I was once dating a man who I had wonderful sexual chemistry with. He’d made me squirt and cum and squeal a ton throughout our relationship. We’re no longer together, but the following memories are definitely etched in my memory.
I couldn’t have him at my place as my husband was often home (I’m polyamorous) and the space was much too small. As a work around, we had to get a bit, well, creative.
Early on in our exhibitionist forays, we had gone to a cathedral close to my apartment. It was fairly well lit, but ultimately abandoned in the evening. It had started innocently enough. We found a dark corner in a kind of courtyard area, a bit of a walk inside the property so folks from the sidewalks wouldn’t see us immediately. We made out and laughed, clearly excited by the thrill of hiding. The kissing grew more passionate by the second. Fingers ran through hair, across and down backs. He went for my ears with his lips and I shuddered. He worked his way down my neck with gentle kisses while grabbing at my tits, and I returned the favor by fondling his cock through a thick layer of denim.