Post-coital insanity?! – Final part

“I’m scared,” is all Krazy Girl said.

“Scared of what?” I asked, as softly as I knew how.

“I’m scared of making another mistake. Scared of getting hurt again. Scared of you,” she said, plaintively.

“We’re all scared of getting hurt and making a mistake, but why are you scared of me?” I had to know.

“Because you seem so perfect and the last time I felt that way it ended in disaster.”

“Whoever that guy is you’re referring to, well, I’m not him.”

“I know, but I’m still scared.”

“Tell me about him. I assume it’s your ex-husband?”

“Yes, it was my husband. He’s tall, dark and handsome, just like you. It was a whirlwind, fairytale romance. He totally swept me off my feet and I thought that he was ‘The One’.”

I said nothing, having latched onto the fact that she was talking about him in the present tense. I realized then that she wasn’t over her ex-husband. Krazy Girl continued with her story.

“After a year of going out he proposed and a few months later we were married. Did you notice the church next to the pub where we first met? That’s where we got married. The pub was where we had our wedding reception.”

I was starting to cringe inside because unwittingly I had been walking in someone else’s footsteps, someone who had hurt her, someone bad. It must have been so bizarre for her to see me in that setting doused in memories and emotions for her. I said nothing, choosing to let her do the talking, having decided to only speak when I felt the need for some clarification.

“Our first year together was wonderful. We lived here in this flat, saving our money and deciding where we wanted to buy a house. We had set our hearts on the town where you live. But after that first year is when things started to go wrong. He is a senior executive in a world-famous company, earns lots of money, but he gets loads of freebies and away days from clients. He would go away for a day or two in the beginning, but by our second year he would disappear for a week at a time and I would never hear from him. If I phoned all I got was his voicemail and his secretary was brilliant at covering for him.”

“Oh dear” is all I could say, taking in the severity of what that must have felt like for her, but appreciating our moment of honesty. The significance of her having once longed to live in my town was not lost on me. Had she contacted me because I reminded her of her ex-husband and because of where I lived? Deep down did it seem to her like I was an opportunity to resurrect a shattered dream? There was more.

“Toward the end he had disappeared for a week and I finally found him in a hotel room in London, passed out in a bed with his best friend and two women. They were all naked. There was used condoms, cocaine and empty champagne bottles everywhere.”

“What did you do?”

“I just took photographs and walked out. I didn’t wake him. I went to my parents who convinced me to get a divorce. My father found a lawyer. A few weeks later I attempted suicide, but I failed at that too,” she said in an emotionless tone, her mind obviously convulsing in those memories.

Suddenly the bed felt very small to me. I thought about what was the best thing to say and came up with, “I’m sorry to hear that all that happened to you. If I ever see him, I’ll beat him up for you.” Lame, huh?

I was in a mild state of shock. The little I knew of her, of her gentle, innocent nature, I surmised that it must have been a massively disappointing trauma for her. Her trying to commit suicide didn’t sit well with me.

After taking a deep breath I said to her, “I can promise you here and now that I’ll never deliberately hurt you physically or emotionally.”

She liked the sound of that, making an approving sound while burying her face into my chest and a hand pulling tight against my ribcage. I looked to my left and made eye contact with the cat perched in the drawer, staring at us. What was she making of all this, I wondered.

Suddenly Krazy Girl pulled the duvet off us and started tugging at my underwear, expertly pulling them off. I didn’t say a word, a little surprised by this given the nature of the conversation we’d just had. I certainly wasn’t feeling frisky.

She quickly parted my legs, kneeled between them, leaned forward, putting a hand on the bed next to my hip and started kissing around my groin area. All I could think of in that moment was that I hadn’t showered since the previous night, but I was learning that she wasn’t afraid of dirty things. Did they hold some kind of compelling magnetism that she was drawn to?

Krazy Girl closed her eyes and started slowly, gently licking my flaccid cock and balls. The tenderness of her licks was such that it seemed loving. The tip of her little tongue would give a slow lick along the shaft of my growing cock, repeatedly, as if doing so was forcing it to grow. It was done in such a manner that it made me think of her cat licking an ice-cream on a hot Summer’s day. (In case you’re wondering, I keep myself clean-shaven down there. I feel more and know that it looks, smells and tastes better for a woman. Men: take note.)

It didn’t take long before my cock was rock hard, but my inner dialogue was still focussed on the revelations about her marriage. I wasn’t expecting any kind of sexual action that night. In fact I was prepared for an argument, drama, histrionics and my leaving sometime before midnight, probably never to see her again.

It was only when she took the head of my cock in her mouth, held it in place and then ran the tip of her tongue around the head while keeping her eyes closed that I focussed completely on what she was doing to me, for me.

Krazy Girl started moving her head up and down on my cock, slowly and deliberately, taking in more of the shaft with every movement, then moved her head from side to side to vary the sensation before increasing the speed at which she did this. All the time she kept her eyes closed and had a hint of a smile on her face; she looked incredibly sexy.

After a few minutes of this my butt-cheeks stiffened and my balls ached a little as the sperm sped out of my cock into her mouth. The previous weekend didn’t include oral orgasm for me, so was she now going to spit, hold or swallow my load of man juice?

The last drop went into her mouth, she pulled her head back, keeping her mouth closed as my cock slipped out of it. Krazy Girl opened her eyes and they were smiling at me. She made a show of swallowing what was in her mouth, raising her chin so that I could see her tiny Adam’s apple move as she swallowed. Then she dropped her head and opened her mouth to show me that it was all gone.

“Sorry, but that’s all you’re getting tonight. My period started today,” she said, speaking for the first time in what seemed liked hours.

“That’s not what I came her for,” I said, honestly.

Krazy Girl switched off the lamp on her side of the bed, snuggled up next to me for warmth or intimacy – I wasn’t sure which – and started to fall asleep. Through a gap in the threadbare curtains I could see flakes of snow drifting down on the world. Once again the weather was keeping in step with my romantic fortunes.

It was now well after midnight and I lay there for I don’t know how long, thinking about everything she had told me.

I had certainly got more than I had expected…

Post-coital insanity?!

