Not Always But Often (long) [MF]

Dancing is a cliché that’s often used in movies to show two people falling in love. I’m fully aware that there is a culture of people that go out to clubs for the express purpose of dancing. In fact, I’ve done it before, but it’s not a habit of mine. This story does not start at a dance club.

Instead it begins at a hotel. Funny, that’s often where they finish, but this one starts there. I wish it were an extravagant hotel. Or maybe a super-modern one. But this hotel was none of these. It was in a suburb, on a road with a lot of big name hotel chains. The parking lot needed paving. The location wasn’t particularly convenient. The hotel was chosen due to its cheap price.

Your circle of friends may have different ways of gathering, but I’m in one that enjoys getting together for a long weekend at a hotel every now and then. It’s an excuse to drink, act recklessly, reminisce, fuck, and drink some more. While I don’t often go to these weekend excursions, due to finding them to be a little tired, they’re enjoyable every once in awhile.

However, the catch to this one was that I was sick. Sicker than I had been in awhile. Sick enough that I seriously considered not attending at all. Uncomfortably sick. But seeing as I had already booked the hotel room, and convinced myself that I really wanted to go, off I went. Against better judgment. And I’m glad I did, because I met Amanda.

Friday night at the hotel was forgettable. I think I took a lot of Tylenol, went to a crappy Mexican chain restaurant that had an inexplicable wait, and experimented with how the drugs I was on would react to tequila. Unsurprisingly, they caused me to pass out on the ten minute trip back to the hotel. Time to call it a night despite people’s urging me to stay up.

Sleep helped though, and despite looking like warmed over hell, I felt okay on Saturday. Good enough where I could join everybody at a different crappy Mexican restaurant. Amanda was at that lunch, and we talked briefly. She was a student that lived in the city that was adjacent to the suburb we were in. We only spoke briefly as I didn’t know her and there were a lot of other people around, but I noticed a few things about her. First of all, she was smart as a whip. I consider myself to be fairly smart (though incredibly stupid at times, I am a male of course) but I don’t think I could hold a candle to Amanda. This struck me as very sexy. Second of all, she was rather shy. It also didn’t help that she was a friend of a friend, and didn’t really know anybody. It’s tough to fit in with a boisterous crowd if you don’t know anybody.

Lunch ends unspectacularly. I managed not to get sicker, which was a plus. And back to the hotel everybody went. One of the interesting aspects of these hotel getaway weekends is that they’re very event-based. Sure there’s always plenty of hanging out and drinking in hotel rooms, but everybody knows that at 1 PM they have to be at such and such place. And at 7 PM, this other thing starts, so you’d better be ready. But the time between is when you learn what somebody is really like. There are those who wanted to run in the hotel gym. Others played video games. And others still continued on their three-day bender.

Me, I took a nap.

I figured I needed my energy for that evening. The big event was a dance, which struck me as strange, as most of the people in attendance don’t like dancing… However I’m a pretty decent dancer, and I’ve found that being one of the few guys in a large group who can dance well usually helps in the getting laid department. So when the music started, I began looking for dance partners.

Being a bit of a dance veteran, I knew it to be similar to going to a bar. Don’t make your move too early. Bide your time until things heat up a bit. I take my own advice and dance with a random skinny girl with long brown hair that I’m slightly friendly with. She’s… not the best dancer, and quickly scurries off after the song ends.

Time passes. I dance a little bit here and there, but mostly talk with friends. It almost feels like a junior high spring formal, where people are all doing their own thing, and the vibe is slightly awkward. One of the main differences though is that most junior high kids don’t smuggle booze into the school gymnasium, and this hotel had a bar. Using my experience from last night, I get what would normally be a fairly weak cocktail by my standards, and drink it slowly. This proves to be the right strategy, and in very little time, I get a slight buzz on, make a mental note that I should take medication more often, and amble over to a few of my friends hanging out at the end of the bar.

Then Amanda enters the room.

She still looks shy and a little bit awkward, but there’s one difference between now and this afternoon. Before she was wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans. Now she was wearing a floor-length black scoop neck dress. She looked amazing. Long flowing brown hair, an incredible figure, and a smile that could pacify a charging bear. The needle on the record in my mind skipped and went haywire. My wait was over. I knew I had to pounce or somebody else would, and that couldn’t happen.

