I met Alphonso on Casual Encounters last Sunday night. I was feeling very blue and hadn’t had sex since a month ago, after some minor surgery. I posted this:
Ya Wanna? – w4m – 45
I really need to get laid tonight. It has been WAY too long. Looking for a man available tonight: attractive, well hung and cut, cologne free and somewhat dominant. Let me take your cock deeply in my throat before you plunge it into all my holes. I really need to be used hard tonight. Then you can come deep in my throat if you like that. I’m slender, long-legged, attractive to most. Write to me if you’re up for this now/soon and I’ll tell you more.
Alphonso was maybe the tenth or twelfth person to respond:
“Hi – I’m single, 40, and live nearby. Wanna grab dinner at a local restaurant, then back to my place if we click?”
This invitation brought tears to my eyes. It had been a long and lonely weekend of watching gangs of smiling people in the streets outside enjoying themselves, while I sat isolated at my desk, wishing I were part of one of these happy groups.
Despite his name, he assured me that he was a “straight-up 100% white boy.” He sent his picture – a rumpled, clothed shot taken on a bed. He looked like he’d just had sex with his clothes on. He had kind, gentle eyes and had offered this unexpected invitation, and I answered him right away.
“That’s a really generous offer. I’ve only been to that restaurant once and loved it. I’ll confess to not being the best company right now, and probably would be less than scintillating over dinner. I’m kind of in a funk, looking for a good fuck to pull me out of it. Maybe if we click, we could do dinner another time.”
We agreed that he would come by in half an hour and would bring some beer. It must have been close to ten when he arrived. I waited in my doorway as he came up the stairs, looking at me hard. I asked him if he was checking me out, and if I passed muster. “I’m just making sure you’re comfortable with me,” he said. He continued to look at me as he took off his shoes, and I turned my back under his scrutiny and led him down the hall to my living room. The lights and music were low. We sat together on the couch and I offered a beer.
In our volley of emails, he had said that he was a Psychology major and might be able to help me with my blues. This when I’d asked only for a fuck. I thought I was looking to be tossed around a bit and fucked hard, then left to stew in my own juices (so to speak). But here was someone offering not only dinner but a listening ear. That doesn’t happen often on Casual Encounters.
We must have talked for at least two hours. I told him things I’ve never told anyone – not even here in this blog. Childhood horrors, adolescent misdeeds, post-divorce shenanigans. He shared lots from his life too: the history of some of his relationships (he’s fresh out of a five-year one) and stuff from his troubled growing-up years. At some point I moved closer to him and he put his arm around me. He gently traced up and down my arm as we talked, and eventually leaned in to kiss me. I tried to turn away, self-conscious about my cigarette breath (I wouldn’t kiss me) and generally uncomfortable with anything as intimate as kissing. “My mouth tastes like an ashtray. Besides, I don’t really know how to make out,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “How can that be?”
“I haven’t cared enough about someone to kiss and cuddle them in forever. I just suck and fuck and say goodbye.” The last person I kissed was little Justin, who would kiss me hard then grab my hair and pull my head down to his lap. The last person I had kissed in tenderness was Zion, five years ago.
After more kissing and exploration of one another’s bodies through our clothes, we adjourned to my bedroom. I had lit candles earlier and the room was bathed in their warm light. We took off our clothes, and he continued to kiss me, first gently, then with a bit more insistence. I lay back on the bed, allowing his hands to explore my body. I grew wet under his fingers. I reached for his cock, my mouth watering in anticipation. He was hard and I couldn’t wait to get him in my throat.
Our sex was good – gentler than I’m accustomed to, and more soothing than the aggressiveness I thought I wanted that night. He nuzzled and nibbled my neck. He softly nursed my nipples that have grown accustomed to hard pinching and twisting. I had to concentrate hard to feel his lips on them, but once I did, I appreciated the subtleness of this stimulation. He ran his fingers softly through my hair rather than pulling it. And we fucked face to face with open eyes – so frightening for me. I usually keep them closed, to keep a safe distance from any real intimacy, I guess. We fucked that way for a bit, then I flipped over to hands and knees. His cock isn’t as big as I have come to need, but he reached deeper this way. “I really want to fuck your ass,” he said. I found lube and we fucked that way for a time.
Eventually he came in my mouth, pulling away before filling me with his come, not holding my head down the way Mr. Wrong always did. After, we went back to the living room so I could smoke, and spent another hour or so talking. It was quite late by the time he left, and I slept well that night.
We ended up connecting again the following night, for more conversation and better sex. He stayed until nearly four, when I told him I didn’t think I knew him well enough yet to invite him to spend the night. I haven’t let another man into – rather than onto – my bed in five years either.
He invited me to dinner Friday night, and picked me up at my door, again something I’m not used to. A real date on our third meeting, not just another casual encounter. I was girlishly excited all afternoon and changed my clothes several times before settling on skinny jeans and my favorite black sweater. After a delicious meal at a vegetarian restaurant we returned to my place, where we talked into the wee hours. He is willing to talk about sensitive subjects, and I am getting to know both his history and some of his feelings around childhood experiences. “I’m tired. I think we should take off our clothes and get in my bed and see what happens,” I said.
In my bedroom, I pulled back the covers and we climbed in together. I turned my back to him and felt his body warm against my back and legs. His arm reached around me, and with fingers entwined we together cupped my right breast. We eventually dropped off to sleep together.
In the morning we shared coffee then went out to eat. We walked in step together the nine blocks to the restaurant. We returned to my place and hung in relaxed companionship and conversation. I joined him where he was comfortably stretched out on my couch, taking a seat at the opposite end and draping my legs over his. He began to run his fingers softly up and down my legs, bare under a short skirt on the warm day. Eventually his fingers crept up and under the skirt to gently circle my clit through my panties. “You want sex, don’t you,” I said. I smiled at him in amusement. We spent a luxurious hour exploring each other again, until he left around four to help a friend move.
I am out of my element.