Krazy Girl had told me of her plan for that Monday. She had to drive back to the countryside town where she had left her cat to get pregnant, then drive to her home in central London to drop off the cat and luggage before u-turning to her parent’s home near London to return her father’s car. Over the course of the weekend she had been sending false text messages to her parents about her whereabouts and plans. I wasn’t too impressed by the level of deceit that she was engaging in to keep her parents ignorant of her shenanigans, but seeing as I was the beneficiary, I really couldn’t say anything.

I knew that she was busy, so I only sent her one text message for that Monday, which ended in asking her to call me that night. I got no response. The next day I sent her another text message during the day, but again no response. That night I phoned her, but only got her voicemail. I left a message, but again got no response.

I was getting concerned that she might have had an accident, then remembered that Whatsapp shows when a person last logged on, so I checked that and it told me that she had been on it an hour previously. I felt relieved to know that she was okay, but then became perplexed and a little angry that she hadn’t answered me. I couldn’t understand why she was ignoring me. I was confused as all hell.

The Wednesday was a repeat of the previous day and I really didn’t like it. What was going on?! That night I noticed that one of my forks was missing from my cutlery set. (For months afterwards I was finding that several music cd’s were missing from their covers, as well as a few dvd discs.)

By the Thursday I was totally befuddled by her behaviour. We had had such a good time and got along really well, hardly a hint of any kind of mismatch or showstoppers between us. Had I said or done something wrong? Was it the thumb up the arse that she really didn’t like? I spoke to a couple of older women in my office about this situation (not mentioning our sexual antics, of course) because I was desperate to have some kind of inkling about what was going on. I wanted an insight into the female psyche that I was obviously lacking.

“Oh, it’s quite simple,” they both said, “she’s crazy.”

Maybe they were right and Krazy Girl was exactly that: crazy. However, I refused to accept that that was the case and still wanted to see her because I felt that we had a future together. I could see us living together and quite happily too. I could see us always holding hands as we walked through lush, green meadows bathed by the setting sun. On cold Winter nights I’d keep her warm and laugh at her cold feet against my shins. She loved to cook and I love to eat, obviously a match made in gastronomic heaven. I felt like she fitted me like my favourite glove, not just physically but emotionally too. Yes, there was ten year age-gap between us, but so what; it wasn’t an issue unless one of us made it so.

Whatsapp told me that Krazy Girl was active on it across the course of the day. I didn’t contact her at all on the Thursday, preferring to try and play it cool, despite being in turmoil inside. By the Friday night I couldn’t take it any more, so I phoned her and to my surprise she actually bothered to answer this time.

“Hi. How are you?” I began.

“I’m fine thanks. How about you?”

“Quite honestly, I’m a little confused by why I haven’t heard from you this week.” I went straight to the heart of the matter; why waste time?

“Oh, I’ve just been busy, that’s all,” Krazy Girl said nonchalantly.

Busy?! Busy on Whatsapp, that’s for sure, I bellowed inside me but left it there. I knew from her neutral words and tone that she was being defensive, but her answering my call told me that it wasn’t over. I decided to proceed with caution, like a hunter stalking a very alert and fast-moving prey.

Round and round we went, making endless small talk, like two heavyweight boxers in a ring during a title fight, being careful not to take a heavy blow and being alert to any opportunity to land the knockout blow. My winning blow would be getting to be with her, be by her side so that I could look her in the eye when we spoke. I was convinced that achieving that would make it all better for both of us, whatever “it” was.

Eventually something inside her gave way and Krazy Girl said, “I so badly want you lying next me right now.”

My opportunity had arrived and I went for it with, “That’s easily arranged. All I need is a postcode and I’ll be there in an hour.”

Krazy Girl thought about it for a second and then uttered the sounds that was her postcode. Nobody packs a bag quicker than a man expecting a surprise dirty weekend. I thought I had lost her and that feeling hurt seeing as I was coming off the tremendous high of the Monday morning.

It was March and the last Winter storm was raging in fury overhead, unleashing icy sheets of angry rain across the roads as I broke the speed limit all the way to Krazy Girl’s place. My satnav said it would take 90 minutes plus the very bad weather, so normally it would have taken two hours – I did it in one hour.

I parked outside what looked like a very forbidding, monstrous apartment block in central London. I texted Krazy Girl that I had arrived and she came to get me. Her arms were folded against the cold and violent rain, so I just gave her polite kiss on the cheek to say hello. What I really wanted to do was wrap my arms around her, pick her up and squeeze her, but that just had to wait until after I had solved the mystery of her behaviour.

It was now 10pm on a stormy Friday night as Krazy Girl led me to her home. I was disgusted at the state of the communal area once we were inside the block. The most obvious thing was the heavy stench of marijuana that filled the air, seemingly emanating from every second door in the corridors as we climbed two flights of stairs. The walls were filthy with all sorts of marks on them, including one that I was convinced was of someone having smeared shit on it. The sticky floors had not been washed in a long time.

Krazy Girl’s apartment wasn’t much better. The first thing that hit me was the smell of the cat’s litter that was stronger than the smell of the dope outside. Her furnishings were basic and old, everything seemed tatty and well past its prime. I was shocked.

“My flatmate’s not in tonight, so we have the place to ourselves,” she said.

Flatmate?! It just gets better. You, me and the cat, huh? Never mind, that’s not what’s important right now, I thought to myself. I just had to get to the bottom of what the hell has been going on in her head.

“Can we just cuddle in my bed? It’s warmer there,” Krazy Girl asked. Of course I agreed, wanting to feel her touch as much as get away from the smell of the cat litter in the kitchen where one of the doors was nearly falling off of its hinge.

Her bedroom was occupied by a double-bed close to the door and the rest of the room was a mound of cardboard boxes, some of them open, displaying their contents which were mostly books. Cables dangled across the boxes to a laptop that rested on a box. Next to the bed, along the wall, was an old pine chest of drawers with the top drawer halfway out. In it was her prize cat, perched on underwear, glaring at the intruder that was me. A dusty lamp by the bedside provided meagre light. I was not impressed by her living arrangements; ‘shocked’ is the best word that comes to mind.