“Hey again.”

“Hi.”

“Your dress looks great.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I have the next dance?”

“Yes.”

Her one word answers led me to believe that she was still awfully shy, but at least this time there was something to do other than eat stale nachos. The song that was playing ended, and the next MP3 is up, and I immediately recognize it. Luck Be A Lady by Frank Sinatra. I immediately realize that there’s no screwing around here. This is a trial by fire. No warm up, no training wheels, it’s do or die. I take Amanda’s hand, and we’re off.

I’m pleased with the song selection as it starts slowly, which is good for getting a feel for each other. And it’s clear that she’s experienced as well. She stays with the beat, knows how to follow, and is light on her feet. I start with the basics, but it’s clear that we’re both of the level that we can do more. So we do.

I read once that the man’s job while dancing is to make his partner look good. In this case I knew I wouldn’t need any help, she was doing a fine job on her own, but I was banking on Amanda wanting to feel good as well. In the entire ballroom, she knew maybe a half-dozen people. From what I can tell nobody really talked to her much at lunch, so this was her first impression. And while I didn’t ask anybody, they had to have been impressed.

She twirled, she dipped, she glided effortlessly in and out of my arms. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers never had it so good. While previously I thought the large dance floor looked a bit silly while mostly empty, it did the trick perfectly. While song ended a lot sooner than I would have liked, we didn’t care. When the next one began we kept it up. I had barely spoke a dozen sentences to this girl, but our bodies were becoming very well acquainted, and not in the way my body usually learns somebody. This time I learned tempo, pacing and not to linger.

People would later tell us that we danced beautifully. I didn’t really care how I looked, but I felt great. And I could tell from her smiling that Amanda did as well.

We danced for about an hour until Amanda told me that she needed to get a ride so she could catch the last train back to the city. Part of me was thinking, “You have a hotel room about five hundred feet away.” but the other part was thinking, “Let her go.” And for whatever reason I let her go. While there were definite sexual undertones to our dancing, the vibe wasn’t right. I did want her. Badly. But this was not the night. I just hoped that the right night would happen. Somehow.

Amanda walked away and I watched her the entire time. Email addresses, IM handles and phone numbers were exchanged. And like that, she was gone.

The rest of the evening saw me dance a little bit more, and then retreat back to my room for the night. Sunday was fairly uneventful. It contained breakfast and a long ride home. People spoke about getting together again in the abstract. I knew that I wanted to, if only to see Amanda again. Plus, being healthy and seeing friends would be a nice change.

After spending a long weekend with friends, the day after it all ends and you’re back to your daily grind has a tendency to be soul crushing. While in some ways it’d be nice to live the kind of life that saw me constantly partying, I don’t think it’d work out well in the end. Too often I’d likely retreat from the constant barrage of people everywhere, and hide in a little shell.

Thus it was back to the grind as it were. But it did have a silver lining… I knew that I’d get to talk with Amanda at some point. Luckily, I wasn’t particularly busy that day, and people were still sympathetic due to my now mostly-gone illness.

Finally she signs on after what felt like an eternity, but was only a little more than an hour. Time spent waiting feels like it drags on and on. But the second she greeted with “Hi,” it made everything worth it.

I re-read all my past IM conversations with Amanda prior to writing this story. It was interesting to me to view our relationship now that it’s in the past. I can see why I liked her. I can see why things didn’t work out. I can see how our lives were in some ways very different.

While she didn’t have a problem instigating conversation with me, she had a stoicism about her that could be slightly difficult to get a grip on. It’s one of the many reasons why talking to somebody online is vastly different than talking to them in person or on the phone. It seemed like she liked me, and I made it clear that I liked her as well.

Our conversations rarely touched on sex. Sure it came up from time to time, as well as us lamenting about her needing to get home at such an early hour that faithful night we met, but it was never at the forefront of the conversation. But we did talk about the next time we’d see each other.

Summer was coming, which meant it was just about to be BBQ time. And BBQs are a great excuse to get people together for eating, drinking and general tomfoolery. Email flew around discussing possible dates and who’s available when. I attempted to keep my schedule as open as possible, and I’m sure Amanda did as well.

