Why Did I Wait So Long 2

This was a true story one of my girlfriends told me about her current man. I know him too and have enjoyed his company in a more intimate way than she knows, though before she 'had' him. It was delicious hearing her journey and seduction knowing them both as I do. I have written the story as her account rather than my re-telling of it.

Davy, well his parents anyway, used to be a neighbours of my parents, so I guess I could say I had known him since I was about six years old. He is a bit older than me, about five or six years, so as kids we had nothing to do with each other.

As we got older and moved away, occasionally I would see him on his folks' driveway fixing a car or doing some handiwork for them. I would speed by in my sports car, all hair and attitude, as you would expect from a cool young woman like me, but still he always gave out a gentle wave of acknowledgement, this in turn accompanied by a lovely warm smile.

He always seemed to be smiling - looking back it is how I see his face on every one of those fleeting moments that our eyes met. That last line sounded like I had a thing for him or that there was a flicker of attraction, but there wasn't - it was just being neighbourly. In all of this time I can't recall a single conversation with him, not even a passing line.

As you do though, when having a catch up with the folks, from time to time the enquiries of 'How is such and such?' would flit across his family and Davy himself. Again I recall now that there was always a story about him, that he was doing something like travelling to exotic lands, achieving something like climbing mountains or winning trophies and doing great in business, always his own. It made a refreshing change to have someone from this small time town seemingly determined, as I was, to get away and do something with their lives.

It never occurred to me at the time that he always seemed to have girlfriends that were really attractive. The thing is, he is a really regular looking guy. He dressed in workwear most of the time, and to be honest wouldn't get a second look in a bar from my girlfriends. Yet looking back, the girls, all of whom seem to stick around for a few months, even a couple of years, were from the top end of the cute range. He was banging the fittest local girl for years until she headed to uni never to be seen again.

Move forward several years and this cameo was played out time and again. I was in relationships and so, according to the gossip from my mother, was he. Looks change and I don't think I would have even recognised him in the street if he had walked by. Eventually came the news that he had got married to the really fit glamorous blonde I had seen him with over the last couple of years.

I was going through my phase of being impressed by big beefy guys, preferably black (that whole black cock in slender white girl still does it for me) ones with big muscles and usually ego's to match, though with vanity and brain cells that fitted the stereotype. No matter to me, a successful business woman, money in my pocket, trendy flat in town, social life to die for, holidays galore, body in great shape, but despite this, my relationships with men were down the crapper. Looking back it was clearly the wrong bloke, the wrong type again and again.

By now in my mid thirties, I was in a relationship that was absolutely rubbish with a bloke who charmed me then turned out to be the biggest boring Mummy's boy you could ever meet. I have a high sex drive and it was not being anywhere near met.

What was wrong with him? I'm petite, slim, long blonde ('dirty' of course) hair, 32D tits and an ass to die for (which I love to have plundered by a big hard cock once I'm lubed and ready). I masturbate really often. I have finger fucked myself in almost every situation you can imagine and no night in is complete with out a session with my big pink rabbit!

This dickless wanker I was living with was so threatened by my sexual needs he hated to see me play with myself in front of him - he turned out to be just like all the other local lads who just wanted to drink to much, chase skirt, then never do anything about it. I reckon if he had ever brought one back, I probably would have fucked her too once the situation had presented itself to me. I rarely say no to any form of sexual gratification...

So why was I getting so upset about this? Looking back he was a waste of space, a total loser, but I guess I hated the fact it was me he was taking for granted. As always, I was out there looking for a new thing, a pastime or hobby to challenge me and give me a boost in self esteem and I decided to try a real male bastion sport and took some shooting lessons. Not many black guys there, but some wealthy landed types. Okay, I wasn't there to meet guys, but the attention I got was welcome.

I took to it pretty well and decided I would stick at it. The boyfriend showed no interest, so all the better and I continued my lessons. One morning I was watching some guys shoot and the guy next to me started to pass the time of day with me. He definitely wasn't hitting on me, just being really pleasant with a lovely warm smile and an articulate, witty line of conversation.