It was surreal to me as we got undressed, both of us keeping our underwear on, like we were a long-married old couple and then got into bed. I wrapped myself around her cold body and she made approving sounds as she nestled her head under my chin. In that moment the world felt like it had re-assembled itself for me and had returned to its state that I knew on the Monday morning which now felt like an eternity ago.

After making small talk that inevitably involved her asking my opinion of her home which tested my tact, I decided it was time to get to the crux of the matter.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls this week? What’s going on?” I asked.

Krazy Girl sighed, anxiously sank some fingernails into my chest and she started thinking.

To be continued…

Love walked in

Krazy Girl and I enjoyed each other’s bodies for several hours more. I made her cum by simultaneously fingering her g-spot and licking her clit which, by the way, was tiny. I know my way around a woman’s body and never before had I struggled to find that little guy. Hers was definitely under-developed.

In a moment of tactless honesty I said to her, “Jeez, you really have a small clit,” not expecting much of a response. Hardly were my words cold when I realized that they might cause offence, but instead she came back with, “Yeah, I know. It’s because I’ve done so much cycling.”

We eventually got around to the dinner I had prepared as part of my redundant ‘plan’ for the night. We were both still frisky and got to watching ‘Basic Instinct’, but we didn’t even get halfway through it before we were fucking on my sofa again. We just couldn’t get enough of each other. She certainly was a very enthusiastic lover, very eager to please and had my pleasure as her highest priority. I was in heaven on earth.

Eventually she fell asleep in my arms in the small hours of the morning after I had carried her to my bed and made her cum again. As long as I live I shall never find the words to describe how good I felt that night. I was on such a natural high and life felt perfect. I couldn’t believe my luck in having this amazing little woman appear in my life out of nowhere. Thank you OKCupid.

On the Sunday morning I woke up first and just lay next to Krazy Girl, taking in the spectacle that was her. I had never seen such a physically perfect woman before. I was still dizzy from this new reality when her eyes opened and met mine. Words weren’t necessary.

Within about a minute we were at it, doggy-style without having said a word to each other. She starting bunching her hair up and then said, “Pull my hair.” As first words to hear in the morning, this was novel, but I’m always eager to please, so I did as she asked. I grabbed the bushel of hair and gently pulled back, raising her chin.

Then Krazy Girl did something most unexpected. I watched her put a middle finger in her mouth, suck on it and then reach back to her arse and started rubbing this finger around her little arsehole before slowly forcing the finger in, as deep as it could go.

I couldn’t believe that this girl was fingering her own arsehole. I’d never seen a woman do this before, not even in a porn movie.

My body ran on auto-pilot for several seconds as I took in the scene before me. Here was the most physically perfect woman I’d ever had the privilege of being intimate with, on her knees and one hand on my headboard, her e-cup breasts swaying all over the place, my cock buried deep in her pussy, me pulling her hair because she asked me to…and she was fingering her own arse?!

As I sit here typing this, with my eyes wide open, I can still see that scene today…and I’m getting a chubby.

A team of wild horses yearning to break free of their bonds tied to me could never have pulled my cock out of that vagina. The novelty and naughtiness of this became too much and my balls tweaked tight as my man milk sprinted for the exit. I came so hard that I got a headache; it must have been from my brain rattling against my skull.

Recovering, I looked down and saw that her pussy had clamped tight around my slippery cock…and she was still pulling and pushing her finger in her arse.

Pulling my cock out her was accompanied by a little ‘pop’ sound that I found cute, but what was truly hot was seeing her pull her finger out of her arse and lying on her side, smiling at me. I felt a mixture of surprise, disgust, curiosity and flattery (because she felt comfortable enough to do this with me) but said nothing, choosing instead to pretend like this was dead normal for me.

There’s no other way to say this…we spent most of that Sunday in my bed fucking…and it was great. We’d take a breather, make some small talk, perhaps have something to eat or drink, talk ourselves into a frenzy and make the beast with two backs…wait, that’s not correct…we re-enacted pretty much every position in the karma sutra.

By that Sunday night my cock was getting sore and I suspect so was her pussy. We agreed on one more fuck and went for it one last time for the weekend. Krazy Girl liked having her hair pulled when doing it doggy-style for a while, but this time I surprised her. With her hair firmly in my grasp, I put my thumb in my mouth, made it as wet as can be, then put it down between her butt-cheeks, all the while fucking her with my now hurting cock.

My thumb found her little arsehole and started to rub in circles around it. She liked it, giving off an approving little grunt. I pulled her bunch of hair as far back as I could and then slowly forced my thumb into her arse, all the time watching for any grimace or facial expression that showed pain or discomfort. There was none as I slowly pushed my thumb ever deeper up her arse, but I did notice that her breathing quickened. Then she huskily said, “naughty,” but didn’t do or say anything else, so I carried on.

Like that I fucked her; her hair pulled hard, my cock deep in her pussy and my thumb as far up her arse as it could go…and she loved it. I felt her body starting to twitch just before she came with what was her biggest orgasm of the weekend. Her body shook but couldn’t move much under the grip I had her in; it probably heightened the experience for her, feeling constrained, being violated and manhandled like that. All she could let out was a deep, throaty “Hnnnn…” as she came.

I let go of her hair and she let her head drop down, gasping for breath and I think I saw a drop of saliva fall from her mouth onto the cushion beneath her. I wasn’t done with her though; well, my cock wasn’t. As I took my time to reach my own orgasm, Krazy Girl remained perfectly still, my thumb still buried in her arse, submissively letting me do as I pleased. Somehow I managed to cum again; I had lost count of how many times I did that weekend, but I’m sure it was a record.

I pulled my digit and penis out of her holes and Krazy Girl collapsed into a heap on the bedsheets covered in and reeking of our body fluids. I fell down next to her and cuddled her, smelly thumb be damned. She was still breathing heavily, almost panting as we lay there speechless, but satisfied. Like that we fell asleep.

My alarm woke us the next morning; it was another Monday, but unlike any I had ever known. I opened my eyes first and took another good look at this fabulously sexual, stunningly attractive woman who was lying next to me. Finally I was experiencing what I had been craving.