Time passed. We talked when we had the chance. A lot of it was recapping the various things that were going on in our lives. I liked hearing about the things she did, even if it was generic “Yeah, I hung out with my friends on Saturday” kind of stuff. We never got overly specific, due to not knowing the other people in our lives. I also failed to mention all the sex I was having. It could be seen as dishonest that I didn’t mention it. But it also could be seen as respectful. And it’s not like she told me everything she was doing, I’m sure I was getting some version of the “Hey, I like this guy, let’s not go full throttle” treatment.

And just when I was starting to get frustrated about not seeing Amanda, a date was finally decided upon. Not only that, but my place was chosen to be the location of the BBQ. Interesting…

I didn’t have any problem with hosting, other than the possible messes that could erupt. It had the potential of being incredible or awful. Possibly at the same time. The decision did change the dynamic of my discussions with Amanda, which was to be expected. Now we had something to look forward to, now we had a plan.

*To the most beautiful moment in life, Better than a deed, better than a memory, the moment… of anticipation!* – Jacques, The Simpsons

The countdown had begun. A month turned into weeks. Weeks to days. Literally hundreds of emails were exchanged. Who’s bringing buns? Do we really need three different kinds of vodka? Is a flip cup table even necessary? Important questions were answered. Amanda asked if she could have a little corner of the floor in my room to sleep on. I told her that I didn’t think it’d be a problem.

But finally, the day came when people would be arriving. The waiting was over. I’d get to see Amanda. I’d get to see my friends. I’d get to eat charred burgers with ketchup. I’d get beer. I also wanted everything to go smoothly. People would be coming over, Amanda would be there, other friends would be there, girls I’ve hooked up with in the past would be there. The possibility of something blowing up in my face was something I couldn’t ignore, but dwelling on it seemed counter-productive.

I was a bit anxious.

In order to calm my nerves, I drank a lot.

This decision had mixed results. My anxiety level did end up falling. But so did the level of my inhibitions. I was flirty with Amanda. I was flirty with random guys. I was flirty with random girls. If it moved, I probably hit on it. The details remain blurry to this day. My hope was that people chalked it up to me being drunk and having fun. I’m sure there were people who chalked it up to me being an asshole. I’m sure there were people who were happy to see me having a good time.

At some point I passed out in my living room, and woke up at about 5 AM. The lights were on, the music was on, the TV was on. People were passed out in awkward looking positions. It looked like a good party had been strewn across the floor. I turned the lights and music off and went to bed.

Inside my room there were two girls sleeping on the floor, and one in my bed. Clearly I should throw parties more often. Julia (more on her another day) was in my bed and soundly sleeping. The two girls on the floor I didn’t recognize, but I assumed that Amanda was among them. It was too late to really care about it though, and I was down for the count.

Morning came all too soon. Check that, afternoon came all too soon. My bed and room were empty. I put my robe on and staggered downstairs. Sunlight was flooding in from the windows. Everything hurt. The PlayStation was on. Julia was playing. Amanda was hanging out, as were a few other guys. This presented a difficult situation. While I was glad that I was able to have a successful party, it was over now and time to go home. However I didn’t want to sound like I was kicking them out, that wouldn’t be very accommodating of me. So instead I poured myself a gigantic glass of juice and sat next to Amanda.

“Rough night?”

“I sort of remember enjoying it. Did anything bad happen?”

Amanda glanced over at Julia who was busy shooting something evil.

“Did I?” I mouthed towards Amanda.

She shook her head.

Phew. If I had spent all that time looking forward to Amanda and then got drunk and fucked Julia, it would have been a colossal waste. For once I was glad that I somehow managed to keep my cock in my pants.

This isn’t going to come as a shock, but being hungover sucks. Being hungover while trying to get rid of house pests also isn’t my preferred way to spend a Saturday, but I didn’t really have a choice, so I made the best of it. Showered, shaved, ate some chips that were sitting around. Drank massive quantities of liquids, ate a bunch of Tylenol.

