What is wrong with me?[FM]

I’ve struggled with the decision to write this. What we shared wasn’t **real**, or entirely transparent….but it was passionate, and it was raw, and I still think about you when I touch myself at night. It was an evening that melted into morning, actions etching into my memory that I cannot shake. I don’t know who to tell because they won’t get it as he’s marries, so, here I am.

I met a man online when I was 21. I am now a mere month shy of 25, and he is two months over 50. If you are wondering, I didn’t know his true age upon our first video chat.
*girl, you know what a 50 year old man looks like*
I get it, you may not believe me, but he was an incredibly active cyclist who I can best describe as looking VERY much like Liev Schrieber. Boy, do I like me some Liev.

I won’t bore you with the minute details of our friendship, but it consisted of talking every day, morning ’til night. Video sessions, both of platonic and sexual nature. Happy birthday songs from him and his daughter. He lived in the Midwest as a single dad, and I was a student at a well-known school on the east coast. Needless to say, meeting wasn’t possible until he received an opportunity to make scholarship videos for a prolific company in New York. My now best friend, coming to New York City for the first time and staying in a gorgeous hotel overlooking the bright lights of what many consider the greatest place in the world…you can tell, there was nothing romantic or adventurous about this scenario.

I remember seeing him for the first time. His strong, 6’3″ frame hovering over me in dark denim with the dazzling Colgate smile I knew to…like. And there I was, standing at 5’1″ with my curly dark hair in my bright red Canada Goose. My God, I couldn’t wait until he could see how my black leggings and low cut top hugged my curves beneath this expensive potato sack of insulation. And yet, as we rode the elevator all we shared were giddy smiles. And as we entered the room, stories of our day and suggestions for dinner were all that we exchanged. This is the same man I’d grown to know extensively for 3 years, but there I was, riding back down the same elevator and finding a bar to, well, not have sex at.

You aren’t reading this story to hear about how delicious the pretzels were or how just the sound of his voice pulled at the corners of my lips. But, what I will mention, is he teared up talking about the recent passing of his mother, sharing stories he hadn’t shared in our usual daily conversations. It was that moment when I felt he would, at the very least, be my friend for many more years to come.

Now, let’s fast forward to how warm we felt as the alcohol settled into our systems and we walked back to the hotel….to play tic tac toe. Naturally, I am a competitive gal who can’t stop, won’t stop; however, while I am drinking…I am horrible. One loss, two losses, three losses, ~~floor~~ bed. This is where my tactic changed to throwing a pillow at his face with all my might.

He would tell me this is when he knew I wanted to share something special with him. That I gave him “the eyes”. The eyes that told him to climb on top of me and press his lips against mine, teasing me for my cherry chapstick all the while his excitement growing faster than I had ever felt.

You see, I’ve never been with a man so tall. As a shorter woman who takes pride in her time in the gym, I’ve often met healthy men…but a healthy man with a heavy duty package AND he was tall? Giiiiirl. Did it get hot in here? I digress.

I remember how quickly I felt goosebumps as he grew in his jeans, pressing against me with growing aggression while his lips were delicate, soft. Chuckling with mine as I squirmed feeling his cold fingers against my skin, pushing my leggings down. He was eager to go down on me, but I had promised that I would give him the best blowjob he’d had.

And I would.

He had no qualms about relaxing into the bed and seeing if I wasn’t all talk. As a perfectionist, and growing up an athlete, I like to win. I lived for the gentle sigh hed make as my tongue traveled from the base to the tip. My hunger grew as I listened for his preference between swirling around the head or my gentle flick of the tongue. The surprise in playing with his balls only grew when he realized that I wasnt afraid to gently invite them into my mouth as my pink nails trailed along his inner thigh. But, the true shock was how I refused let him leave New York without seeing a woman swallow him entirely. I had dreamt of how his hands would tangle in my hair, hearing his moans fill the room and intertwine with the sound of my gagging as my head bobs between his legs. You can never know what someone tastes like from watching them on a camera. How they’ll fill your mouth or how their length will kiss your tonsils. If you’ll like the pre-cum or worship their member like the perfect dick it is. I was lucky, because he was everything I imagined. He was everything I couldn’t have imagined, and that’s why I needed more.

To be continued…

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/eba6sv/what_is_wrong_with_mefm