I stared awkwardly the first time I saw her smile. To simply call her beautiful misses just how extraordinarily lovely she was. In a sentence; She was a triumphant heroine from a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel come to life.
Venezuelan and proud she had pale skin, green eyes, and long black hair that held my gaze far too often. I'm not sure she ever felt she was sexy, and that made her a thousand times more alluring.
I had no business dating someone like her, the person that introduced us had vastly overestimated my capabilities and class. When our volunteer matchmaker asked if I'd like to see her again I was speechless. The group dinner was pleasant enough, but I was sure I'd admitted too much about my lack of education and my wilder times. Our first one on one date ended with an aborted hug (she tried, I dodged) after a pleasant but peculiar evening. I was smitten, but not hopeful.
I picked her up for date two in a pickup almost as old as she was, it was loud, unattractive, and my driving didn't help. Walking around the mall is my personal version of hell. I can't remember what movie we saw, or what kind of froyo I got – I do remember how pleasant she was and how gorgeous she looked.
I was so distraught when the date ended as miserably as the first that when I arrived home I confessed my frustrations via text.
"I wish I had swept you up in my arms and kissed you the first moment I saw you tonight"
"I wish that too" came the reply.
The hour long drive back to her place in my elderly pickup went faster than I care to admit. I fumbled an elegant entrance to her gated apartment complex, a dozen confused texts later I'm being led into her room.
I am not ready for this – we kiss – no swirling lift takes place.
Without any significant lead in, she announces that her roommate gave her condoms. I realize the depth of my good fortune and gather myself just enough not to pass out.
I was a few months out from the end of a long relationship that had deteriorated quite badly. I had had a grand total of one sexual encounter outside of the context of a relationship in my entire life.
Awash in foolish bravado from the late night commute I acted as if I wasn't terrified. Kissing her perfect lips again and again, my hands on every PG part of her body, intertwined with hers. Finally on her hips, then through her hair. My man paws pulling her so close I broke into laughter trying to reconcile reality.
Through all of this we're talking, in two hours I know enough to know that this isn't what sex has been like for her previously.
Clothes come off, shyness fades – the sounds she makes as I touch her break and rebuild my soul moment by moment. She tells me that if she was just screaming I don't have to ask if she liked it. I smile…
No one had ever gone down on her before, I assure her I don't expect her to return the favor just because I do it. I make sure she's really comfortable and start kissing her again.
Throughout the whole night my hands never left her body. I was always caressing some part of her. As I slowly kissed my way down her my hands followed. I traced her shoulders, neck, breasts, sides, and hips with my fingers. As I kissed the inside of her thigh softly I planted my hands on her hips, pulling her towards me.
Lightly as I could I touched my lips to hers, kissing just as I had so many times already that night. Gentle breaths gave way to moans and cries. I held her close to me as I searched for what she liked best.
I am not small in any way, and she was petite of frame but had an ass that made her country proud. I was concerned that I wouldn't perform well when it came to sex. I was happily shocked.
Apparently there is some correlation between intense recreational physical activity and better sex. Who would have thunk it?
Watching her pale breasts bounce as we fucked remains a high water mark sexually for me. Certainly not the biggest or the most perfect, she was intensely shy about them. I made a point to tell her how much I enjoyed them.
The three times I came that night remain some of the best sex I've ever had. No offense meant to other partners, but she participated from below and in front in wonderful ways. Picturing her figure in front of me now still leaves me reeling.
We had a number of encounters before it became obvious that I wanted more than she did out of things. Despite my upset at the circumstance, the compassionate half of me was happy when she later was engaged and married to someone who looks like a sweet-hearted man. I like to quietly take some credit for helping her to see how things could be…
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3lei0d/mf_i_went_back