Come evening, the crowd had thinned. Besides Amanda and I, only Julia and Thomas remained. I came to the executive decision that chips weren’t going to cut it either, and dinner was necessary. Being that everybody was in my town, I was deferred to for a restaurant suggestion. I mentioned knowing a good Thai place, and off we went.

Most of my time was spent paying attention to Amanda. Despite having talked online for months, it was still enjoyable getting to know her. I liked how she smiled when she looked at me. She had very nice eyes, and wasn’t afraid to order something other than Pad Thai for dinner.

After dinner we all kind of aimlessly wandered around. I knew that I wanted to go back to my place with Amanda, but I was also pretty sure that Julia was jealous of us. Thomas just seemed kind of happy to be hanging out. He and Julia were good friends, and I figured they would stick together. Ideas of what to do were discussed. Movie, bar, club, and finding other friends to hang out with were all mentioned. But then somebody said that they needed to check something online and didn’t have a smart phone. Next door to the Thai place was a Best Buy, which seemed to be appropriate.

Upon entering, Julia and Thomas wandered off in one direction and Amanda and I in the other. Nervously, she walked over to a computer and started to pull up a site. But I just stood next to her and looked at her. She closed her browser window and looked at back at me. I stepped closer and kissed her. Slowly. The computer section at Best Buy isn’t pretty far down on the list of the most romantic places to have a first kiss, but the fact that it was the first time we were alone was pretty hot.

“So what do you want to do tonight?”

“I don’t care, but I’m here, and I just want it to be with you.”

We find Thomas and Julia again after their email was checked.

“So what’s going on tonight?”

“Eh, nothing really.”

More twiddling of thumbs. Then a light bulb pops up in my head. I turn to Amanda.

“Hey, want to go dancing?”

“Yes!”

Not only did I know that this would be fun, but I also knew that Julia and Thomas didn’t like to dance at all. They also heard what was probably the strongest statement in any direction from Amanda all day, which probably played a part in their promptly leaving. We hug goodbye, and say that we should all do it again soon. They begin to walk towards the exit, and we try to find a site that would tell us where would be good to dance tonight. About a minute passes, and I turn to Amanda again.

“Hey, do you want to not go dancing tonight?”

She turns to look and me and smiles.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And like that we were out of there, and on the way back to my place.

We I raced home. I didn’t really have a plan in mind, everything was sort of being figured out along the way. Yes, I clearly liked her. Yes, I was happy to be alone with her. Yes, I wanted to fuck her, but I wanted other things as well. So when we walked in and situated ourselves, I took a more passive role than usual.

“Let’s see what’s on TV,” she suggests.

“Okay.”

So I grab the remote and we both cuddle up on the couch. I don’t remember what was on. I wasn’t really paying attention. My senses were over loaded with beautiful girl. We were both half-reclined on either side of the couch, with our legs tangled in the middle. Her right foot was closest to me, and I lazily stroked her ankle with my thumb as we pretended to care about what was on.

Often in these situations I get too anxious. It had been months since we met. We’ve talked a lot. I’ve kissed her once. The floodgates seemed like they were open, but just a crack. Every instinct inside of me said “pounce on her,” but I refrained. Biding my time seemed like the plan. If it hasn’t become obvious by now my libido can be ravenously hungry, and it was just about at its peak. My theory was that taking it slowly would pay off. I hoped.

As I attempted to stay cool, my mind started to scheme, like it tends to do. I don’t know whether I started thinking more clearly, or if the pent up desire was causing me to try to outsmart myself. But I started thinking that Amanda was probably on the shy side. In our conversations she revealed to me that it had been a long time since anything had happened with her. And I knew from past experience that having an extended dry spell can make one question even the most basic things about themselves. Am I attractive? Am I doing something wrong? Does he like me? And so on… Thus, in order to stop the chain of events that may be going on in her head, I decided to take action.

I pulled my legs back, shifted my body forward, and kissed her. While the first one contained many fireworks and explosions and thoughts of “finally!”, this kiss was a lot longer and slower. I got to really get a sense of how she kissed, and as difficult as this is to admit to myself, she wasn’t very good. In a similar vein to how everybody thinks they are great at giving blowjobs, everybody probably thinks they are a good kisser as well. It might have been a product of her being nervous, or out of practice, or something, but it just didn’t feel that good. She managed not to be accepting of my mouth, nor particularly exploratory. Her mouth was small, but she didn’t play to her advantages. It seemed like there was some sort of disconnect. Like she didn’t exactly know what she was doing, or wasn’t comfortable with me. At the time it didn’t bother me; I was so excited to kiss her, that she could have had three rows of teeth and I’d have loved it. So I continued on.

