Solitary pleasure (Photo by Dainis Graveris on Unsplash)
Story of my meeting with John.
When you fall off a bike, you have to know how to go back up and pedal again. So I had to reverse the trend and not stay on Francesco’s failure, and start looking for a better shot.
To be honest, I already had a small stock of tinder matches, and just a few sentences to rekindle a stuck conversation to get my way.
Who will be the next one ?
I set my sights on John, John Connelly, very Irish as a name, a little sexy? No ? No matter …
We write every week, every day and sometimes several times a day, he sends me a playlist to listen to during my uber races. It is a particular and original attention, I appreciate. I start dreaming of the handsome John, a little hippie, traveler, long hair, light and whimsical.
The messages never drift towards troubled waters, and my rudder, which always takes me to the darkest and naughty shores, seems ready to let my boat sail in the middle of the river … Could it be the river of love? Argh, I’ll quickly realize that I’m at the end of the pond…
After talking every day, we plan to meet on Thursday evening, to cook and dine together. I’m excited to cook with him, I imagine an accomplice moment, minutes of laughter, contact, smiles …
I’m getting ready for the occasion, it seems to be a bit roots, so I’m not pushing too hard. Just enough to feel pretty, well in my sandals.
After half an hour of walking, it is my feet lacerated by my sandals that I arrive in front of his building. It is a modern building just minutes from the center of Perth.
I sound, her voice is not what I expected, I imagined it lower, warmer, it is too high, a little cold, I don’t know. I instinctively feel that I’m going to be disappointed.
He arrives to open the door for me, he has old pants a little baggy, but tightened at the ankles and a beige T-shirt a little dirty. I don’t validate the style too much, but I’m not going to stop there … Except that it doesn’t stop there! His face is different from what I expected, his eyes are more restrained and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes are very deep and marked, he looks older than he is. His skin is pale, his hair is light brown, not brown like what I expected. And above all, his hair is greasy and dirty, it is tied on his skull. I can’t imagine touching them, not even touching them, it almost makes me heartache just thinking about it.
I think if I can describe it as well, it’s because I fixed it for a while and in fact, he realized my ride. After staring at him, without realizing that the seconds were passing by, I noticed his embarrassment, his eagerness to reach his apartment, the difficulty he had, or rather that we had to start a conversation. It’s my turn to feel embarrassed, I have the impression that he only realizes what it means to have an appointment with a Frenchwoman: less fluent English, hesitations, misunderstandings and moments of whites.
We are both there, in the elevator, smiling shyly. I’m trying to start a conversation, but it’s falling apart. He ends up babbling, I don’t understand everything, he speaks quickly with a strong Australian accent. I’m too focused on trying to find charm for her to really pay attention to all the words coming out of her mouth.
We walk along the corridor to his apartment, I follow him, in the wake of his smell. There are smells that we like and others that we don’t like, well his own, let’s say it doesn’t carry me. Its pheromones do not seem to please mine, my nostrils take a small whiff of this new fragrance, but the verdict is the same, attraction rejected.
When a date starts like this, it’s hard to continue it with a light mind, to say to yourself, go my daughter, you will see it will surprise you, it will make your heart swing, it’s just an unfortunate first impression.
Never underestimate the wine
The apartment is made up of a first room, you enter directly into the kitchen, it is not very large, but that will do the trick for dinner. Opposite on the right, a large desk with several screens, cables, and a small collection of video games, the man must be a little geek. Then the living room, lots of books, travel souvenirs, musical instruments litter the floor and the shelves. I prefer this side of the room… It allows us at least to start a conversation worthy of the name, to open the wine and to relax a little.
He starts the kitchen, we cut each side a part of the dinner, he is serious, and the complicity that I expected looks like he stayed in the supermarket. To cook, he is comfortable and finally, I leave him the reindeer, I observe him while sipping my wine.
In profile, if you look at it it is better than from the front, but his chin is a little too galoche.
The vapors of alcohol seem to help me find it more and more charming. He doesn’t notice anything this time, he’s talking to himself, talking, laughing at his jokes, and cooking.
If I left would he realize it?
Finally, we join the sofa for dinner, we chat, but seeing our plates and our glasses, I see that he speaks much more than me, I have already finished in a good ten minutes when he puts his fork. He squeezes me wine.
He puts his arm on the side of the sofa, reaches mine and begins to caress it.