“Good morning,” I said with an automatic smile. It was automatic because I just couldn’t help smiling, such was my elation.

“Hello,” she said softly, smiling with her eyes as she clutched the duvet to her chest.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, but I have to shower and go to work. Would you like me to make you breakfast?”

“No, but thank you. Can I lie-in for a while then leave later after you?”

“Yeah, sure I’ll leave you my door key, but can you please leave it under my doormat when you leave?”

“Okay,” is all she said.

I left my home that morning walking on several feet of invisible cloud; I was on an incredible high. I smiled all day and people at work made their caustic comments, but I couldn’t care less. I felt that I had finally found the perfect woman for me.

I sat in a daze for most of the day, recalling details of the previous two days. During a break from our sex Olympics, I had asked Krazy Girl, “What’s your favourite song?”

“It’s ‘Love Walked In’ by Thunder. It popped into my mind the moment I saw you for the first time last Saturday night.”

“Can’t say I know it, but I’ll check it out.”

Here it is. These words were written for how I felt on that Monday…and it had meaning to her too…

Thunder – Love Walked In

Krazy Girl gets…crazy?!

Krazy Girl arrived complaining of a stiff back and legs from the long drive. We went for a walk so that she could loosen up. I was all in favour of this, thinking she’d be needing it for later. After a stroll of 30 minutes around my town, making polite small-talk, we ended up back at mine. Before I knew it we were kissing. Within seconds she pushed me on to the sofa, kneeled before me and started rubbing my crotch. I was stunned; I’d never been in such a situation before. I had always taken the lead when getting intimate with a woman. How far was she willing to go? Surely not all the way? I never said a word as she looked deep into my eyes, her face stern with intent and eyes smiling mischievously.

My manhood reacted as it would at the hands of such attention. She never looked down as she unzipped and unbuckled my jeans, her gaze fixed on me. I kept a straight face, trying to match her intensity, a look of daring in my eyes I hoped. We said nothing. She pulled my swollen cock out of my clothing, briefly looking down at it as she worked it up and down with both her hands. I slouched in my sofa as this vixen before me maintained eye contact, licked her lips, blinked a few times…pulled my foreskin back…and then eagerly swooped down on my cock with her mouth.

She sucked on it eagerly and ferociously…a mixture of up down head movement at various speeds, then twisting and turning her head…never once letting my cock out of her mouth.

It was swelling and growing all the time. She knew exactly what she was doing and she did it well.

I never said a word as she expertly varied her technique….

Licking up and down my shaft…stopping to kiss my aching balls that were still partially squashed in my underwear…then slowly licking them…all the while maintaining eye contact.

She stopped and pulled my jeans and undies off with incredible ease…she’d done this many times before.

She kept her clothes on, but it didn’t matter. I was thinking that this was just foreplay and she’d stop at any second. I spread my legs, in my mind daring her to continue…to her there was no dare involved.

She made sure to lick all over my balls, occasionally kissing them…before stopping for a few seconds to look me in the eye…

…and slowly suck one of my balls in to her wet, warm mouth…

There was a little discomfort in my testicle that she swallowed…she knew this…gave me a sly smile with her eyes…and slowly released it…

Krazy Girl moved over to my other one, sucked that one in more quickly…I gasped from the sudden mixture of pleasure and pain…

I could feel her roll her tongue around my ball while she held it in her mouth…

She released it by almost spitting it out…and then vigorously deep-throated my shaft and head to the back of her mouth…and rocked her head back and forth many times as quickly as she could…which made for a mesmerising sight.

She was an expert cock-sucker…and she loved it! She made approving sounds as she did her thing…or my thing.

She jerked her head back; my rock-hard cock flopped out of her mouth, dangling like a crane in the wind, not knowing what to do with itself…

But she did…she knew exactly what she wanted to do…she had been fantasizing about this on her maniacal high-speed drive over to me…

She stood up and in one quick movement fiddled wit her skirt and straddled me…it was so quick that I didn’t have time to react.

This wasn’t part of my plan! I’m very much an alpha male, being in charge at all times. This was a very new and unusual situation for me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying it.

She put her hands on my shoulders and started rubbing and grinding her crotch against my fully erect cock…she kept eye contact at all times…we never spoke.

I had my hands on her hips and I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume through her floral blouse and frumpy beige cardigan.

She bit the corner of her mouth, reached down behind herself, fussed with her black skirt and pulled her g-string sideways.

Was she going to do what I…

Yes, she did…

She had pulled her stringy knickers aside and slid herself on to my cock.

I was aghast as I had planned to use a condom, but this little tigress was too quick for me.

Oh…MY…GAWD…She felt exquisitely perfect as she covered the tip of my throbbing cock with her pussy.

Krazy Girl’s pussy was very wet, wonderfully tight and ever so-pleasingly warm. We both held our breath.

She kept looking in to my eyes, unblinking, still biting her lip in a naughty-girl-caught-masturbating kind of way…

She finally made a sound, by gasping and then starting a slow moan, almost against her wishes it seemed, as she forced herself down onto my rock-hard cock.

Her eyes were lighting up as she went further down, obviously enjoying the length of me. She was a little on the small and tight side, but she felt wonderful.

She forced herself down as far as she could go; I was obviously filling her up, given the sounds that she was involuntarily making…

She rolled her head back, her hands gripping my shoulders and started gyrating on me, something that surprised me, but nevertheless pleased me.

Then she put her hands behind my neck and began riding me like her life depended on it.

Suddenly she stopped, half stood up, trying to keep my cock in her waterfall-like pussy, and pulled me up by the neck.

I’m 6 foot 2 inches tall and 220 pounds, but this little woman had no problem manhandling me, such was the adrenaline flowing through her body. In the process we un-copulated.

She pulled me on to the rug next to the sofa and said “Take me on the floor…”

I quickly pulled my top off and frenetically undressed her as she lay before me…clothes flying everywhere…

I spotted a small tattoo above her hip bone. It was of a panther the size of my thumb. I don’t like tattoos, but I wasn’t going to quibble…

Her head was laid back on my floor, golden blonde hair spread out like a peacock’s tail feathers, her eyes ablaze with passion and anticipation…

The moment that I had been waiting for had unexpectedly arrived…I was going to get to see, feel and play with her breasts that I had secretly been stealing glances at in out first few dates.

