Sunday, 27 November 2011

The Chandelier, the Sofa and the Avocado Bathroom

Having had a nice time with Lucky Jim, I turn my attentions to Sam, who has assured me that I won't get better than him.  It's an intriguing promise, and I do wonder if he realises quite how many men he is up against (I'm not in triple figures yet, but approaching my half-century, and I haven't had to complain about poor performance very often). Unfortunately, before our intended date I wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare where he has turned into an evil axe murderer and I am running for my life.  As I lie there with my heart pounding, I wonder if my subconscious is trying to tell me to steer well clear of him, but then put it down to good old Catholic guilt warning me that I will be punished for trying to sleep with 3 men in the space of a week.

Nevertheless, after we meet in the same Ditchling pub again, and he suggests I follow him back to his place in my car, I make sure I get his address and text it to MM, just in case I end up being a bloody corpse somewhere in Sussex - at least he'll know where to start searching for the body.  Once I'm in his house I watch for anything suspicious - the first being that the house looks like something out of the 1950s and he obviously doesn't live there, judging by the lack of furnishings, personal items, etc.  Well, he has already told me he only stays over when he's working late...or "entertaining" (nice to know that in these economically strapped times "working late" can still mean a bit of illicit shagging).  He doesn't double lock the door behind me, so I take that to be a good sign.  Next he pours me a glass of chilled white wine and he has a beer - I watch him like a hawk and grab the wine off him before he can tip in some Rohypnol.  Next we move into the sitting room (vast empty space, harsh lighting, with one ancient red velveteeen sofa and a pile of cartoon DVDs - sign of paedophilia?).  I am wearing a short wraparound dress with stockings, suspenders and high heels (well, not vertiginously high because I had to drive..) and it doesn't take long before we are snogging passionately on the sofa and he has his hands working their way up to my stocking tops.  I realise he isn't going to need any Rohypnol to get me into bed because I can't wait to get off the narrow, uncomfortable sofa and into somewhere with more flattering lighting.  I'm worried I look like Camilla Parker-Bowles before the makeover (after the makeover would be bad enough...) and although I don't mind keeping my eyes shut when being passionately grappled with, I was having to keep them firmly shut to avoid the 400 watt bulbs in the overhead "chandelier" lasering my retinas.  I love men, I really do, but how is it they are completely oblivious to their surroundings when getting a woman into bed?

Rather than ask for a pair of goggles (for me) and a blindlfold for him, I suggest we move to the bedroom and he leads me upstairs to a massive freezing cold bedroom, where the windows are wide open.  Bloody hell, how am I supposed to get my kit off in sub-zero temperatures?!  He apologises and shuts the windows - meanwhile I am shivering under the duvet refusing to take anything else off until he warms me up a bit. Which he does..... quite a lot, in fact.  He has a very slow, gentle way of making love, which is really rather nice.  In fact, we end up having sex for over 2 hours, with me coming 3 times, before he finally lets himself go and has a very long, satisfying, climax.  Nice stuff!  I have a lovely post-coital glow which lasts right up to when I have to go to the loo and find the nasty avocado bathroom - yes, honestly, it really was avocado. I didn't think anyone actually still had one - it should probably be listed.  Being an intermittent shag, rather than a meaningful relationship, I don't have to worry about his taste in furnishings - but, still, I feel for any other women who may pass this way.  Then he explains the house is due to be demolished and so nasty sofas, laser beam chandeliers and avocado bathrooms will all make way for a new development and earn him lots of dosh.

I make it home in one piece, and congratulate myself on finding 2 very nice men who are great in bed and just what I am looking for.  And both of them seem keen to see me again.  Being an upfront sort of girl, I have told both of them about the other - on the basis that it will make them more competitive and I will get more attention as a result.  I know - it's appalling, manipulative behaviour, but it seems to work - they both want to see me next week - in fact, they are both edging to be first on the list.  Now I have to ensure I share myself out fairly, as well as ensure MM doesn't miss out on his oats either.  I know I'm being greedy,so  could all this end up being more than I bargained for?

