Turning the Tables

One day, I decided I was tired of crying over you. I couldn’t stand being disappointed over and over again. Maybe I’d been wrong, and we weren’t meant to be after all. But in any case, I was done.

When we met, we were both in relationships. We flirted like crazy anyway. Then you broke up with the fiancée. Then I left my husband, but you were already seeing someone else (someone young, you felt compelled to point out). You couldn’t have known the depths of my obsession – good thing, since you surely would have run screaming in the other direction if you did – but I guess that’s why I kept crying. We both seemed to lament our crappy timing, but it wasn’t enough for you to forget about her.

Because I had decided to let you be in charge of contact, it was a long time between texts, but every now and then, you’d check in and ask how I was doing. I was friendly but held things close to the vest. I didn’t feel my lovelife, such as it was, really concerned you under the circumstances (which, I imagined, included nailing the cheerleader up against the wall every chance you got). Yes, I was bitter: after several years of forced abstinence during my marriage, I had yet to “break the seal” as my friend Jen says. I was reminded that I don’t know how to do casual sex, and I felt like the only person on earth not part of a couple.

One day, out of the blue – the way it always happened – you texted: “whatcha doin”? You did this every day for three days, until I finally responded, “Hey”. We had a chat, small talk- the usual drill. But then you asked if I was free for dinner that night. Could this possibly be the same guy who’d been afraid to have dinner with me, for reasons only he could know?

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Some other night this week? Please – it’s important.”

Seriously? My curiosity piqued and my resistance low, I agreed to Thursday. We met at your favorite Italian joint, and I studied you over my vegetable calzone, but couldn’t get a read on what you were thinking.

After dinner, you asked if I would follow you back to your house. You stressed how important it was, saying you needed my help with something. Against my better judgment, I agreed.

Your place was just the bachelor pad I’d imagined: piles of mail and laundry everywhere, a massive flat screen TV that was way too big for the space, and a bottle of scotch on the kitchen table, half gone. I took a seat on the couch and waited for you to explain why I was there.

“I need your help because I don’t think I’ve been fair to you, or true to myself,” you began. “I felt this tremendous attraction to you when you were still with the spouse” – OMG – “but couldn’t do anything about it because you were married and I was engaged. You have no idea how difficult it was to resist you.

“So I wanted to apologize to you for not telling you everything before. I knew how you felt about me, but I was afraid to be responsible for the end of your marriage. And now I feel like I wasted our time. I’m really sorry.”

I just sat there stunned, not knowing how to respond. The silence persisted until you asked me what I was thinking. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think. There was a time I would have been over the moon if you’d said these things to me, but now I just don’t understand. What about the cheerleader?”

“I ended it,” you said. “She’s sweet, but she was just a placeholder. I realized it’s you I want”, and you got up from your chair and started walking towards me. When you got to the couch you sat down and kissed me, tentatively at first, but with increasing passion once you were sure I wasn’t going to reject you.

[At that moment I was relieved that, even though I’d given up hope of ever being with you, and there was no one else on my horizon, I had kept my pussy trimmed and ready.]

You left the room for a while, and when you returned you held out your hand. I followed you into the bathroom, where lit candles surrounded a tub full of bubbles. You silently undressed me, gently exposing each part of my body, and helped me into the tub. You then grabbed a sponge and washed my whole body, pausing now and then to plant kisses on my face, my lips, my neck. I still had a profound sense of disbelief, and was convinced I would wake up at any second.

When you were done with my bath you grabbed a towel and wrapped me inside it. I took note of the fact that you were still wearing jeans and a t-shirt (tight, accentuating your toned chest), and wondered how long that would last.

Once I was dry you led me to the bedroom. I saw a bottle of baby oil on the nightstand and hoped it was for me. You told me to lie face down on the bed, and began to drizzle the oil onto my back. It felt cold compared to the hot bath, but once you started the massage it immediately heated up. I loved the way you paid careful attention to every inch of my body, making love to me with your hands. I needed to be touched like that after such a long time, and I couldn’t imagine a better candidate for the job.

During the course of the massage, my pussy got wetter and wetter. The anticipation of finally being with you, after so much time and effort and tears and doubt, was really getting to me. Meanwhile, I couldn’t understand how you could still be fully clothed. I told you I wanted to turn over, and when I did, I reached for your fly and started removing your jeans. In theory – easier said than done. Once the zipper was down, your dick jumped forward as if it had been spring-loaded, much to my delight. [I also noted with some surprise that you weren’t wearing underwear.] I really enjoy sucking cock, so I was kinda disappointed to find you halfway hard without a single stroke of my tongue. Then again, who could complain about such a thing, under the circumstances?

Before I had a chance to touch you, you protested that this was about me, and you weren’t done pleasuring me yet. Difficult to argue with that, especially since it had never been about me before. So I let you continue your mission by addressing the other side of my body. You gently took my right arm and stroked it with firm hands, just the right amount of pressure. You worked your way down to the tip of each finger, and when you were done you repeated the process on my left side. Same with my legs, feet and toes, except you skipped my inner thighs. Next came my tits. You cupped one with each hand and began gently kneading them. Your touch was warm and perfect in every way. I closed my eyes and moaned a little, and you seemed to enjoy the feedback.

Meanwhile, I noticed as you straddled me that your dick was aimed directly at my face. How great is that? Unfortunately, it wasn’t within reach of my tongue, so my hand would have to suffice. I reached down and grasped your cock firmly, then began to squeeze. I was hoping your resolve would crumble, but you just smiled and soldiered on, moving out of my reach, down towards my feet to continue pleasing me. [Had I been driving the bus I would have done exactly the same thing.]