I pushed her top up and they popped out…and I knew then and there that there is a God after all, because her breasts were absolutely perfect!

They were all-natural, wonderfully round, smooth, fleshy, inviting and large. Her nipples were erect and a rosy pink colour…

I somehow resisted the urge that all men in the same situation would have done – I didn’t suck her breasts.

Instead I parted her legs and slowly slid my already wet cock in to her awaiting pussy…and it felt even better than before.

Missionary position has its detractors, but I’m not one of them. I love the look on a woman’s face when she feels how big I am for the first time…as her mouth falls open and she gasps for breath, a mixed look of pleasure and fear in her eyes.

I know I should have stood up and found a condom…but a steam train was not going to stop what thousands of years of evolution had designed me to do…to fuck!

I felt her wrap her legs around my back. Oh, how I love that feeling. That act of complete desire, lust, acceptance, yearning and submission all rolled in to one.

I started to slowly but forcefully slide my cock in and out of her…I noticed that her breathing was now in time with my every thrust.

Her pussy felt like it was made for me.

Then her body started quivering. I thought she was approaching an orgasm. I looked down.

She was crying.

Sweet little tears were sliding out of her eyes, going in every direction that gravity wanted.

I stopped, mortified that I was hurting her; worried that somehow I had accidentally slipped in to the wrong hole.

“What’s the matter?” I obviously had to ask, breaking the intense silence.

She looked at me, reluctant to answer. Indecision had replaced lust in her eyes.

For a fleeting moment I realised all the danger that I was in. Here I was, balls deep in to a girl I had only met a week earlier. No protection involved.

Shit, what was she about to tell me? Had I now just joined the AIDS club? God, no!

“I was afraid that you’d be small” is what she blurted out.

“What the hell are you talking about” I instantly retorted.

“Everything with you has been perfect so far. Everything. I can’t find anything wrong with you. I had convinced myself that you must have a small dick.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

She continued “Now I feel like such a fool for having told myself that. You’re the biggest I’ve ever had.” She sobbed, foolishly.

“Well, surprise!” I said with a smile to which she smiled too. I didn’t want to stop to think about the insanity of what she had just said; I wanted to finish what we had started, just as Mother Nature had intended.

I slid my cock back into her pussy and we fucked for what felt like a blissful eternity on my lounge floor. We were both getting carpet burns, but we didn’t care, such was the intensity and enjoyment of our first time.

I didn’t want to cum in her, so I somehow controlled my natural instinct and pulled out when I sensed that I was about to cum.

“Push your tits together,” I instructed. She instantly complied as I straddled her ribs.

I gave my cock a few tugs and my baby batter started spurting out, spraying drop by drop across her perfect breasts. She looked down at my cum all the while as it collected on her bosom. Her facial expression was one of strange curiosity.

My last drop plopped into the little puddle that was forming in her cleavage. She let go of her breasts and with an index finger collected a dollop of cum which she looked at intently, then put that finger in her mouth and sucked it clean, closing her eyes as she did so…

 

 

Krazy Girl – The second and the mini-date

We met the next day for another date and I fetched Krazy Girl at her parents home where she was staying for the weekend. She asked me to park around the corner, out of sight, something I thought odd but complied with nevertheless. She suggested that we drive to an upmarket pub in an adjoining town for Sunday lunch, passing several equally good pubs along the way. We were getting along very well as conversation flowed effortlessly and fruitfully; we were enjoying each other’s company. As we were driving away from the pub she gave me a funny look.

What’s that look about?” I asked.

Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied.

Don’t lie to me. Out with it,” I coaxed.

Have you ever had a feeling that you know you’re going to be with somebody for a long time?”

Good grief, I wasn’t expecting that, but hearing it pleased me.

Yes. It’s a good feeling isn’t it,” was the clever answer I gave her with a smile. My ex-girlfriend came to mind; after our first date all those years ago that was how I had felt about her. Fool. I wasn’t feeling that way about the little hottie sitting next to me, well, not just yet.

Krazy Girl and I walked around her neighbourhood and we had a pleasant long chat sitting on a bench next to a canal. As we got to know more about each other, the more I liked her. She was charming, good-natured, sweet and innocent…and couldn’t get enough of kissing me. I also found her incredibly attractive and was relishing the prospect of making love to her, but knew that I had to bide my time. She seemed like a good girl and not the type to jump into bed quickly.

The second date ended with us sitting in my car near her parent’s home. We started kissing again and she got really turned on; her kisses and sounds became increasingly passionate. Suddenly Krazy Girl got very aggressive and put her hand between my legs as we were kissing. Her aim was badly off and she couldn’t find my cock. Inside I was laughing but she got a little upset and said, “Where is he? You don’t have a small one do you?” There was hint of concern in her tone of voice.

If only she knew the truth, I thought to myself, continuing to laugh to myself.

No, he’s just sleeping,” is what I said to placate her.

I think we should call it a night. It’s getting dark and your parents are probably getting worried,” I said, wanting to end the date before things went too far too quickly. We could quite easily have ended up having sex in my car; the windows were steamed up from our kissing as it was. But I didn’t want that; I wanted to start this relationship as sanely as possible, despite my wanting to rip her clothes off and fuck her senseless.

Oh, don’t worry about that. My parents think I’m at a friend’s place,” she answered.

Hmm, her being willing and able to mislead her parents didn’t sit well with me at all. (In hindsight that was red flag number one.)

Krazy Girl was going away to family in south-west England for the next week, to stay with a cousin who had recently given birth to second child and needed help with the first child. So it came as a great surprise when the next morning when I was at work Krazy Girl sent me a text message saying that she hadn’t started her trip and wanted to see me again that night after work. At the agreed time I arrived at the same pub where we had first met and it turned out was only a block from her parents home.

After the initial courteous pleasantries she said, “I didn’t leave today because I wanted to see you again…and I wanted to talk to you about a few things.”

This sounded serious, so all I said was, “Riiight….”

