The Art of Sex

Coda -- Adieu Does Not Mean Goodbye

At the taxi stand I hug you one more time and tell you adieu, because I confident we will meet again. As I do so, I slip a note in the pocket of your sweatshirt. It is something I had prepared in advance if I thought the evening went as well as I hoped. It had. I wave and you depart in an Uber.

I return to my room a bit crestfallen and very horny. I hope you appreciate I honored your request. In my mind's eye, I see you in the Uber with a combined look of satisfaction and a little sadness. An image that reminds of Diane Lane in the film Unfaithful.

Once settled in, you reach into your pocket for your cell phone. You plan to call home and say, "I am on the way..." You find a note. You unfold it. It is a handwritten poem:

since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things

will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool

while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,

and kisses are a better fate

than wisdom

lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
--

the best gesture of my brain is less than

your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other; then

laugh, leaning back in my arms

for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

It's a poem by e.e. cummings. My favorite. Not only is it romantic, but it serves as advice to writers to write only about what you know from lived experience. Live life, don't just make up stories about it. "The syntax of things will never kiss you!"

I wrote this note planning to give it to you if the evening went as I hoped. But when you left, I slipped it into your pocket. It makes you wonder if you should have slept with me. Oh well, you think, "I can't turn around now."

Chapter 4 -- With Open Eyes

Almost a month had passed since our first and only encounter. But it feels like a year waiting to consummate our relationship. Since that first night we've come to know each other much better via e-mail and texting. We've grown close, and comfortable with one another.

You've clarified that the one-sided conclusion to our first encounter is not at all like you. I truly understand you had to go at your own pace. You said I deserved a reward for my understanding, which I hope will be an amazing fuck.

We discussed two possible weekend getaways -- either a food and music indulgence in San Francisco or perhaps a weekend in New York of art museums and theater. I assumed we would end up in New York for high culture someday, but the Bay Area offers for my work reasons for travel.

We shared our sexual histories and have both been tested as free of STDs. We agreed that condoms will not be needed. The intimacy of this decision seems very romantic and a welcome natural start.

Due to my flight schedule, I had the foresight to give the concierge your name so you can check into "our" hotel room first and wait for my arrival. I remark that calling it "our room" is thrilling for me. You laugh at my romanticism.

You arrive as planned, then after a bit of window-shopping to distract yourself, you return to the hotel with more than an hour to kill before I will arrive. You pace the room. You turn on the TV. You play with your phone. You cannot concentrate. Time passes slowly.

You're wearing denim and a simple button-down shirt, knowing I like women in jeans. You consider changing into something else before I get there. Glamorous? Sexy? A skirt? Then, you conclude you should just stick with your first impression. You ponder unzipping them to warm up the "playground" before I arrive. You then wonder if it's better to let me have that pleasure. Undecided, you do nothing.

Then you hear the door. It's me. I enter carrying only a leather duffle bag and a bottle of Champagne. The bubbly this time is a Pol Roger -- the Winston Churchill cuvee -- one of my favorites. And, something I can afford only for very special occasions.

I drop my bag, kick off my shoes and I set the bottle on the floor so I can hug you. We kiss. It feels like no time has passed at all since last we met. You are smiling like a child at Christmas. Your beautiful eyes sparkle sweetly. I take off my jacket casually and hang it up. You watch me carefully. Each move now is charged with eroticism. Every action is still new, so every movement is a "first time" worth savoring. Each small choice or action says something about the other. It's all new territory. And discovery always feels sexy.

I kiss you and start unbuttoning your blouse. I am wasting no time. But you do not seem to mind. The next thing you know, you're fully naked and I am shirtless and in bare feet. You place your palm flat on my chest fur and wonder how you got naked. You're in a haze. You can't recall our clothing coming off. Yet, somehow, it did. Now you're standing in front of me, nude.

I kiss you passionately. You feel my fingers parting you as we stand. Intending to embrace you, we accidentally stumble backward in a clumsy Tango. We bump into a big leather ottoman and club chair. You drop on the chair when the backs of your knees collide with the ottoman. I drop to mine and bury my face in your fully engorged pussy. It smells familiar. I breathe deep.

I think you start to say, "Please fuck me..." But you give in to the pleasure as I start licking you. Since I seem to be truly enjoying the activity, you leave me to it. Then I find my mark and rub it long and hard. My tongue is still on your clitoris as I bring you to orgasm. That was crazy fast, I think. Knowing your climax is on its way, I had the forethought to unzip my pants. At the very moment I think you start to come, I am between your legs and in you, my pants still on. Your orgasm is completed once I am fully inside of you.

You moan. We move together for a while, kissing as we do, and I feel your pussy contractions. I wonder if that another mini-orgasm, or just the final vestiges of the first one still echoing within you. I now alternate between doing you orally and fucking you in the most slow, mercilessly prolonged way, not allowing you to complete your next orgasm from either form of stimulation before switching to the other. Your body language makes it obvious that you want me to continue fucking you to completion. I stop, stand, and fully remove my clothes.

With the oversized ottoman pushed against the club chair we have a perfect little single bed next to the giant king we will be sleeping in. You stretch catlike, adjust the throw pillow, lie back and make yourself comfortable. I slide up and I am in you again. We rock our hips in unison for some time, with more enthusiasm for the kisses than the sex.

