Sushi Time

There've been a variety of women in my life, though few that I could call my own for more than a night or three. I've picked up (and been picked up by) partners in a number of places and times. Last night, for example, is one of the infrequent times a woman approached me.

I enjoy eating sushi - some people don't like it, but I can't seem to get enough of it. There's a nice little sushi bar here in town that makes a great Spider Roll (and I couldn't tell you what was in it if I tried), and so I often go after work or class to grab a bite to eat and just unwind. I was there last night, lounging at the bar with a cup of tea when the bell to the shop door rang; naturally I looked over, and saw her.

She didn't sit next to me at first: I later found out she'd been waiting for a date, but he never showed. Or, if he did, it wasn't until after we left. By the time I ordered my food and had it arrive, she apparently got fed up with waiting and decided that I'd be a suitable alternative to whomever she was supposed to be meeting; she walked up and (rather bluntly) introduced herself as Sara. I offered her the seat next to me, and we started talking.

Just little stuff, really. I try to get women to talk about themselves so that I can listen, and usually I don't have a problem with it. She talked about her work as a vet's assistant (which quickly eliminated that tiny interest I had in working with animals professionally - I never put much thought into it, but she assured me of things I really had no interest in finding out in the first place), where she wanted to visit, her roommate. Our food came, we ate, we finished. We spoke until the shop closed and, much to my chagrin, the owner actually had to tell us he was turning the lights out before we got the hint.

I kissed her hand after I walked her to her car. She seemed to want more, but I'm always concerned about pushing myself on people (it's a side effect of being tall and... well, tall). I'd almost turned around before she mentioned that she only lived a few blocks away. I followed her in my car, and found out that she meant that literally, she lived something like three blocks from the restaurant.

Her roommate was nice, in a vague sort of way. She didn't look to happy about some guy she'd never met seeing her in pajama bottoms, though - she quickly withdrew to her own room. Sara popped in a DVD and offered me a drink.

She curled up next to me as the movie started; it was almost a reflex for me to kiss her forehead. She kissed me, and I could still taste the faint lingering taste of oranges on her lips. I suppose, from there, it was inevitable. I responded, drawing her lower lip in and gently suckling on it. Following that, I carefully kissed down her cheek to her neck. There's something about a woman's neck that I find completely fascinating: smooth flesh, warm, at the perfect place for a light nibble. And in my experience, women enjoy it when a man focuses on the nape - I guess it's the nape? - of her neck for a while.

It wasn't much longer before her blouse was unbuttoned; we decided it might be prudent to retire to her room, so that we wouldn't interrupt The Roommate with whatever she was doing.

Once the door was closed, the blouse came off. She looked rather cute in the restaurant, but the glimpses I got there were nothing compared to her in bed. I'll admit that I've always had a preference for petite women, and she was certainly that. And that same bluntness that brought her to me initially didn't suddenly fade away once she had me alone, which often happens: her bra came off almost immediately after the blouse which, while it denied me the pleasure of undressing her, was incredibly hot. I didn't even see her unhook it - she just shrugged it off her shoulders and carefully, oh-so-carefully, dropped it to the ground.

I kissed her again, pulling her into my arms, but she wouldn't have any of that. She took off my shirt and seemed disappointed that I had another beneath it (for all of the few seconds she let it stay). I remember kissing down her body, playing with her nipples before she not-so-gently nudged me onto the bed. My belt came off, followed quickly by my pants - she left my boxers on for some reason, though if she'd wanted them off they wouldn't have been there any more. Sara took me into her mouth; I don't usually get that into blowjobs, but she knew what she was doing. Her tongue felt like it was massaging me almost lovingly, even as she forced more and more of my cock past her lips.

But I don't like giving up control that easily. After a few minutes, I drew her back up to me and flipped her onto her back. I hooked my finger in the waistband of her slacks and her panties and tugged them both down. She kicked them off even as I came back up to taste her mouth again before kissing down her body.

Every woman I've been with has had a faintly different taste - I can't put a finger on it most of the time, but she had a kind of tangy sweetness that I quite enjoyed. She was already moist when I first tasted her, but the flavor grew stronger as I delved past her outer lips. Just as I was preparing to truly settle into eating her out, however, I felt her small hands on my cheeks: apparently she didn't like giving up control either.

She pulled me up and pushed me back onto her bed, kissing my cock again. Then she straddled me - I actually prefer it that way, as I'm fairly large - and I actually tried to stop her before I realized she'd put the condom on with her mouth. I hadn't even noticed it. I expected her to go slowly, to see how much she could handle, but she just slammed herself down on me until I was almost entirely inside her. There's no nice way to put it - she didn't have sex with me, she

fucked

me. I can still remember her hair falling over her eyes as she did so, and it's something I won't soon forget.

The sight of her as she came, slamming herself down as though I were the first lay she'd had in years, set me over the edge as well. I held her hips to slow her down, and she leaned forward to kiss me as sweat trickled down her cheek.

It doesn't take me long to recover - I think it has something to do with the fact that I'm sexually dysfunctional. I don't orgasm during sex (usually), I only ejaculate. Sex is pleasurable, but I don't have the bliss I've heard other people describe when they talk about their climax. And so I only take a minute or so to get back into the swing of things.

In the wee hours of the morning, once she'd told me she wasn't sure she could take any more, we simply lay in her bed and basked in the afterglow of what'd happened. I guess I must've fallen asleep: the next thing I remember, it was morning. I woke her up as I got dressed, and she kissed me on the cheek. It's then that I found out she'd always wanted to do something like that, just push a stranger down and just ride him - apparently, it's what she had intended to do with her date if he impressed her enough, but he never showed up and I was there. His loss.

I told her I had to get to work, and she gave me her number before I left her bedroom. The look her roommate gave me as I walked out the door was priceless; she knew exactly what had happened, judging from the redness of her face and the fact that she immediately looked away when I caught her eye.