Fatigue hits me suddenly, I feel that my eyelids are dreaming of closing, that my movements are slow. I feel exhausted, apathetic, and I then dream of going back to bed. I can see that the charm does not work, that I do not feel desire for him. I believed in it so much, I thought so much that I had found my little gem. You have to know how to admit defeat when necessary.
He starts to wash the dishes, I don’t have the energy to offer my help. I sit there cross-legged on her couch, my eyes dream of closing and my whole body seems tired and summons me to go to bed. I am writing a message to one of my friends at the inn, telling him that I am going home.
John comes to sit next to me. A priori the dishes are finished … Lest he find me rude and think he is bored (this is a bit the case, let’s face it), I hide my phone.
Yawning at the crows, I show him that I am exhausted. Justifying myself, I’m sorry, I’m usually more dynamic, less lethargic. He smiles, apologizes lip service. I tell her I’m going home, that I can’t stay awake, that we’ll see you next time. He offers to lie on his bed, I decline.
He comes closer, he takes me in his arms, I don’t have the strength to resist and it’s rather pleasant. I try not to focus on its smell, to forget the ones I have preferred in the past. To hang on to the positive, to this rather large torso that welcomes my sleeping head, to that hand that tenderly caresses my hair.
Desire is delayed
But now, I feel that desire does not go up … I think about how to get out of this situation when he turns my head and kisses me. The kiss is soft, his beard hairs tickle my lips a little, but it’s not unpleasant. And yet, still no desire. Nothing, nada, niente, not an ounce of contraction under my body.
I still let myself go to his kisses. Apparently appetite comes from eating … So maybe …
His fingers are rough on my skin, his gestures shy. Does he hold back his cravings, or is he considerate? Envy intrudes into me, wants it to hug me, to grab me, to transmit its excitement, to press me under its weight. I don’t want to be touched, I want to be touched, fiddled with. I want his hands to grip my breasts, my buttocks. But he just touches …
I try a maneuver, a means of transmitting my desires to him, I tighten his skin between my fingers, I scratch it a little, I try to bite his neck. Give me a little wild, John, get out of your shell … But John caresses, pampers, John takes me for a kitten.
John’s hidden talents
And while I still have my skirt, my bodysuit and my underwear, he kneels. He kneels as a servant would do before his queen. He removes me with as much delicacy from the panties that I had taken so long to choose, and he buries his head under my skirt. I hardly see him anymore, the slightly satiny green fabric hides his face, I only see his greasy hair, a little undone.
But John has hidden talents, and his language is agile, he has mastered the art of pleasing women apparently. I tilt my head back, I feel my body stretching and relaxing according to the rhythm imposed on him by John’s magic mouth. He is focused on his task.
For my physical desire to be at its peak, my desire must come from my mind, I must extricate myself from John, that I think of someone else, an ex crosses my mind, Max too, I mix, I add, and pleasure awakens. Voluptuousness invades my whole body, I contract with pleasure, a sigh comes from my lips, I’m there, I’m almost there, the orgasm is there at the door.
But John stops, his tongue leaves my clitoris a second from delivery, a hundredth of a second, I reached a state of perfect rapture. He kisses my thighs, my belly … I want to push his head towards my privacy and to press it, to tell him to continue. Still, it’s too late, I know, he has no idea.
He goes up to my stomach, lays down timid kisses. He struggles with my clothes to take them off, I help him, I undress slowly, hoping that his embrace will be stronger, more intense when naked.
I take off his t-shirt, he is quite muscular, and only a brioche makes the whole thing less firm and attractive. He lies down on the carpet, I rub myself, I awaken his desire. His pants and boxers don’t last long.
We are naked, on a carpet that scratches my knees, lengthened his hair half undone, scattered, me astride him. I stay a few millimeters from his skin, I feel his desire to rise, sometimes touching the heart of my desire. He fidgets sometimes, as if he wanted me to take him inside me, there like that, in the middle of the living room … and especially without a condom.
Since I see that he does not move an inch, that he does not seek after a small piece of latex, I whisper in his ear that we would need protection.
Change of scenery
His desire is suspended for a moment, I let him get up, I head for my part towards the bedroom. Having sex on the ground is exciting, but when everything else is wilder.