I lost my job on Friday. They made me redundant. It’s another reason I’m going to my cousin’s, to get over the shock of it and to come up with a plan about what to do next.”

Okay. I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure something will come along for you,” I said, trying to show my supportive nature. We were sitting side by side on a bench and she put her hand on top of mine and squeezed it.

The other thing is that my failed marriage has really knocked my confidence with men. I’m a little scared of getting into a relationship too quickly,” she confided, still keeping her hand on top of mine.

My initial emotional response was one of feeling sorry for her, but my logical brain kicked and began wondering if she was trying to brush me off. I decided to respond as positively and compassionately as possible.

I can understand that. I felt the same way after my divorce. I’m in no hurry now either,” is what I came out with.

Good, I’m glad you understand,” Krazy Girl said with a smile. A very mysterious smile. 

Seeing as we were having a moment of honesty I seized the opportunity to discuss something serious too that had been on my mind.

I have to ask you about something. What are your feelings about children?” She was after all ten years younger than me and with time she might change her mind.

I had an infection on my ovaries when I was a teenager and the doctors said it was unlikely that I could have kids. I always thought that if I got broody I could always adopt,” was her frank reply, which suited me.

We shared a few more drinks and made small talk about the family that she was going to be staying with for the week. She told me that she had borrowed her father’s car for the trip and that she had a female rag-doll cat that she was going to drop off en route at another rag-doll owner’s place for the week to see if her cat could get pregnant. Krazy Girl was planning to return the following Monday, so we agreed to keep in touch by phone during the week.

Did she keep in touch? Every couple of hours the next day she phoned me when she stopped for petrol or food. I’d grab my phone and go to find a quiet corner to talk to her. Her level of interest and attention was unprecedented. I had assigned an unique ring-tone to her number on my phone and by the end of the day my colleagues were making funny remarks about that ring-tone, such was her idea of “keeping in touch”.

We spoke at night during the week and it became evident that Krazy Girl was not enjoying the stay at her cousin’s. It also became evident to me that I wanted her in every way possible, such was the intensity of my feelings for her. I could see myself being with her the rest of my life; she ticked all my boxes. (My lengthy list of tickboxes can be seen at: http://www.meanddating.com/2014/05/who-am-i-looking-for/ )

By the Friday night I felt like a bear trapped in a cage; all I wanted was Krazy Girl. That night there was an electrical storm where she was and the phone signal was poor but text messages were getting through. For some reason (okay, I was horny as all hell) I turned our late-night text conversation naughty. I started off subtly and then gradually escalated it, peppering her with increasingly risqué text messages until she wrote back, “Okay, that does it. I’m coming to you tomorrow. I’ll arrive just after lunchtime.”

My text message that got that response?

I’m looking forward to discovering what gets your blood flowing, what you love, how you’re going to react to the things that I can do to you and for you…the sounds you make, how you smell…I’m especially dying to know how you taste…I reckon you taste sweeter than you realize…”

That final message of mine left very little to her imagination. The effect it had was that the next day she drove at 100mph for 4 hours to get to me, abandoning the holiday with relatives. I had a roast lamb dinner ready for her arrival. I had planned to play it cool and smooth with her. A little clever conversation, some smiling and sly looks, suitable mood music and low lighting, the occasional loving touch with a lingering glance. I would break her fortress-like defences with a well-chosen bottle of wine. When the time was right I would make my move and, hopefully, let pleasure commence. 

What transpired was very different…

 

 

Date #13 – The Krazy Girl who was too good to be true

I awoke on the Thursday morning after have bade farewell to Sweet Thing the previous night. Dumping her was one of the most difficult things I’ve done in my life. Divine Intervention decreed that I be rewarded with an email from one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen on a computer screen. One of the profiles I had clicked on the previous night had written to me.

What a difference a sleep makes. I fell asleep feeling shitty for having broken somebody’s heart, but that was quickly forgotten by the prospect of a date with a total hottie…who was 31 – ten years younger than me! Could Life be so kind and cruel at the same time?

I answered her email and by the Friday night we had agreed to meet for a date on the Saturday night. We met in a pub in her town and she had arrived first, was standing against a wall thumbing her phone and looking down. She must have felt my gaze because she looked up as I approached her. I think I may have broken my stride as our eyes met – she was beautiful. Perfectly proportioned pretty face, sparkly blue eyes, long natural golden blonde hair – just my type! From first setting eyes on each other we fancied each other and we both knew it. 

Her lips parted slightly and her eyes widened fleetingly. That’s the look women can’t help make when they meet a man they fancy. Thousands of years of evolution has not removed that reaction from the female species when they see a male they like the look of approaching them. Most men would miss that look because it is so quick, but I know about it and look out for it.

She was shorter than I expected, so The Model had the edge as the most attractive woman I had ever spoken to, let alone dated. However, the stunning little lady before me this night was a very worthy runner-up…and we hadn’t even said a word.

I greeted her with a polite kiss on the cheek and offered to buy her a drink. We made small talk until our drinks arrived, upon which she grabbed them both and marched off to an empty table she had spotted. She certainly was a confident little thing, or so it seemed.

I must have had a bemused look on my face as I followed her because I remember seeing three young ladies sitting on a bench look at me as we walked past them.

I see on your profile that you’re divorced,” my date said to me as we sat down.

Yes, I have that badge of honour,” I answered, wondering if it was a problem to her.

Good, we’ve at least got that in common,” was her response.

When did you get divorced?” I asked, entirely out of curiosity whilst being fully aware that I needed to swiftly move the conversation on to something far more positive.

Two years ago,” she said.

I found this choice of topic surprising, but thought nothing of it. Little did I know how large a part it would play in the future.

After a while the pub became very noisy and we were struggling to hear each other. She suggested we find a quieter spot in the beer garden where they laid on blankets to ward off the cold. She seemed to know this pub well; did she meet all her dates here?

Our first date went very well and at the end of it we were kissing like teenagers in that beer garden. She had the softest lips and we kissed well together. So well, that at one stage I though she was going to pass out. I’d never had that effect on a woman before and she liked it.

When I got home she had sent me a text message that read:

Thank you for lovely evening of intrigue and excitement. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

I responded with a tame, “I’m free tomorrow. Any chance?” not expecting a response as it was after one in the morning. Almost instantly she replied.