When you had massaged every inch of my body, you positioned yourself at my feet and nudged my legs open. “I’ve waited so long to taste you,” you said. “I want to make you come.” Don’t expect me to complain, I thought, but I just smiled and said “mmmmmmm”. You began tracing my pubic area with your tongue, running it randomly and lazily over my inner and outer pussy lips, and up and down my inner thighs. My back arched involuntarily in response, and I was sure that turned you on. As you continued licking, I was certain your cock was getting harder and harder, and I couldn’t wait til you were in my mouth.

So when you started paying attention to my clit, I was thrilled, not only because it meant I was on the road to an amazing orgasm, but because I was that much closer to my chance to pleasure you. I had done that thousands of times in my imagination, and I could hardly stand to wait another second to do it for real.

As my clit swelled and you brought me closer and closer to climax, I again tried to make sense of the evening’s events. I still was not convinced this was actually happening, and I doubted I’d ever be.

“Baby, that feels so good,” I said. “I’m gonna come.” The strokes of your tongue intensified, causing electric waves of ecstasy to pour over me. “Oh my god,” I said. “That was amazing!”

“That was the idea,” you replied as you made your way up the mattress towards me and put your arms around me. I felt your dick poking my abdomen as we embraced, and considered it a reminder to begin my happy task. I kissed you for a while, and then grabbed the baby oil. I told you to lie face down (not so easy under the circumstances) and applied the oil to your back. I enjoyed returning the favor of imparting warmth to every inch of your sexy body, relishing the feeling of my hands finally all over you.

As I massaged you I remembered your bad back, and paused to ask if the intensity was good. “It’s awesome, Suzie Q. Feels so good.” Encouraged, I continued, knowing each minute brought us that much closer to what we both wanted most.

At some point during the massage, you began shifting uncomfortably, which turned out to be because lying on your belly was starting to hurt. So I told you to turn over, but was caught off guard when confronted with your vertical dick. Whatever the original plan was, it was now out the window in favor of a superior cocksucking. I started slow, painting your balls with my tongue and caressing your dick with my left hand. You moaned and closed your eyes, then told me how good it felt. My tongue soon moved up and down your shaft, sideways and all around. And then you were inside my warm, welcoming mouth at last. My left hand gently squeezed your balls as my right squeezed and guided your cock in and out of my mouth. I tried to remember those emails about what you like in bed, but I needn’t have bothered. In fact, you kept telling me how good it felt, and how long you had waited. Right back atcha, baby.

I really enjoyed showing you what I could do. Hype is one thing, but when there’s the chance to back it up, you’ve really got something. It seemed to me you were kind of a pushover, because I was getting results I hadn’t gotten before. An unprecedented level of enthusiasm, which manifested itself as something closely resembling steel. How I would love to sit right down on that, I thought. And I would, in due time.

I started to sense your orgasm nearing which, of course, made me incredibly hot. You pulled out and away just in time to explode in my face. I stuck my tongue out and closed my eyes, enjoying the fruits of my long-anticipated labor of love. It took you a while to recover, and when you did, you said, “My God – you are amazing! Where did you learn to do that?”

“Practice, my friend,” I teased. “Actually, all it is is a desire to please you.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that.” You kissed me and stroked my hair.
We lay there as you recovered, but apparently your dick didn’t get the memo. It remained hard and appeared ready for further action. This was a happy situation for me, since my cunt was feeling rather empty. I was enjoying being in your arms after such a long wait, and in the abstract in no hurry to move, but my pussy overruled and I sat up. I silently leaned over you, draping my body across yours to make a T, and opened the nightstand drawer. I found the condom I sought, and held it up for you to see. You rubbed my ass and smiled your “assent”.

The next thing I knew, you were on top of me, kissing me hard as you rubbed your dick against me. I felt you getting harder and harder, closer and closer to fully erect. With each stroke I imagined you inside me, barely able to wait the few minutes it would take to get there. My pussy was so hot I could swear steam was coming from it. When you were ready, you asked me to put the condom on for you, which I did as I held your gaze. Very sexy. You laid down on your back and your cock invited me to play, standing straight up at attention, fully engorged and ready for action. I accepted the invitation by slowly lowering myself down onto your steely rod. We moaned simultaneously at the feel of that, so incredibly hot and long overdue. I started moving slowly up and down, VERY slowly, and we continued looking at each other, as if that was the only way we could process what was happening.

After a while, you decided you wanted to be in charge and lifted me off you. You brought me to my knees and entered me from behind, very fast, which caused me to gasp with pleasure. You filled my space completely, the perfection of it all almost impossible to comprehend. You stroked in and out of me, not too fast and not too slow. You maintained this pace, sliding effortlessly in and out of my wetness, and I felt like I was drunk. I literally had trouble focusing my thoughts, not that any thought at all was required. This physical union was completely natural and instinctual, effortless and spiritual. To say I’d never felt this way before would be a serious understatement.

As you got closer to orgasm, you switched our positions again. You turned me over onto my back and spread my legs, placed a pillow under my ass and slid into me. You then lifted my legs onto your shoulders to remind me of the ecstasy of full penetration. I still don’t understand how I lived without that for so long, and how I was lucky enough to get you to make it happen for me again.

I sensed your orgasm getting close, and I couldn’t wait. I started squeezing my pussy walls around your throbbing cock, and that’s all it took. You finally blew, shooting your load into me, thrusting again and again until you were spent. “Oh my fucking God,” you said, still struggling to catch your breath. “Why did it take me so long to know you were the one?”

“Good things COME to those who wait,” I replied.