I didn’t expect to see him; not at this event, not amongst such a crowd. The setting felt oddly familiar, I felt both at ease and stimulated by the wave of strangers and acquaintances that were talking amongst themselves. There was a thrill of recognition, even though I had long ago taken all possible precautions to ensure that we no longer ran in the same circles. A few weeks before, I had learnt of his new girlfriend, one that he appeared rather fond of – unlike the older woman he was dating when we met.

I had felt a slight pang of jealousy, obviously, but I had also felt relief. I knew now that he would no longer press the question of our flirtation, and that I would no longer have to deliver fragile and painful excuses to his tempting offers. I had been firm, I had been pleading, but mostly I had become increasingly upset and unnerved in his presence, and I avoided him more than I ever broke off our interaction. Seeing him here, amidst strangers, in this unusually stimulating, and liberating atmosphere, I was struck by the level of desire that accompanied the recognition. I hesitated to look in his direction, his presence burning at my consciousness.

My excitement perplexed me, and overwrote, quite suddenly, all other thoughts. As I felt his hand, warm, enveloping, confident and smooth, on my shoulder, I felt my instincts coalesce into a simple, pleasant imperative. I turned to face him, my chest exploding with irrational, inexplicable excitement and I smiled shyly, embarrassed at how transparent my excitement must seem. His smile appeared knowing; I felt myself shudder inwardly at the sudden longing passing through my body. For a moment we looked at one another, eyes locked.

He extended his arm, slowly, and offered me a glass of wine. Our hands did not touch as I accepted it, and for a moment relief washed over me as we began chatting in a friendly and easy manner. As the discussion wore on, we had crossed the room all the way to the foot of a wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. Distracted by his genuine questions and seeking the comfort of the small salon at the top of the stairs, I had led him up to the second floor and, never bothering to sit, I asked him about his graduate degree and about the common acquaintances that I now saw so little of.

“Oh, I haven’t been to the last few poetry circles. I’ve seen Francis once or twice, but not much of the others. What about you?”

“More of the same. I’ve been up North the weekend of the last couple of circles.”

“To see your boyfriend? How has that been?”

“Good, thanks. Long bus rides, you know…”

I waved off the subject and he glanced down at his glass for a moment, then up again, a glimmer in his eye. He smiled at me, caught my hand and pulled me into a large bedroom on the second floor. As he led me through the doorway, his hand fell to my waist. His touch felt thrilling. I turned toward him as he closed the door behind us. Both of his hands grabbed my waist and I was unable to bite down a deep sigh as I finally felt the light scent of his sweat and arousal, and the burning warmth of his skin through the fabric of my dress.

His lips searched mine and I kissed him hard, as I had the first time, so long ago – a kiss whose depth had surprised us both, revealed an unexpected connection. I could feel him tense up at the sound of my moans, and my excitement seemed to slip past my lips as he pulled me against him, hands firm and wanting. I felt my inhibitions slowly fall away as my desire grew, as the rare pleasure of his playful and strong kiss filled my mind and my lower stomach with tingling warmth. I had wrapped my arms against his lower back, pushing his hips forward into mine almost unconsciously.

And, as I felt his hardness I giggled despite myself, sure of the pleasure it would give me, sure of my overwhelming desire. I loved the way he lightly let his fingers trace the length of my thigh and line my warm panties, making me pant for his touch. I could sense that he wanted me to reach the peak of my desire; I felt him pace himself. I suddenly knew that he wanted me as loose and willing as I could be – that he was not going to hold back once the line was crossed. I felt the ache of emptiness deep inside my pussy and my moans quickly became whimpers as I slid his hand into my panties.

He understood me instantly and wasted no time caressing my clitoris; as he slipped a finger inside me I cried out in relief, past all self-awareness. He caught my eye, a smile of satisfaction on his lips, and pushed me roughly onto my back, a few feet still from the bed. As he pulled off my underwear and began leaving a trail of wet kisses down my stomach, I grabbed his muscular shoulders and pulled him back up.