I can smell you all over my arms! For some reason you have got me all fired up!!! Your kiss, your hands, your look, I didn’t want tonight to end.”

Me: “What do you feel like doing now if I was with you?”

Her:”Are you glad we met?”

Me:”Very :)

Her:”I don’t want to come on too strong that I scare you away but I really do quite fancy you!”

Me:”I feel the same about you.”

Her:”I want to jump leaps and hurdles with you, so to speak. I feel very comfortable with you!”

Me:”I feel the same way. What a pleasant surprise you are turning out to be. :) Text me later for when you want to meet again. Night night Xxx”

Never in my life had someone behaved anything like that towards me, especially not on a first date. She was absolutely crazy about me. I decided to call her Krazy Girl. I had no idea how apt that nickname was going to be.

 

Let’s move in together! Yay! Aka “Goodbye Sweet Thing”

My “Big Weekend” plan had backfired on me. After the previous weekend of running around London together, Sweet Thing and I had bonded a little closer…too close and in the wrong direction for my liking.

On our regular evening phonecall at 8pm (omg, she liked her routine) on the Monday night, she suggested that we make some plans to go away together to a seaside resort town in the south-west of England. I appreciated the idea that seemed to come with a hint of commitment, but my gut response was a negative one. I was non-committal; I was starting to doubt that we had a long-term future together.

The next night, after some small talk about our predictable working days, Sweet Thing said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about something. How about we move in together? You can come live with me and I’ll clear out the conservatory and that can be your office. You can build your website business. We can both work from home, me upstairs, you downstairs. What do you think?”

I could feel all the blood drain from my upper body and sink down to my feet and ankles. I was shocked at her idea. Bloody hell, her previous boyfriend’s stuff was still in her garage – he hadn’t fully moved out yet! Also, we had only met little more than six weeks ago!

“Uh, I think it’s a little too soon for that,” was the best I could stammer.

“Well, you think about it and let me know when you’re ready,” she said.

Think about it is exactly what I did until the small hours of that night. I lay in my bed, electrified by her idea. I found it outrageous and even slightly disturbing. Yes, it was flattering that Sweet Thing felt that way about me; the speed of that was breath-taking. However, it was becoming clear to me just how badly on the rebound she was. She hadn’t taken any time out for herself after her last relationship had ended. She had told me that the weekend after her previous boyfriend of five years had moved out was when she opened her match.com account. Two months later I wrote to her, one of the few messages she had received, I suspect largely because of where she was located.

The thing that bothered me most was her being on the rebound. I didn’t want to be her rebound fling, who also happened to move in. If she was emotionally healthy, we had been seeing each other for at least a year, I was head-over-heels in love with her, then maybe I would have considered moving in with her. The reality was that she wasn’t emotionally healthy and when she returned to her normal self, the nature of our relationship would change and that in itself was far too risky. The fact that she lived in Nowheresville and we hadn’t even known each other two months could not be ignored even if she wasn’t on the rebound. Now add on top of that the fact that I was already bored in the relationship and her idea was a non-starter.

I resolved to not act rashly and take the time to assess the situation. Yes, I liked being with her and we laughed a lot and liked the same movies, but there were negative factors that weighed heavily. The balancing scale that was our relationship had not yet found a resting place; an equilibrium wasn’t established. The positive weight on one side of the scale held the ascendency for a little while until it became too heavy and the negative weight shot up on the other side, and so it went, week after week.

As usual, she found a reason for me to come up to her house to spend the weekend there. It was a ground-hog weekend. Pancakes for breakfast, walk the dog, watch something on television, have lunch, watch sport on the television for the afternoon, walk the dog, have dinner, watch a movie, end with McDonalds sex. Two days in a row. B-O-R-I-N-G. She really wasn’t open to trying new things; she craved the security that came with routine.

I left her place on the Monday morning (after pancake breakfast) knowing that, despite my best efforts, it just wasn’t going to work out between us. The scales had found a resting place and the negative weight was heavier. I felt deflated.

I spent the next two nights and three days wracking my brain until I had come up with the words that I felt were necessary to end it between us, but to do so as gently and respectfully as I knew how.

On the Wednesday night I did what had to be done.

I could just see her lying on her bed in the dark, anxiously clutching a pillow to her belly, tears dripping from her watery blue eyes. She would let out a wail and sob before burying her face in a pillow…and all because of me.

The thought of that call still gives me a lump in my throat. She’s a fantastic person and deserves to be happy. Our relationship style just wasn’t working for me…and I wanted to have more fun than what was on offer.

Phoning her to say ‘goodbye’ was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life, because I know how much it would have hurt her. She didn’t deserve the pain that I forced on her. However, I deserved to be with someone that I felt so much more for, someone who lifted my spirits.

Factors that were a problem: she was on the rebound; she had bad teeth – kissing and bj’s made me cringe; sex was boring and predictable; her dog limited our ability to go anywhere; she lived in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do; all we seemed to want to do was sit and watch tv; driving to and from her was a pain; she could only focus on one thing at a time and I had to stop talking if he was doing something; her parents were unhappily married and it was a regular topic of discussion that became a burden; after 6 weeks she suggested that we live together. She loved routine: ate pancakes for breakfast every day; walked her doggy in the mornings and at night every day at the same time; watched the same tv shows week in and week out.

In a nutshell: she was on the rebound and too boring for me.

Lessons learned: 1) Be wary of profile photos without a smile 2) Ascertain as quickly as possible when her last relationship ended 3) Find out about after-work routine.

That Wednesday night, after the break-up call, a touch of frustration and disappointment met a sense of idle curiosity within me that lead me to log on to OKCupid to see who was out there. I clicked on just a few new profiles in a minute and then gave up, disillusioned and filled with a sense of defeat. Little could I know what those few clicks would result in…

 

The Big Weekend in London

I remembered that Sweet Thing liked the “Strictly Come Dancing” television show (hell, I had to sit and watch it with her enough times) when an email came around at work for tickets to the live show at the old Millennium Dome in London. I didn’t think twice and bought the tickets which came to almost £150 for the VIP package for the upcoming Sunday. I bought tickets to a travel show that was being held at Earl’s Court on the coming Saturday. I also bought a Groupon for a dinner and cabaret show in Knightbridge for that Saturday night. I booked us into a 4-star hotel halfway between the two venues for Saturday.

