Monday was Ian.
Wednesday was Tony.
Thursday was Lewis.
Friday was Jake.
Four men in five days. I turned down Clark although he’d asked to see me on the weekend since he missed out on Thursday. How did I feel about it? Mostly powerful. Definitely slutty.
I did it all because I wanted to. That alone is pretty cool.
I looked over four shoulders this week. Held on to four sets of biceps as heavy bodies moved on top of me. Kissed four mouths; tasted four tongues. Gasped at four unique penetrations.
Came many more than four times.
Each experience was different. I won’t say each were special because that would be bullshit. Not every sexual experience should be written about with gorgeous terms. Some are transactional more than anything, and some of you pick up on this through my writing.
I got pleasure out of every man this week, and that was my goal. Fill some time. Get out of my head. Have orgasms.
Check. Check. Check.
They were all so different. Ian is the least interesting to write about because it wasn’t technically excellent or emotionally noteworthy. When we were on his couch I couldn’t help wondering why we couldn’t use the bedroom – although it’s technically his parents condo so it’s also technically their bedroom. I got my answer later when he showed me the Murphy bed he sleeps on. Definitely not as sexy as the white leather couch with the panoramic view of the city.
Lewis continues to be a technically superior lover. Meaning he has the physical attributes I find appealing – tall, muscular, bulky, big cock – he can fuck for literally hours, he’s got great moves. He likes to fuck and finger and lick. Repeat.
And while it’s not entirely devoid of emotion, meaning we do like each other, this sex is no expression of love. It’s all lust. He doesn’t take his time exploring my body with tender touches. We don’t lay in bed and laugh – well, not often. I don’t put my head on his shoulder when we’re done. Maybe once. It’s fucking, not intimacy.
We had some slightly more intimate time in my living room, after our kitchen sex, where naked we stood pressed up against each other, me behind him, where I explored his body with my hands and mouth. But it was short lived and at my hands, not his.
Then there is Tony.
He has never been my most technically proficient lover, most of it borne out of his inexperience (you may recall he has not had many lovers – maybe in his entire life as many as I had this week). I don’t think he’s ever given me a g-spot orgasm (but he was the first to make me cum from nipple stimulation). But it has been immensely satisfying.
His touches alone provide more pleasure than some of the sex I’ve had. He’s aggressive and passionate. The love we feel for one another is physically manifested in the sex we have. We move as one. My brain, heart,and my body are satisfied.
We probably spend as much time talking and cuddling as we do having sex. It couldn’t be more different than Lewis.
And then there was Jake. Of all my experiences last week, ironically the man who knows me the least provided the most balanced experience. I don’t mean love; that’s just silly. But it was emotive and technically good. Few have ever made me squirt in the first five minutes. Poor Fox tried over and over again and never got there.
Jake undressed me – a must-have for me. Undressing myself and hopping into bed to them start reminds me too much of my sexless marriage. He touched me in ways that quickly sent me over the edge. He took care of my orgasm first. He was dominant, but not too much so. He kissed me during sex, he had me in his arms afterwards, he made me cum again, we talked for a long time.
I saw Tony again on Saturday night, after being out with a girlfriend (and yes, I’m winding down the contact). He left early the next morning and I couldn’t bring myself to go from that sexual experience to Clark, who I know is more like Lewis. It wasn’t so much about having sex with two different men in the same day, but just going from one to the extreme to the other was a bit much for my otherwise laid back Sunday.