Ah, date night. Finally.
Mark of Exile on Pain Street (now freshly pressed, no less!) reminded me again that I should not feel compelled to write every day. He’s right, of course, but I like to do it. Although I now give myself permission to skip a day if there’s nothing I have to say. It just doesn’t happen all that often.
Despite some assertions that the anticipation of an event is greater than the event itself, that wasn’t the case with my date on Friday night. It had been over a month since our adults-only overnight date.
Tony arrived at my place around 6:30pm. We had dinner reservations for 7pm at my favorite Italian restaurant; a 3 minute walk from my house. I have a few dates there (Jason, NIM, Johnny, and others), and the proprietors are lovely to me. My son declares it the best pizza he’s ever had.
I am still in the process of listening to my vinyl: Def Leppard’s song “Love Bites” from their album Hysteria was playing when Tony rang my doorbell. While we enjoyed a full body embrace we joked that the song reminded us of school dances. So we messed around a little bit just like we always wanted to in high school.
I had taken great delight Friday on buying the ingredients required to make two of the drinks Tony and I had on our first date together. The first was a drink with cava (sparking wine, naturally), Domaine de Canton (a french ginger liqueur with Cognac), and Dry Curacao (an orange liqueur). The second drink is called a Dark n’ Stormy and is made with ginger beer and dark rum. I also had a couple of wines for him to choose from.
I offered him a choice and he wanted a Dark n’ Stormy. It took me a while to make it because we were kissing and then I leaned over my counter to get something and he was immediately behind me, wrapping his arms tight around me and nuzzling the back of my neck. By now, “Pour some sugar on me” was playing which of course is a fun sexy song…I surprised him with a deep knee bend, grinding my ass against him, and he groaned with delight.
We promised each other we were going for dinner, no matter what.
After the drinks were poured we resumed our 80s inspired makeout session. Suddenly he broke away from me and said “oh, we have to get lottery tickets on our way to the restaurant.”
While I agreed, I also wondered out loud what his train of thought was that led him there. He said “well I’ve had a great day, I’m drinking a dark n’ stormy, am about to go have Italian food and am making out with an amazing and hot blonde, it got me thinking I’m super lucky.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for a long time after that.
I am not going to recount the entire date – all 7 waking hours of it – but there were several parts worth sharing:
We talked about spending an overnight together at a fun city a short drive from here. We also talked about more aspirational travel plans (Thailand, in particular) and decided we should try one night away together before thinking of more.
I brought up how odd it was to be only partially moved out of my old house for a while (which is the state he’s in right now) and some of the challenges on both sides. I was not being antagonistic or complaining about it – simply sharing I knew it was weird. He had no desire whatsoever to engage in that conversation, which I found interesting. Seems he doesn’t like to share.
He was affectionate, either putting his hands under the table so he could grab the top of my legs, or putting my hand between his as he ran his hand up my forearm. There is something so amazing about his touch. I hope that feeling never fades.
At point he very casually and calmly said, between bites of his pasta, that at some point he was sure I would be restrained later in the evening.
It made my insides do something funny, in a good way.
We never made it bowling. Sorry to disappoint those of you hoping for an update on my competitive nature and how I handled winning or losing. We had a wonderful dinner over pasta and a bottle of wine and shared dessert. We fully intended to just pop back to my place but – shocker – we got sidetracked.
Making out on the couch, he suddenly told that he wanted to see me in my necklace, bra, and underwear…and nothing else. “Okay”, I cheerily said, and practically ran upstairs. I no longer recall how it happened, but after a few minutes of enjoying each others almost-naked company I found myself digging out a pair of Armani 4″ heels I can’t really walk in (although they look fantastic) and added those to my ensemble.
He stopped and stared and said “Ann…oh my god…you are exquisite in that outfit…wow…unbelievable” and threw me on the bed.
I learned he can be nice and aggressive when he wants to be.
When he told me he likes that I am so physically responsive and just keep cumming, I used that opening to mention some days when I’m working from home I masturbate up to five times a day. He told me it was super hot.
I also used that opportunity to suggest perhaps when we don’t see each other in person, he could be on the phone with me while I masturbated. Talk me through it, as it were. He didn’t say no.
He likes my pillows and sleeps well in my bed.
The hydraulics issues are still not resolved but I learn more with each interaction. No, we still haven’t talked about it explicitly. Yes, he makes me cum multiple times (and it’s getting better). Yes, he cums too, sometimes more than once. And I decided I’m not going to write about it here in excruciating detail, unless there’s some change or something different to say.
We woke up extra early to make sure we could enjoy some time together before he had to go. Afterwards, we spooned and he wrapped himself around me and I felt content. And that feeling remains.