I had butterflies in my stomach. My heart jumped at every buzz to indicate my phone had received a text. My face broke into the most dorky, wide grin that I was unable to hide upon seeing that yes, it is from him! My English lover! And this is the story of the amazing sex with my English lover.
I was debating for a while to write this one or not. He was a complete gentleman, he was debonair and he made me feel like a very lucky girl. Like nearly all my serious lovers though, he was a workaholic who was constantly in another country and meeting up with him felt like managed to glimpse a shooting star. This sounds overly romantic perhaps, but this was a romance that fuels the teenage fiction sections of the bookstore.
This one particular night, he had just come back from a two week project in India. We met at a local restaurant near his apartment, and he looked tired. Still he was able to recount his adventures excitedly and his work passionately. It was one of the things that made me like him so much.
Walking back to his apartment, we held hands, swung our arms and were both acting pretty childishly. Things heated up as we entered his apartment building though, both of us stealing kisses, somewhat dangerously, as we climbed the stairs to his apartment. Upon entering we immediately locked into a passionate kiss, him pushing me back against the entrance door, hands in my hair and me undoing his shirt buttons.
There was a feverish need to our kissing, both realising we had missed the other but wanting to savour the reunion also. We broke apart, both panting heavily. I removed my hat and coat, he finished undoing his shirt buttons. He led me towards his bedroom which was large but bare but for a king sized bed and some of his tennis rackets leaning against the wall. I moved onto the bed, wriggling my bum to indicate that he should follow. We both stripped each other down to our underwear. Kisses covering both our bodies, our hands touching everything as if we needed to memorise it.
He slowly tugs away at bra, his hand slipping under the soft fabric and cupping my breasts. Then, before I know it, his mouth has enclosed over one stiff peak, and a moan escapes my mouth. His mouth his hot and everywhere he kisses my skin burns, tingles where his fingertips tease me. My entire body burns up, waves of need wash over me and and I want him to take me, but also love the slow torture of patience. The room is quiet but that only amplifies every gasp or moan that escapes my lips as his body covers mine.
His hands reach down to my panties, slowly pulling them off. He briefly grazes my ankle, his hands moving upwards to massage my legs, stroking my inner thigh. I can’t take it any longer, and start begging him to take me. I’m quivering with need. He kisses me, and enters me in a single, smooth stroke and I’m momentarily overwhelmed by it. I feel so full. Almost like I can’t breath, because every thing has just been taken over by his presence, and yet it feels so good. Every thrust drives me a little further towards the edge, and I almost think that I won’t be able to take it. But then my body climbs higher and higher until suddenly it all explodes in one impossibly long climax, where waves of pleasure cause me to convulse in pleasure around him.
I was so lost in how I felt that I’m almost dazed as I hear his own heavy breathing and shaking above me, until I feel him collapse on top of me and we are in this cocoon of post sex bliss. I sigh with happiness, smaller waves of pleasure, aftermath quakes I guess, still rippling through my body. Not that it takes long until I want to do it all over again!