We had probably been chatting for about twenty minutes when he said

'I'm so sorry I haven't introduced myself. I'm Davy.'

'Kellie' I replied.

He asked me where I lived and when I said where I was from, but that I was originally from my folks' town, he drew a bigger smile and said 'You didn't used to drive a Boxster about ten years ago did you?' I had done. 'No way...you used to live two doors away from me for years and years!'.

Sure enough it was the very same neighbour I knew of all that time. This was his hobby and he was bloody good at it. Our conversation moved easily on and as it became time to leave it was a sure thing that we had to meet up again.

He gave me his number and wouldn't take mine. 'I don't want to be pushy as I am sure a pretty girl like you is always getting numbers off guys - so here is mine - I'd love to meet up for a continued chat, but it's your call entirely.'

This was a revelation - he had read the situation perfectly and left me feeling in charge. Nothing could be further from he truth. I couldn't have helped myself even if I wanted to. So it was me who rang him - the next day. Here I was, 37 years old and like a little schoolgirl.

Over lunch a couple of days later, a good restaurant, a good wine and better conversation that just ran and ran, I established that he was separated from the blonde after six years of marriage. I explained that I was coming out of a relationship and so it was easy for us both to make an easy appointment for dinner at his house on Saturday coming. I felt so safe around him, his confidence so reassuring but not bragging, his manners easy but polite.

As I turned up that Saturday having gone through the motions at another date that lunchtime (I get asked out a lot), the contrast between the lunchtime lothario, all smart shoes and threads, perfect hair and no interest, and this balding, slightly overweight but fabulously interesting man was like night and day. It was like an epiphany, with my buttons being pressed in ways that they had not for years. I realised how interesting I could be when I had someone to work with to be interesting with.

Hours flew by and so did the bottles of white wine. There was no way I was driving anywhere. His spare bed was offered and accepted in a moment. The next morning I found myself still in the company of this amazing guy but lunchtime was delivering yet another date and it was time to leave, reluctantly.

Our friendship developed quickly from here. He was trying to sort out his personal life, I was trying to sort mine. I have lots of friends who took my side, told me how lucky my man was to have me, how he was a bastard to waste me, and give me specific advice on staying/leaving/fucking around or whatever.

Davy's words were by far the best. He always tried to give the other view, what men thought, what my man might be thinking, but never ever told me to do anything specific. He said I was smart enough to work it out for myself. He said he wouldn't want his own chances with me to be spoilt by being a contributor to the end of my relationship.

'Wouldn't want to spoil his own chances' - those words hung with me - hearing them I was forced to admit to myself that if at that moment he had turned to me and said, 'Leave him for me' I would have done so in the blink of an eye. In a single second I knew that of all the men that I had stumbled across, he was the most seductive personality I had ever met. His physical appearance was almost irrelevant now. I wanted him.

It would be months before I was able to engineer the perfect opportunity. By now my man was an ex, as were several others who had tried and failed to eclipse this friend I had found. A weekend walking was left to me to arrange as he was busy with work. I picked a fabulous place, great food, great accommodation and one large double bed.

By now we had shared a bed several times, but no moves were made, I think both of us frightened to make a move save we lost what we had. This time I would leave him no doubt that I wanted him as more than a friend. I couldn't believe that as someone so usually up front about getting fucked, I had let this take so long.

One of the things that had held me back was wondering what it was that made these other girls leave him? Why had his wife finally walked out like the serious girlfriends he had had before? I thought I knew why they wanted to be with him, his varied life, his ideas and drive. But why leave? His answer was that he was always unswaying in his determination to succeed at whatever it was he was doing or trying to do. I could see that steely glint in his eye, but I had it too, so it was easy to recognise. I had scared men off because of that in the past.