I was going to show her what my idea of fun was. I also wanted her to know that I am very comfortable with taking the lead. I didn’t want to impress her, just show her what I was capable of; the standard to which I can operate; that I am nobody’s dog-sitter.

During one of our evening phonecalls I let her know that I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about our lovemaking. I told her that a variety of positions is not a bad thing and that I would greatly appreciate more creativity to our intimacy. I did this as diplomatically as possible and, to my relief, she took it in good grace.

You may be wondering how I felt about Sweet Thing. Well, it’s complicated. I liked being with her as she was always good-natured, had a cheeky sense of humour and had a sweetness about her that charmed me. I could trust her. Trust is a very important thing for me, all brought about my experience with my ex-girlfriend – that’s a blog entry for another time.

However, on the minus side of the equation, when Sweet Thing smiled my heart sank. How do you say to someone “Don’t you think you should get your teeth fixed?” She would periodically talk about her ex-boyfriend and in anguished, angry tones. It didn’t help that he would leave her home shortly before my arrival on a Friday night. One of her favourite topics of conversation was her parent’s unhappy marriage and it quickly became tedious. I have to mention the boring McDonalds sex.

Overall, the picture was mixed and so were my feelings. Giving “us” time was not yielding quick benefits. I was struggling to decide how much time to give this relationship to blossom into what I was expecting.

As usual I arrived at Sweet Thing’s house on the Friday night, which ended in…McDonalds sex. The next morning we took doggy to the kennel for his overnight stay. As a handler led him away, he turned and looked at me. I could just see him thinking as his eyebrows duelled, “Well this sucks. I get to spend the night in this cold, concrete prison with noisy neighbours and you get to do whatever, wherever with her. There’s no justice in the world.”

We got in my red sports car and sped off to London. After checking in at the hotel we walked to the Earl’s Court exhibition centre where we spent the afternoon inspecting exhibits, attending talks and walking around the colourful stands of the tourist boards and tour operators from around the world. Sweet Thing was very taken by the whole experience. Score one point.

She was particularly interested in a camper-van that we inspected. As we got out of it she said, “Do you think we could drive in one of those down Route 66?” I said nothing and just smiled. In my heart I knew that a lot had to happen between us before that dream of hers became a reality.

Back at the hotel room Sweet Thing surprised me. She started kissing me passionately and then said, “You want something different? How about this?”

She strode over to the bed, turned her back to me, started unbuckling her jeans, looked over her shoulder at me with a naughty look in her eyes and climbed onto the bed with her knees. She pushed her jeans and panties down and fell forward, her hands submissively positioned next to her head, her platinum blonde hair covering her face.

After taking a second to get past my sense of surprise, I stepped forward, positioned myself behind her bony little backside and unzipped my jeans. I pulled my cock out and started tugging at it with one hand. My other hand I raised to my mouth and sucked on my index finger.

My lubricated finger slid easily into her pussy. She was wet already; she must have been thinking about this for some time. I knew how much she hated doggy-style because it was uncomfortable for her, so her doing this was the ultimate act of giving herself to me physically. I won’t lie to you; this pleased me and turned me on.

(I think that an inherent part of the sex act is a transference of power, usually to the man. It takes a couple in a mature relationship for the man to cede total power to the woman. Most men and women are uncomfortable for this to happen though, but for different reasons. I’ve always thought that it requires a sexually adventurous woman to always want total sexual power over a man – or just a plain man-hater.)

I slid my cock into her wet pussy and it felt tight. I heard her give off a stifled grunt but ignored it in the belief that after a few thrusts she’d loosen up. I felt my cock growing as I took in the scene before me. We’d never done it partially dressed before and never in the daytime either. Nor had we done doggy-style since our first night together. Was this a portent of better things to come? Was McDonalds sex history?

The novelty of this act got the better of me and it didn’t take me long to cum. With my full force I came inside her, my hands gripping her hips, amidst sounds of discomfort coming from her, but that couldn’t be helped.

We collapsed in a heap on the bed next to each other. Lying facing each other, with me panting, she wiped her hair away from her face to reveal a toothy grin. My cock shrivelled a little bit faster then.

“Give me a minute, then I’ll see to you,” I said.

“I’m fine, thanks. That was for you,” she said as she got up and went to the bathroom. “Besides, we’ve got to get ready for our next appointment. We’re running late as it is.”

She was right, time was against us, but dammit, the afterglow was too short. We didn’t cuddle. I wanted to give her pleasure too. Before I could say a word I heard the shower starting up.

The dinner and cabaret show in Knightsbridge was excellent. The cabaret was actually a series of burlesque performers and soft-core strippers. I wasn’t expecting that, but Sweet Thing didn’t believe me. Nevertheless she seemed to enjoy the night out. Back at the hotel we were both too tired for more whoopee.

On the Sunday morning I got to make a dream come true. We got in my red sports car and drove across Tower Bridge. Since I was sixteen years old I had dreamed of driving across that famous bridge with an attractive blonde by my side. Halfway across the bridge, cognizant of the moment, I looked at her, to savour making a dream come true…and she smiled. A big, misaligned-teeth smile. Damn, so close!

Red sports car Tower Bridge

 

Parking at the old Millennium Dome cost £20 for four hours; this was an expensive weekend. The private box had a great view over the arena; I’m pretty sure that her previous boyfriend had never done anything like this for her. The Strictly Come Dancing show itself was mildly entertaining for me, but I could see that Sweet Thing was absolutely mesmerised by seeing the television personas in real life. I found my eyes always moving towards Denise Van Outen; if only I had someone as attractive as her by my side.

(Denise Van Outen; my kinda girl www.sofeminine.co.uk/celebrities/album877866/strictly-come-dancing-2012-the-celebrity-line-up-21920566.html )

It was over a two hour drive to get back to her place that Sunday night…which ended in…McDonalds sex!

 

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