The old cliché about sex being like pizza such that “even when it’s bad, it’s good” is sort of true. It also applies to kissing as well. It’s hard to really complain when you’re kissing a cute girl who you’ve been crushing on, and I certainly wasn’t. My fingers got to run themselves through her hair. My teeth got to bite her lower lip. My mouth got to suck on her ear lobe. My back got to feel her hands run up and down it. My brain also had the feeling of “Success at last!” which greatly overpowered any technical critique of her kissing. In fact, my brain was so wrapped up in this that I suggested we go up to my room. She accepted.

I helped her up off the couch and took her by the hand. We both get on my bed and lock ourselves in another long kiss. Only this time it was less restrained. My body was on top of hers, and we started to kiss more vigorously. My tongue started probing deeply into her mouth. I sucked her neck, and her ears. I put both hands in her hair and pulled her in to kiss her. Hard. Her body felt warm pressed up against mine. Mine did too. I took my shirt off and discarded it. She kissed my collarbone, and I moaned in approval. I moved my body back down to kiss her again, and we rolled around on the bed until she was laying on top of me.

My hands rubbed her back beneath her shirt as she kissed me. They moved up until they got to her bra strap, and then back down again. My hands went up her side until they reached her bra, and back down again. Up and down several more times while we kissed. There ends up being a slight break in our kiss, and I use the opportunity to take her shirt off. She has on a fairly plain looking white bra. I move my hands around back, undo the clasps, and take it off.

Oh. My. God.

It’s not like I wasn’t aware of Amanda’s body, I had been pressed up against it, I had danced with it, and I had thoroughly fantasized about it. But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for this. Her breasts were absolutely, incredibly, unbelievably gorgeous. Exquisite. Divine. At this point in my life I had been with a lot of women, and her breasts were easily some of the best. Top two. Think Sammy Braddy, but a bit fuller and more perky.

I love breasts. A lot. And I know the tricks to making breasts look nice too, which is why I often inwardly chuckle when I see pictures of girls using tricks to make themselves look more desirable than they are. Pushing them together, pushing them up, wearing an enhancing bra, breast lifts, breast enlargement, sticking them out, underwater, jumping, putting ones arms straight down so that the breasts will protrude more… There are many.

Amanda didn’t use any of those tricks.

Her clothing was unflattering. Even the dress she wore when we met didn’t do her breasts justice. Her bra was very plain. But underneath it all was wonder and amazement. I felt like I stumbled on some well-kept secret. The discovery of Amanda’s breasts made everything worth it. And I fully intended on enjoying them.

There was lots of licking. Even more sucking. Fondling, caressing, pinching, teasing. I played with her breasts when she was on top of me so I could feel them hanging down. We flipped over so she was on her back, and I played with them there. I don’t deny the fact that I can become obsessed with breasts in general, but rarely do I become so singularly-focused on a specific pair. Obviously yeah, when you’re with a girl you want to be focused on her, but even as I write this, I can’t help but drift off thinking about her breasts.

Yeah, so I spent a good amount of time with them. And just incase I need to state it, my cock was hard as titanium. The skin was stretched so tightly, you could run your fingernails up and down it without scratching. I needed to fuck her. Partially because it would be awesome, but also because I’d get the chance to play with her breasts more when they were bouncing around while we fucked.

So I took her pants off.

Amanda was unshaven and very wet. I didn’t go down on her for a particularly long time, we had plenty of foreplay already. She was also really tight, which I knew would be nice. And interestingly, despite the fact that she really seemed to be enjoying… well everything, her legs weren’t open very wide. When I was licking up and down her labia, her thighs pressed somewhat gently against both sides of my head. It made me feel like I was being engulfed by her pussy, which I thought was pretty hot, but I wasn’t sure if that was what she intended.