So here we were, dropping bags in the hotel room, him not batting an eye when he saw a bed for two in the room. The thing was, this was the first time in a hotel for us. Previously it had been at each others houses, but now we were getting ready for dinner after a hard days walking in the same area as the en-suite shower which leant me the perfect excuse to walk round wrapped in a towel and for me to watch him undress down to his underwear to shower himself.

And that is when I saw it. When we had shared before, there had always been PJ's, always been the lamps off, look away discretion of friends respecting privacy rather than the lustful glimpses of lovers to be. Now I was the latter and he was making no attempt to hide anything more than he would on the beach. And there, with tight walking pants stretched over it, was a huge bulge. My mind was racing. It was all I could do not to just reach over and heave them down there and then. He headed for the shower.

Fuck, I wanted him now. Yes, his conversation was excellent, but god if he could use his cock the way he seemed to be good at everything else he tried, I had found out why those fit girls from his past had stayed with him. Dinner would wait. I couldn't. It was like every hormone in my body sprung to action, every nerve end sparked to life.

I heard the shower start to run and instead of getting dressed I walked forward to the bathroom door. I took a couple of deep breaths and remembered my confident forward old self and decided that it was time he saw me in action like that. I pushed the door gently open and there he was, back to me, under the shower.

He half turned and saw me, and all I could think to do was drop the towel to the floor and give him his first sight of my aching hard breasts, my shaved pussy and all the flesh he would need to feast on tonight. He turned fully and stealing a glimpse at the flaccid member hanging there, I reached my arms around his neck and began the deepest kiss I could summon.

As we broke what seemed like minutes later he simply whispered 'So good, so beautiful. Thank you.' It betrayed how much he wanted this as much as I did, how much he longed for this kind of intimacy. There was no longer any need to hold back for fear of embarrassment or upset.

I reached down and began to pull on that gorgeous cock. It was the perfect size, my hand stretched to reach round and meet, its length growing to at least eight and probably nine inches as it quickly reached hardness. This was the most gorgeous cock I had ever had my hands on - big and hard but part of a man I knew I loved more deeply and trusting than any in my life.

But this was no moment for slow, quiet reflection, soft romance and too gentle a touch. This was a certain animal need, a longing to show him just how good I could be as the female foil to his masculinity, how my self confidence in an area I excelled could allow him to be the man he truly was. For sure it was for me to take the lead for a little while longer, to urge him on then let him show me what he could do.

In true porno style I dropped to my knees, clutching his gorgeous member. I took in one good look at it and one good smell of his clean but still musky scent, the one that every girl knows triggers the knowledge that it is time to lube up as a fucking is coming...

In a flash I began to caress and stroke his cock, teasing the head with the tip of my tongue. A swipe up the underside with the flat of it and I sensed his gasp for breath followed by the first 'Oh my God' that trailed away as he felt my mouth engulf the gorgeous circumcised head. Within a few seconds I felt that same head pushing against the back of my throat - my inner slut opened right up for him and went to work, hands and mouth drawing him in then releasing him only to start again immediately.

His control was impressive - more than one conquest has gone no further than filling my throat with a load by this point. His breathing was heavy and at times stuttering, the perfect compliment to my work. I was loving it but soon he gently pulled free before reaching down and lifting me back to a kiss, with a firm '...my turn...', then turning and lifting me up onto the bench.

His hands played across my breasts, fingers gently but confidently pinching my swollen nipples. I like a bit of rough play so made sure he knew I could take it. The kiss was broken again, this time by him as he bent his head down to suckle and chew those very same nipples that were positively screaming for it. First a teasing tongue, then a firm lick, nibbling kisses all around them and then a proper gripping hand and a bite down - my god I thought I was going to cum there and then. My head was back and I could have been screaming by now for all I knew - I was in ecstasy, the state of mind where a girl just has to let it happen and it just keeps getting better and better.

My mind was racing, dozens of thoughts about love and lust, friendship and fucking, all of them concluding that the man now gorging his pent up lust on my body was The One, the man I had been waiting all my life for, and all this time he had been right under my nose...

