It’s been noted that so far, nearly all of these stories involve hasty encounters: a quick coupling in a passageway or a passenger seat, a blur of flying clothes and tangled bodies, all with the clock ticking and Somewhere to Be.
That’s fair enough. In my situation (and sometimes, the woman in question’s situation as well), unfettered time can be a scarce commodity. It’s a tradeoff, and one I’ve obviously been willing to make multiple times — but sometimes, it’s nice to be able to relax, to unwind and to let things unwind on a slower reel.
This, as I’m sure you’ve already sussed out, was one of those times.
Early 2000s, year not quite pinned down. That makes me late 30s, or just 40. She was in her mid-20s. Again, I couldn’t say exactly. What I can say is that she was a sweet smiling preschool teacher, with generous curves and long, beautiful deep red hair.
On the minus side, she lived three hours away. On the plus side, her hometown was on my way home after dropping my family off for a week with the in-laws that summer.
She called me once, near the end of my drive there, to ask if I was sure. She didn’t want me to be disappointed. I told her I wouldn’t be, and I was right.
She was shy at first when she let me into her little house, blushing and smiling — and asking once more if I was sure, if I liked her in person. I decided to let my lips do the talking, but slowly. I kissed her once, softly. She smiled, and I kissed her again. This time, she kissed me back — still softly, but I could tell she believed me, knew that I really was sure.
We didn’t even sit on her couch at first. We just stood, arms around each other, and our kisses gradually began to be bolder, more urgent. Her lips parted and her tongue met mine, and whatever small spine of hesitancy still remained — well, it snapped.
She melted into me, my hands in her hair and my lips moving from her mouth to her neck, her shoulder. But having taken that long — almost half an hour — to get that far, I didn’t want to spoil the new mood by rushing.
She was wearing jeans and a button-up blouse. It was another five minutes before the first button came undone, five more after that before the second, and so on. And with each new bit of exposed skin, my lips followed and her breathing grew heavier. I began to notice that she trembled every time I reached for a new button, that she threw her head back and moaned softly when my lips grazed the fabric of her bra.
Eventually, the blouse slid away (with some help, of course), down from her shoulders and onto the floor. I moved behind her, swept that long hair aside, so that it went over her shoulders and down over her right breast. She shivered; I began kissing her shoulders, then her shoulder blades, then down her spine to her bra strap. Her skin was warm velvet, her murmurs a soft encouragement.
One hook undone, then two, then three. The bra joined her blouse on the floor. She turned to face me again, and our mouths found each other again. Then she reached for the hem of my shirt, pulled it up and over my head. I could feel her breasts against my chest, and I bent to cup one, then the other, with my hands, lifting them to kiss her nipples and circle them with my tongue.
She gasped when I gently took one within my teeth and then flicked it hard with my tongue. That moment flicked a switch. After about fifteen seconds, she suddenly pulled away and dropped to her knees, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans on the way down. She pulled the jeans and my boxers down around my knees, and the next thing I knew I was in her mouth. And where she’d been shy before, she was anything but hesitant now — taking me all the way in, working me with her hands. My own hands were tangled in her hair — but I wasn’t ready to come yet, so I stroked her cheek and said, “Your turn.”
Soon, we were both naked on the living room carpet. She hadn’t spent much time getting down to the business of oral, so I followed her lead. There were no preliminary kisses, no soft introductory licks. I held on to her soft thighs and plunged my face between them — long, deep, wet strokes over her clit that made her hips twitch. She was shaven, slick, soaked.
“Nnh … Nnh … Nnh”: That’s as close as I can get to the sounds she was making as I went down on her. Given her reaction to the light nipple bite earlier, I decided to try the same on her clit — only much more lightly.
“NNNNNHHHHHH.” She lifted her hips hard, and I did it again, flicking my tongue over her when I released her from between my teeth this time.
She grabbed me by the back of my head. Hard. I took the cue, clamping her clit lightly between my incisors once more and flicking my tongue back and forth over it at the same time.
“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”
Imagine that sound going on for 30 seconds or so, with maybe two pauses for breathing. That was her, her thighs clamped against my ears, her hands holding me to her. Then, a long, shaky “Ohhhhhhhhhhh” as the last of the spasms worked their way out of her body.
She lay there, eyes closed, panting and shaking.
“Need a break?” I asked her.
She squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, shook her head hard.
“Want me to keep going?”
Hard nod.
She inhaled hard when I moved into her. When I lifted her legs over my shoulders, her eyes snapped open. But as frantic as things had been before, I wanted to see how long I could make this part last. That wasn’t going to be easy — because in addition to being extremely warm and wet, she was also clamped down hard on me.
But as time went on, and I kept moving slowly, she relaxed a bit and we fell into a languid rhythm. I lowered her legs from over my shoulders, and she wrapped them around me. All the time, we were kissing — not hesitantly as at first, nor hungrily. This was more an extension of the sex — unrushed, with no end in sight but the next kiss, the next slow thrust.
I lost track of time. I couldn’t tell you if it was seven minutes, or a dozen, when she began to move her hips faster, harder. I picked up my own pace, going a little faster and harder than she had, but she soon matched and surpassed me again.
“Nhhhhhhhh …” softer this time, but slowly building in intensity. Then I realized that I was making the same sound, in rhythm with her, faster and faster.
I’ll admit it: I let go just a bit before she did, pushing deep into her and exploding. That was enough to send her over the top, and this time she cried out as she came.
When the waves subsided, I lay there inside her for a while, the two of us kissing without a word.
Eventually, I rolled onto my back and she lay with her head on my chest. I looked over at the clock. It was a little after seven. I’d gotten there around 4:30.
The story doesn’t end there, though. I didn’t leave her place for another fourteen hours.
We got dressed enough to order in Chinese delivery, ate it on her couch while watching television. Eventually, we ignored “CSI” because we were too busily engaged in me taking her from behind on the couch — more urgently than before, but our finish was more subdued. We fell asleep there for a while, then soaked together in her big tub before going to bed together.
I woke up once, around two, spooning her with my right arm draped over her tummy. I kissed her once on the shoulder. She stirred in her sleep, made a soft noise, and I drifted off until around six the next morning.
We made love in the big bed — slow, sleepy sex — then drifted back off for another hour. By then it was time for me to go, because I had an evening shift at work and I needed to get some things done before then. So we took one more bath together, I got dressed, and I kissed her goodbye.
Life never gave us any more time together — but it gave us those hours, with nowhere to hurry to until the next morning. In my world, that’s close on a sweet eternity.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/cbpw3e/unhurried_for_a_moment_true_story_xpost_from
she is cute