Either way, I continued to lick her up and down, occasionally focusing on her clit. I wanted to tease her and get her so hot that she’d open up and demand that I fuck her, even though I didn’t think that’d actually happen.

Eventually, I eased up, and kissed her breasts again.

“I really want you.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Of course.”

I grab a Mangum, roll it on, and get back on top of her. More kissing. More hands on breasts. I position my cock at the entrance of her pussy, and try to slide in, but am finding it difficult. I keep kissing her though, figuring this is some kind of game. It’s not that she was playing hard to get, but showing me that despite the fact that she was on her back she was boss was a sly move. So I continue to kiss her while our lower bodies struggle.

This goes on for a few minutes, and we continue to kiss, but I notice that Amanda is a bit distracted. If it were a game, she’d be looking me in the eyes, almost daring me to fuck her. But she wasn’t. She was looking down. And all of a sudden everything made sense.

“Amanda?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a virgin?”

“…Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I thought you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

It’s pretty sad to say that there is a large percentage of the population that she’d be correct about. But luckily, I wasn’t one of them. So I hugged her.

“No, of course I’m interested in you.”

I could feel her release. She had been holding this for a long time. Since we met. Months upon months. It sort of boggled my mind too. Here was this extremely smart girl who was drop dead gorgeous, and she was a virgin. It was difficult to believe in some ways.

“Can I ask why not?”

“I just never met anybody right.”

I hug her again. I can’t begin to understand what this was like for her, but I’m sure it wasn’t easy. So while I desperately wanted her, this was more important. We talked for a few more minutes about her virginity. I tried to be understanding and considerate.

“So do you want to try?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me show you. Spread your legs wider. Wider.”

“I’m not very flexible.”

“Well, as wide as you can without it being too uncomfortable.”

I had experience with virgins before (we’ll get to those stories some day…) so I had a vague idea of what to do.

“Now try to relax your muscles. Don’t fight me. Accept my body into yours.”

It was difficult. She was scared, but excited. Her muscles were really tense. And I know that I’m physically not the first person that anybody should have sex with. Hell, there are plenty of people who happily identify as slutty sluts that struggle with my cock…

But I was patient. And slow. So slow. Her body eased slightly, and I let her get used to what it feels like. We never had a conversation about masturbation, so I wasn’t sure if she had anything inside her before.

This process continued on for awhile. I’d slowly make progress, and Amanda would re-tense her muscles. But gradually, she eased up to the point where I could go about half way inside her, exit, and then re-enter again. It was progress.

So I sloooooowly started to fuck her. Still only half way, but enough to where she could start to feel something other than discomfort. And then, she started to enjoy it. Her muscles eased a bit, and her breathing got heavier. I didn’t think she would be able to relax enough to have an orgasm, but I figured I could help her to enjoy it. And enjoy it myself, which I was hoping she’d like too.

The slow pace that we had been on was also managing to build up what felt like a gigantic orgasm inside me. By the time that she had started to enjoy herself, we had been fucking for about twenty minutes. To her credit, she was still quite wet, which was sexy. And so incredibly tight. When I was going slower this wasn’t much of an issue, but now that I had started to build a rhythm, it was getting more and more difficult to not speed up. I didn’t want to hurt her, but good lord did I want to cum.

“You feel so good.”

“…”

“Can I cum for you?”

“yes”

I could barely hear her, and again, probably can’t imagine everything that was going through her head. But I knew that if I lasted a lot longer it would probably increase her discomfort even more, so I felt like I needed to cum. So I increased my speed just a little and started talking to her. I said how good she felt, and that I loved being inside her. I told her how hot I thought she was and that it was amazing to feel our bodies against each other. I asked if she was ready. She nodded. And I came. It took just about all my self-restraint to keep from slamming my cock all the way inside her, but I managed, and promptly collapsed.

Slowly, I exited her body, and held her in my arms. She held me back, and started to cry.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this.”

I didn’t want to press it. There would be time to discuss later. Right now she needed to feel me, not hear me. She needed to know that I was there for her, and I wasn’t going anywhere. I held her tight, and slowly rocked back and forth.

It was going to be okay.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/9czl5w/not_always_but_often_long_mf