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

Lucky Jim and a Night at the Casino

I call him Lucky Jim because he seems to like a flutter and, from what he tells me anyway, seems to do quite well. So, a night out with him at the casino should be a bit of fun.  MM isn't too happy about it, though. He's quite happy for me to have sex with whoever I like, but he's not so keen if I actually get on well enough with them to have a night out with sex not necessarily on the agenda.  I sort of see where he's coming from but I could do with a night out with an attentive man, I've been working hard and need a break.

I decide that I may well end up wanting to have sex with him so I might as well dress for the part.  It's a warm evening, so I'm not going to bother with stockings etc.  I wear a silky, black wraparound dress that MM bought for me last Xmas.  It flatters my figure and shows a flash of thigh if there's a gust of wind (always a likelihood in Brighton), and I think it's a good look for the casino with a pair of black strappy stilettoes.  No knickers, which makes me feel a little kinky - especially with the ever-present danger of a big gust of wind.

We have arranged to meet at another Cricketers - the one in Brighton this time.  The taxi drops me off just in time and I see him standing in the doorway.  He looks surprisingly good in a sort of gangsterish sort of way.  Better than I remembered him looking, anyway.  We cosy up on one of the red plush benches and chat away.  I feel good seeing him again and just feel really relaxed with him, like I've known him ages, rather than it being our second date.  We head off to the King and I for a Thai meal and all through the meal I am aware of him looking at my cleavage when he thinks I can't see and at my legs when I get up.  It really is a bloody good dress.

Eventually we make it into the casino and agree we'll each put in £20 and see how long it lasts us.  He has a go at Blackjack but that's a bit hardcore for me - I just go on the Roulette.  A lot of the time we are standing watching the poker tables and every time we stop and stand, his hands find their way onto one part of my body or another.  At one point, he is stroking my arse through the thin fabric of my dress and then more or less has his hand between the top of my thighs from behind.  God knows what the punters on the table behind us are seeing, but I hope it's not putting them off their game.  Jim has quickly worked out I'm not wearing any knickers and he's having trouble keeping his hands from going all the way up my skirt.  He's also having trouble walking.  I have now realised that I actually fancy him quite a lot and my pussy is soaking wet, so walking is becoming increasingly uncomfortable for me too.  When he whispers in my ear, "what do you want to do next?", I have no trouble saying  "I want to go back to your hotel and go to bed with you".   He agrees that's a good idea.  Luckily, the hotel is about 20 paces away so we manage it without too much discomfort.

When we get to his room, I insist on making a cup of tea.  Don't know why, really, it's probably a bit of a passion killer, but I think we are both feeling a little bit shy all of a sudden.  He  lies down on the bed and I go over to him and start kissing him.  He slowly unties my dress and I take it off, followed by my bra.  He caresses my nipples then starts licking them, which drives me crazy with desire.  I undo his jeans and take his erect cock into my mouth and start to give him a blow job which he loves.  Then he puts his hand onto my wet pussy and starts rubbing my clit.  I am really turned on and it doesn't take long for me to come really hard against his hand.  I am desperate to feel his cock inside me.  I climb on top of him and guide him in.  It feels great and I start to move up and down and then, suddenly, he comes!  I can't believe it and neither can he - he is really embarassed and I am amazed. I think it's about 30 years since I experienced premature ejaculation and I am rather flattered.  Don't know if that's the appropriate reaction, but I rather like the fact that he is so turned on by me that he couldn't hold it in.  He has his hands over his eyes and won't look at me for about 5 mins, saying "god, I'm really sorry, that hasn't happenend since I was about 17.."  I tell him I think it's great.

After a hug and a chat and a cup of tea, I say I'd better be getting home.  He walks me to the taxi rank, apologising again, despite me saying there's no need, I had a great time.  In the taxi on the way home, I am feeling rather smug that I made a man come before he was ready (fortunately, having managed to get one orgasm in already for myself) and, came out of the casino with £6 more than I went in with.  So, all in all, Lucky BB.