His bed is large, comfortable, the cushions are soft, and I feel it is in his interest to come back quickly if he wants to find me awake. He returns triumphant, he lies on his back, he intends to resume exactly when we were. Let’s go to get back astride him, I excite my fingers, my kisses on the neck, grabbing his head and his hair (too bad, I would wash my hands), putting all the vigor that He does not have.
Again erected like an I, it is ready. I release myself so that he puts on the condom. He doesn’t seem to be an expert, I wait, I’m getting a little impatient.
Finally, finally I can slip it into me. A warm feeling comes over me, the angle is perfect, my pleasure wakes up instantly, I print the rhythm I need, I dream of other bodies, of other men, of other lovers.
And the interior fireworks are coming, the inside of my body is shaking, I’m here and nowhere, for a second, nothing matters. Then the pleasure gradually falls, I continue, it’s good, but I have already reached my peak. I know I won’t reach it anymore, I know my body.
It’s too long there …
I give myself now so that he too can achieve the same delight.
After a while in this same position, he faces me, I close my eyes, seeing him in this state of desire does not make mine stronger, on the contrary. I plan with Filippo, Max, Killian. I hold on to the memory of those who awoke my desire at a glance, with a simple caress.
To solve the problem, I put my back to it, I can touch it at leisure, bring up the curve of desire and pleasure a little. But he doesn’t stay long, he likes to be under, lying down. He tries to turn me without getting out of my lair. Impossible, we twist. It would have been easier just to detach and re-fit later.
The position is not very comfortable for me, but whatever, I want it to end, the desire is gone, sleep has returned. He seems to be getting tense. Hop, I roll on the side.
Not really sure that he finished, I go to the bathroom, when I return, he rushes in.
A pleasant awakening
I slip under the sheets, put my head on the pillow and close my eyes. The message will be clear at least, the party is over for tonight.
He wedges behind me, tries to kiss me, I get away a little, offering him my only hip to put his palm. I’m falling asleep.
In the early morning, finally at 6 am to be precise, his alarm clock rings. I’m looking at my watch, ok, it’s time for me to leave. But he comes to stick, he wants a hug, I let myself do after all this is not so unpleasant. I fall asleep, my lazy princess, who wants to stay a few more minutes with Morpheus. But he doesn’t hear it that way, he gently turns me on the back. And then his head and his entire body go to hide under the duvet.
He awakens my desire with his fingers and his tongue, my mind sails towards other desires and other memories, and this time it does not stop, the orgasm comes, it is full, whole, nourished by fantasies, words and gestures of my memory, but there it is!
I’m confused and elsewhere when he comes back to my lips, he lies on his back, in turn, he looks at me with envy. I understand the message, my mouth goes to his erect penis. His penis is pretty good, well proportioned, quite large and wide. I am not complaining.
No desire, no desire
It’s silly, but I don’t put all my fervor in it, I’m a little lazy. He still seems to like it.
My alarm rings in turn, I take this opportunity to stop my efforts. Usually, I love to feel the desire of a man at the mercy of my lips, but not this morning, not that of John. (The poor). I ask him if he has a condom nearby. He gets up, joins the living room, searches…
Learn my dear John, that sliding one of these little magic squares under your pillow may in the future allow you not to cut the desires of these young ladies …
He comes back, the frolic is a bit boring, it lasts a long time. Even my fantasies can’t catch my libido. After a third change of position, he is lying on his back. He took off the hood, I take it he finished. I want to scream at last, but I abstain.
However, he puts my hand on his member, he stiffens again. Oh no, I want to go back to the hostel, find my friends, and go back to sleep. I help him a little, but I stop quickly.
He then takes the thing in hand, and gives pleasure alone, my head on his shoulder. I watch his seed cover his belly between disgust and dismay.
Quick shower, I get dressed, he offers me a coffee. I feel uncomfortable with him this morning. I feel his hope to start again, he talks to me about restaurants where we could go eat. But his 1990’s look, his flip flops, his hair still unwashed, no I already know that I don’t want to see him again.
The waitress takes a long time to serve us, I peek at my watch, I don’t want to miss my bus. I want to go home. With our cafes in hand, I’m heading for the street, I have to go, we keep up to date. He kisses me, hope bursts his pupils, the coldness must undoubtedly pierce mine.
Since then, he rewrote me, I replied briefly, I will soon have to put an end to texting, to be honest and fair with him. He’s a good guy, kind, and with a certain talent, but I’m not the lover I need …
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