His hands slipped behind my arse, pulling me forward to the edge of the bench unit. One hand came up and pushed my shoulder back, lewdly offering my cunt (that is what it was at that moment, nothing 'nicer') to him. First a finger slid through my channel, ass to clit, opening me up, exposing the heat and wetness inside. It more gently brought more of my juices up onto my clit, deftly flicking across it with a touch so rare in the men I had indulged with my sex.

It can only have been seconds before he had me on the brink of orgasm, my thighs shaking uncontrollably, his mouth still hard against mine as I tried to bite my bottom lip and hold on for a minute longer. It was no use, his skilful touch telling me there was no need to wait. He was right of course - I can cum again and again if I want to so I took this opportunity for that first cum with my head buried in the nape of his neck, my body welded to his.

He kissed me softly on the forehead which made me look up to his face again. He kissed my lips then did something that took me totally by surprise by tracing his fingers across my lips, smearing them with the taste of my own cum. Not that I minded one bit. This man had a rude side to him and he was letting me know. I had told him so much about my little kinks that he clearly felt he needed to show me he was up to it.

I was lifted down, but this was not the end of it. I was transported to the bed and thrown onto my back. With a smile he looked away and descended to my pussy. Those same nibbling kisses from my breasts were used on my inner thighs, my lower stomach before the tip of a tongue began to trail its way around the entrance to my vagina, dip inside then be replaced by a single digit gently inserted into me while that same tongue moved north and back to my recovering clit.

What came next was me, so quickly it was unreal. Suddenly I was back on my plateau, orgasm building rapidly. The finger inside was teasing my G-spot, his spare ring finger, resting and playing around my asshole which all heightened the pleasure of his tongue flicking across my clit. The thing was this orgasm wasn't just one and gone, but one after the other, each rolling into the next pushing me further and further out of control to a point where I was almost unaware of anything else around me.

After an age he slowly let me down from this amazing high, withdrawing his fingers, moving his tongue to my pussy lips and then up my body and once again to that deep cunt juice flavoured kiss. I should have guessed he was not going to stop there though, and neither did I want him to.

I guess at this point I must have muttered some words that may have made no sense at all, but at least I tried to gasp how good this was, how much I wanted him, how much I wanted that big cock of his inside me. I could feel the head pushing insistently at my opening and tried to force myself down onto it under his weight. He was having none of that and continued to just tease me by slipping the merest tip inside, just enough for me to feel my hole beginning to open, then as I tried again to push onto it, he held me tight and eased back.

Then there it was again, that warm, closed mouth smile, that smile I had seen for years and years, that smile that had moved from a friendly 'Hi' to the devilish 'You are mine now' in just a few erotic filled minutes of my life. As our eyes locked, he finally pushed and kept pushing, slowly, with certainty and purpose. So slow and subtle was his movement, so wet was my pussy from his stimulations, that I was easily able to take all of him in that one long movement.

The thing was, it wasn't the physical sensations I was acutely aware of, it was the fact that his stare never left my eyes, and mine in turn never blinked. It was as if we both realised this moment was one to be remembered for ever and that he was searching my very soul to check I felt the same. I did, I did...

Once totally filling me, his eyes slowly closed and looked down between our bodies as if to check we were really fucking. We most certainly were and soon all gentleness was thrown away and we were rutting like beasts, him on top, me on top his hands mauling my swollen tits, then him behind me ripping into me like a starving man at a loaf of bread. This was raw, needy and lust filled. It was fantastic and I was rewarding him with more cum than I had ever produced before.

Switching to him back on top, I saw his cock covered in my cream, so much of it you would have thought it was me who was spunking. His control had been immense, but now I wanted him to have his cum. It was simple, so simple, as if he was just waiting to hear my consent. With a simple 'Cum inside me', he lasted perhaps a dozen more strokes before giving me his full load deep in my pussy.