
Things are at their peak, I’ve come twice and he’s about to when he looks down and sees dark patches. Fucking blood everywhere. Carnage.
There’s showering and apologies and mortification on my part. I check my calendar and report back that yes, it is 10 days early*.
It doesn’t end the evening. While internally I’m smarting a little that he didn’t actually ask if I was OK (granted he was resoundingly covered in blood not just on his condom-coated cock) it set off a couple of hours of really hot intimacy. His hair obsession had us spooning, him licking and kissing the back of my neck, my ears, my hair. Then more of my hair, OMG is he trying to eat my hair?
He kept asking if I’d let him shave my head. I laughed it off. He asked again. Um no.
We kiss, and talk, and spoon and sleep, I wake early – 4:30, kiss him (how divine is kissing) and leave back into a city damp from overnight rains.
He leaves in a few days later.
Mtc
RD
* Wasn’t my period. A sex injury? Break-through bleeding? Who knows, it was gone the next day.