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!
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!