I stop kissing you and bury my face in your neck. Your hair smells great. I slide my hands under your ass and cup both cheeks. Now alternating between fast and slow penetration, I match this pace by pulling your ass up and into me as I push my own ass down. You slide your own hands down from my back and begin to pull me in to match my own pushes. We are now in perfect sync. Shallow push. Deep push. Hold for a breath. Slide out. Shallow push. Deep push. Hold a breath. Slide out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Once the rhythm becomes automatic I remove my hands from your ass without changing our pace. I arch upward and reach for your arms. I slide my hands down to your wrists without breaking the fuck rhythm. I raise your arms upward so your hands are now palms up above your head. You feel constrained ever so briefly as I hold you down firmly by your wrists. For just mere seconds. Just long enough for you to feel overpowered by me, but not dominated in a scary way. I kiss you again passionately as I do this. With tongue. Then, I relax my grasp on your wrists and move my hands lovingly on top of yours. Our hands are now palm to palm -- with finger matching finger as if we are comparing hand sizes.

I then press my thumbs into the center of your palms and massage them in tight little circles. Firmly. As a do so, I break our hip rhythm and push into you as deep as possible and rotate my hips slowly. My cock presses your cervix in a movement that mirrors my thumbs on the center of your palms. The corresponding pressure suddenly makes your hands into newly discovered erogenous zones. Like buttons that turn on the sex. This is good.

As I fuck you in these tight little circles you begin to rhythmically hip thrust upward. Your movement is like a bass player playing a new rhythm in counterpoint to the drummer. I respond to your improvisation. With each slow thrust you make, I push thumbs into palms and push my cock hard into you. And then I reduce the pressure in equal measure to your metronomic hip thrusts. Once the new rhythm is jointly established, our pace begins to quicken. We are both going to come. Very soon.

I release your hands and grasp you about the shoulders, cradling the back of your head in one hand and hugging you with the other arm under your shoulders as our pace quickens toward orgasm. Like an accomplished jazz musician, you add another layer of intrigue to the rhythm. Your pussy starts to contract in syncopated waves that are further enhanced by your thrusts. The drums and bass are now joined by your vocals. You ARE coming. Hard.

The waves of your pleasure wash over me. Literally. I do not come, but I ride you rhythmically to a standstill. Now it is my turn to cum. I want you to concentrate on it. I want you to be attentively focused on the contractions, as my cock pulses my "baby safe jizz" (as I have previously described it) inside of you.

I rarely speak during sex. But I now break that silence to give you very clear instructions: I say, "Turn around, Baby. I want you from behind." I then direct you to get on your knees on the ottoman with elbows on the club chair. You seem to shudder as you turn and raise your ass to me. I tend to come very quickly in this position, so I save it for the finish. I feel very "alpha" when doing it doggie style, and that arouses me to a quicker climax. It is so deep when you are in this pose, and I can completely dominate you in a very primitive male way.

You bury your face in the chair and rock your butt slowly from side to side as if to signal me: Is this what you want? I mount you like you're a mare and pound you hard. I take a firm grasp of your hips on both sides and pull your ass into me as I pump you. I am now pushing your face into the pillow, but I can still hear your muffled moans.

My right hand is now wrapped around your waist fingering your clit as I fuck you, while my left is attempting to grasp a handful of your now tussled hair. I am totally dominating you physically now. You are making muffled screams into a pillow, but I just ignore them and drive you harder. I feel you contracting as you push your ass back against me hard.

You have fallen completely silent now, but you are either having orgasm contractions, or you are consciously kegeling me. Either way, it feels wonderful. Your juices are dripping onto the ottoman. I am pushing hard forward and you are pushing hard back. Both in equal effort. The physics of this action now ensures we are completely still and completely linked in equilibrium of opposite forces. I am no longer moving but I am as deep as I can possibly be thanks to us pushing against one another. I can feel my cock pressing hard against your cervix. You feel full.

The power of your contractions is now overwhelming. And, because I am completely motionless, I can fully appreciate them. It feels like you are sucking my cock with your pussy. I cannot resist the compliment your body is paying to mine. So, I say, "thank you" in the most direct way I can: I cum inside you.

It is unusual that I can feel the internal pressure of my cum as it squirts out. But, I am so fully enveloped by your contractions that I can feel each squirt as it matches each of your squeezes. And, you feel each muscular pulse of my cock inside of you. You purr a happy little sound as I do. A piece of me is now a part of you. Both of us have a secret desire to say, "I love you". But we both know such a declaration is silly and very premature; more of a desire to express mutual gratitude for the pleasure given, than as a declaration of emotional connection. Wisely, we both remain silent, savoring the moment.

My body scent is all over you and in you. You now smell more like me, than yourself. I've marked you with my pheromones. You are mine to do with whatever I wish now. And you have the same thought about me. You are smitten.

I dismount you as gracefully as I can, given your rather undignified ass-in-the-air position. You casually turn around and sit on the ottoman. Your pussy makes a rather embarrassing sound as you do. We both laugh at your queef. I am still fully hard as I stand there before you. Without hesitation you lean forward and take me into your mouth briefly as if to say hello and thank you. I am surprised by this act. You have no idea how much this pleases me. So, I withdraw and kiss you. We share the taste of sex.

We climb into bed to share a single glass of Champagne with our post-coital conversation. I call room service for food and water. We really need to hydrate. We continue to snack, drink and fondle each other spontaneously over the next couple of hours as we chat. After a rather long rest, we make love again more slowly and tenderly. I don't think you actually cum again, but you look very happy when I do. You seem somewhat surprised and then very aroused when I say, "Baby open your eyes," and then I look directly into them as I cum in you.

To be continued...