I knew what I wanted, and that wasn’t it. I cupped his balls and the base of his penis with the palm of my hand as he undid his pants.

The sight of the tip of his penis, showing above the line of his boxers, made me quiver with desire. I wet my lips, salivating at the thought of the smoothness of the foreskin against my lips and tongue, and of the wet tip slipping inside me, warm, hard. All I wanted was the feeling of fullness he would provide as he pushed the full of his length inside me, slowly, forcing me open. 
He looked at me in amazement, smiling broadly and with a calm, sure hunger in his eyes. He lowered himself onto me, and let the tip of his penis rest again my opening.

Just as he began to push into me, it slipped in a wet, warm, electrifying inch. I gave a slight jolt of surprise, moving my hips forward, and felt him push into me another inch, ecstatic at the sensation. I felt him stiffen, and before I knew it he gave one smooth, hard thrust and pushed himself all the way into me, making me cry out in relief. I gave myself over the pleasure entirely, almost in a haze; his deep, steady thrusts pounded through me, filling every inch of me, the wet, smooth friction of his penis making me wildly aware of my own arousal.

He caressed the wet opening of my pussy around his thrusting penis, letting his fingers become moist with my juice. He licked a finger as he locked eyes with mine, then slid a finger in between my lips as he leaned in to kiss me. I hungrily licked the taste of my wetness from his lips and I lifted by legs above his shoulders. Trapped underneath him, I felt him pound against me with a quick, steady rhythm that left me helpless with intense and mounting desire. A part of me wanted to come, another hungered for him to explode inside me. I wanted to hear him moan, and grunt, and tell me in a half-state of consciousness that he was about to come, and I wanted to push him back inside me before he could pull out, feeling him empty himself into me.

But just as our excitement seemed to peak, he pulled out. For a moment it seemed we were suspended in time; I expected to see him come, but he did not. Instead he settled himself on his side, behind me, and pushed himself gently back into me. Nestled against me, the angle of his penetration felt deep, tight, and I felt myself pushing out my hips to feel him enter me deeper still, pulling his hips into mine feverishly, wanting him to become aggressive, possessive, to take full ownership of my body. He kissed my neck very lightly and whispered just as he pulled out, and pushed the tip of his penis against my anus.

“Have you ever tried it before?”

In spite of everything I felt myself blush, and, embarrassed and hesitant I admitted that I had. “But it was – it was painful, I don’t want to disappoint you…”

His hands lightly and reassuringly touched my breasts, and slid toward my waist as he kissed my right shoulder. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to.”

I let my hand slip back onto his shaft and nestled his tip back against my anus, aroused and reassured by his daring and his understanding. He felt that I wanted him to take charge; very gently he pushed into the tightness of my backside and I found myself surprisingly aroused at the sensation. I waited impatiently for his next gentle thrust, and the next, and before I knew it I was once again pushing out my hips to meet him, my hands seeking out his to pull him closer, and deeper into me. He could feel my excitement; pleased and excited he began giving deeper thrusts, his arms tightly around me, once again trapping me against him as he pushed the full length of his penis inside me.

I was moaning more loudly now, overwhelmed by and lost in the sensation, and he did not try to muffle my cries – they seemed to edge him on until he sensed the crescendo of my cries. He kissed me deeply as I came, hard, tightening around his shaft and almost losing consciousness at the way he held me down and forced me into the full of my orgasm by thrusting deep into me one last time. Through my last quivers I felt him grow stiff himself, his arms still tight around me; he seemed taken by surprise at his own culminating desire and he let out a deep grunt as he began to pull back from me.

With a small cry of urgency, I grabbed his buttocks and pushed him back into me as he came, helpless to refuse the warmth I offered. I could feel his satisfied smile as he nestled against me and kissed me, deeply and gently, and collapsed onto his side. It wasn’t long before we were both asleep, disheveled and satisfied.