I Get Back in the Swing of Things, Sort Of

We’d been trying to get together for a while now. After Dean and I broke up, I emailed him—I’d heard he’d had an injury and, in addition to propositioning him, I did want to know how he was doing. He assured me that all was well, and he’d like to get together.

Then followed a month during which he was out of town; I was busy; he called too late one night, and now here he was. Tall, lanky, long-haired Jed: the closest I will come to Marc Bolan. We hadn’t seen each other in about a year, though we spoke once or twice and emailed via facebook. I am fond of him; he seems genuinely interested in so many things; his enthusiasm is very appealing.

But tonight I didn’t know what to say. I was out of practice with Jed, and part of me felt like crawling under the covers and forgetting about sex until … until what? Until I stopped thinking about Dean, I guess. Dean.


We hugged—I felt a little awkward, but he was friendly and relaxed as ever. And when I opened a bottle of wine I found myself in a better frame of mind. Some cheese and crackers also helped. In my new apartment with the warm spice (orange) walls and my very own kitchen, I wanted to be a good hostess, so hors d’ouevres seemed appropriate.


We sat on my bed and talked—I gave Jed the lowdown on Dean, and he told me about his girlfriend (he is in an open relationship). I will never be in an open relationship. I was just telling myself this when he leaned in to kiss me.

He tasted nice. I tugged his lip into my mouth and nuzzled him. “I just want to get rough with you,” he said thoughtfully, and pushed me back against my pillows. I gazed at him from under my lashes, my patented Come hither, I’m submissive look. But I didn’t feel that jittery fear and anticipation that I’ve felt before, the excitement I derive from the taboo or implicit threat of being dominated. Perhaps I was getting used to being dominated. Or perhaps I was used to Jed. That is, Jed didn’t intimidate me. Which is just as well, since he is quite a bit younger than I am and not really an intimidating person (aside from his looks, which are pretty arresting)…

Jed stripped off and then stood up, naked. He looked down at me, still sprawled out on the bed.

“Suck my cock,” he ordered, and despite my declared lack of submissive-derived excitement, I found myself only too happy to obey. I bent over and slowly swiped my mouth across his cock.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good,” he said after a minute. I pictured us from above: my head bobbing up and down as I sat hunched on the mattress, ardently sucking him.


“Oh yeah, you really know how to suck cock, don’t you?” Jed murmured. Positive reinforcement is a good motivator; I nodded without taking my mouth from him.


After a bit Jed said, “I want to fuck you,” and when I pulled off my clothes, “You’ve got a great body.” Compliments never fail to have their effect; I smiled. And without further ado, he slid on a condom, rubbed some Babe Lube (which I gather he brings on all his dates, which is just as well since I don’t have any) over it, dabbed some on my clit, and leaned over.


He slid inside me easily, and I sighed, a physical Ahhhhhh. “You like having my seven and a half inch cock in you?”

“Oh, yeah,” I gasped. Funny, I remembered him referring to it as his eight inch cock. Had someone said “Jed, that’s not eight inches…” or something? I wondered why he had resized himself.

“You want to get on top?” he offered. Too intent to speak, I nodded. I rolled on top and slid rapidly up and down the pole of his cock, thrusting my nipples into his mouth. We stretched towards one another, towards that mysterious summit. Jed pushed my buttons pretty easily, and before I knew it the bucking tension rushed up inside me and spilled over. I gripped Jed’s shoulders when I came, and slumped against his chest, panting.

We lay there peacefully in my dim room. Then, after a few minutes, Jed asked, “Can I fuck your ass?”

I had been expecting this: “Sure.”

He applied Babe Lube to his fingers and slowly probed my ass with one finger, then two. I breathed slowly. It wasn’t painful, just a strange pressure. Anal sex is, for me, a side dish. I think I’d enjoy it more if I was sucking or fucking someone else at the same time. The idea of being totally engulfed by cock, swollen with it, appeals to me…. The pressure would focus my mind. But now I was just aware of the throbbing emptiness of my pussy, the ache that comes from unfulfilled sexual promise.

Jed came quickly and once again we lay back on my bed, breathing hard. Then he said, “Do you want to fuck my ass?”

But I was tired, and the thought of more effort exhausted me. “Next time,” I said, “I promise.”


Almost immediately Jed stood up. “Oh well, I think I’ll go now.”


I sat up. Was it something I said? Apparently. “Well, you don’t have to,” I said, sort of bewildered.


He pulled a shirt over his shoulder. “I just kind of feel like you’re rejecting me,” he explained.


“Bu—”


“No, it’s not your problem, it’s mine,” he said earnestly. “I just feel like you aren’t interested.”


I just stared at him. I could have said, Well, I could say you only want me so I can stick a dildo up your ass. And I wasn’t rejecting him, I just felt unequal to sticking a silicon cock in his ass at this moment. But I didn’t say anything, I don’t know why, except he’d already made his mind up. Jed was dressed and ready to go.

I felt guilty, and taken aback. I pulled on a t-shirt, determined to be a good hostess, even if I couldn’t give my guest exactly what he wanted. “Do you know how to get back?” He had ridden his bike here.

He stuffed the Babe Lube into his leather bag, and squinted thoughtfully. “I just need to know how to get to…” [he said the name of a main drag nearby].

“Oh, you just take a left at the streetlamp and then bear right,” I said, glad I could be useful. I trailed him to the door.

“It was good to see you.”

“You too,” he said. We kissed briefly, chastely, like old friends. Then he left, and so I was alone again.