Wolf – 6 – Sliding

wolf

I’m fucking her now, ten minutes ago we had arrived at mine, kissing lustily even before the front door closed.

My hands were all over her, sliding across the satin silkiness of her dress.

She wasn’t complaining.  

Not even when I squeezed her breast through the thin material, one hand cupping her breast, attempting to apply a little pressure to the nipple, attempting to heighten her excitement. My other hand gently but firmly pressing against the small of her back keeping her close.

Game on and there’s no escaping.

It seemed like green lights all the way, but maybe I had misjudged the situation and was travelling too fast too soon as when I pulled the thin strap of her dress down, pretending I was only kissing her neck, then started to slide the flat of my palm inside her bra, the lights quickly went red.

She pushed my hand away, breaking off our kiss then looks me in the eye.

“Let’s get a drink”

“No problem” well it wasn’t, even if I was slightly disappointed. But there’s no point pushing your advances when the signal has changed.

What guys need to learn is that sometimes being pushy, just pushes away.

She wasn’t saying No forever, just not right now. Besides it’s after midnight and she’s came back to mine for … ?

Oh yeah, a coffee or a drink, a chat, a snog, or maybe sex?

We will have to wait and see.

I step back and let her lead the way. She’s been here once before for dinner and a taxi home.

That’s the game really, let the lady in the door, give her a look round, let her check there’s no significant other hiding under the bed, make dinner, spoil her and play nice.

The good times will come once she has trust.

She walks into the kitchen ahead of me as I’m checking her ass.

One word .. womanly .. not skinny .. not hippo-like .. shapely .. curves, a waist and hips to hold on to.

The way I like them.

She leans against the worktop and looks round as if she’s checking for anything changed since last week.

Nothing’s changed, I don’t like clutter, things get put away or binned. Even now my OCD is kicking in and I’m kicking off my shoes and placing them on the rack in the utility area.

“Tea or wine?” I hold her eyes as I ask, waiting on the response, a possible go-or-no decision.

If it’s tea, chances are she’ll be calling a cab within the hour, if it’s wine, the night is only young.

“Do you have any white?” She replies and I feel myself smiling, the game is still alive.

“I bought in some Pino for you, there’s that or Prosecco

“Pino please” she says and disappears to the loo.

I pour her wine and make tea for myself, I’m really dull like that.

But the games are on and too much alcohol isn’t good.

She returns a few minutes later with a smile on her face, I’ve no idea why.

Women .. it doesn’t matter how many you’ve had or think that you know .. you don’t.

Guys will never understand women, they’re wired differently, what we think is important, they don’t understand and vice versa and how can you understand someone when you don’t know their motivations or what drives them?

Sure you can read books or magazines on adult psychology?

Men are from … ?

Games people play?

Love smart … ?

Don’t sweat the small stuff?

All bollocks really, generalisations and stuff you probably already know if you are half way sentient and not completely blind to the significant other in your life.

What these books don’t talk about is your particular situation, but they do give you a clue.

Personally I enjoy reading them, but then I enjoy reading books on mathematics too.

If only women worked by formula and their behaviour was as predictable as filling in a few parameters.

She picks up her glass, takes a sip, watches me leaning back on the opposite worktop as I nonchalantly drink my tea and burn my lips.

“Fuck .. ” I spit the tea back in the mug, hardly the sexiest expression made in the history of the past ten minutes.

“Is that an invite?” And she’s in front of me, one hand on the worktop at my side, the other holding her glass, her eyes locked in mine.

Who could refuse?

Our kisses are full on, tongues searching, this time as I pull down the strap of her dress and bra, she doesn’t push my hand away.

I remove her left breast from its holster, feeling its weight in my hands, it’s not as big as it appeared in her bra, but isn’t that kinda normal in these days of wonderbras and even worse chicken fillets?

Maybe that’s what she was removing in the loo?

But then … name one guy who at this point stops the action and calls fault?

One?

Anybody?

No didn’t think so.

The next few minutes pass in a blur, sucking her breasts and sliding my hand inside her thong, enjoying her tight wetness as it seems to reach to pull in my finger and her soft moans of pleasure as I touch her.

Now she’s in kneeling on the sofa in front of me, her dress pulled up to reveal her shapely bottom and waist.

She has hips to hold on to, size 12 I’d guess, but does it matter if she’s a 10 or 16 as long as they are in proportion?

Size 12 is perfect for me. Shapely and not skinny. What grown man wants a skinny girl?

Her face is almost hitting the wall as I fuck her hard from behind. She leans her face on her arms on the top cushion, pushing her bottom further in the air.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a similar situation, but I can’t quite get my knees on the sofa and when I do I’m balanced precariously and there’s not enough purchase in my thrusts.

I stand, but the angle is wrong, I pull her hips up and towards me to change it so that I can fuck her harder.

But now my feet are sliding on the wooden flooring and I wish I hadn’t kicked my shoes off earlier.

She’s panting and moaning and I want to hold off from coming as long as possible but I can’t help it.  It’s either come quickly or fall on my arse.

Maybe we could have stopped and moved elsewhere but at that moment? It just wasn’t going to happen.

I’ve got one hand on her hips and the other on her shoulder pulling her towards me as I fuck her hard til I cum, emptying both barrels inside her.

She’s moaning in a mix of pleasure and pain, close but not quite reaching climax. She backs into me wriggling but my mind is elsewhere and I’m lost as Le Petit Mort takes over for a few timeless moments.

Then reality kicks back in, if I don’t stand up I’m going to fall over. So I pull her to her feet, my cock still inside her but I can feel it deflating and slipping.

I hold her from behind, my right hand on her breast, two fingers of my left on her clit as I bring her to orgasm. She feels a little heavier as she takes her turn to have that little death and almost collapses in front of me.

How long did that take?

No idea, it took longer to write about than it took in real time.

But it couldn’t have been that quick as my tea had went cold. 🙂

Romance huh?

No this isn’t romance, it’s sex.

It doesn’t always go the way you imagined it, lying there in the dark masturbating thinking about how you’ll fuck your future date.

It certainly isn’t like movies, well not the Hollywood ones anyway.


 

Click on the Wolf tab or use the search function to read other parts of this story.

 

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