sex: encounter #9 – Brad

Lunch with my sister yesterday proved to me something: Among what I’d class as my intimate friends (let’s qualify them as saying I know what kind of vibrator they use) I appear to be the only one that’s getting any, any action that is. As my sister was mid-way through one of her endless litanies of complaints about her husband-of-two-years (doesn’t listen, wet towels on the bed, wants anal sex) I couldn’t help but think of Michael the creamy, lithe German student from the previous evening or when I straddled ‘a’ last Monday while my knickers were stuffed in his mouth. She came back from the loo, traced a finger around the rim of her wine glass and asked, ‘and you?’. ‘Oh, you know…’, I replied.

Brad-from-Boston had two things going for him: 1) He could answer a series of really silly questions about Boston (eg, have you ever met Noam Chomsky?) and 2) A thick 8″ cock (shaved too).

He’d agreed to pick me up in Southwark as I was a little late, okay I was actually a little worse for wear after three hours eating and drinking with my sister. I was determined not to repeat the events of the previous evening and omit the drink/chat part of the process but sitting in his car with the roof down and the wind in my hair I started to feel a little flushed and so…

Back at mine I led Brad-from-Boston into the bedroom and told him to get undressed. I got the Absolut from the freezer and a couple of glasses. Back in the bedroom I poured him a drink, surveyed his body (I was probably leering – lovely cock, big wide shoulders, defined stomach) and grinned to myself.

I undressed, actually I attempted a striptease (I should have put some music on maybe?).

Naked, I walked over to him, turned around and bent over. His tongue and hands were all over me in seconds.

I held on to the dresser. ‘Get it in me’ I said.

I watched him in the mirror as he slid into me. ‘Fuck me, fuck me’ I gasped. He did, we both came.

I kicked him out soon after and had a little nap on the sofa.