Finally, She Fucks

Has anyone been wondering where I am?  I've been pretty lost.  My sex life is largely dead with the departure of Mr. Wrong.  And I've been kind of lost in general, even considered leaving San Francisco.  I've often thought that I really need regular sex to keep myself on an even keel, and I sure haven't had that of late.  I did, however, find a hot fuck on Craigslist today.

Much cuter than his picture, with amazing bright blue eyes, Brock arrived exactly when he said he would.  Two others had flaked on me today, so his prompt arrival was welcome.   We spent a good 45 minutes talking.  He's from the southeast, like so many of my reliable friends here.  Conversation was lively if uninspired.  His travel, his allergies, his job change.  I told him very little about me, and nothing about this blog, my book or my adventures on Craigslist.

After our conversation, which slipped ever so slightly into our respective sexual predilections, he leaned in to kiss me.  I could feel him trembling, and asked him right away if he was scared.  He said not scared but a little nervous, that this was "the first time he'd done anything like this."  I believed him.  Just back from many years abroad, his experience with Craigslist was very limited.

The kisses weren't working for me.  He was too tentative for my taste.  I pulled back.  "I'm going to stop for a minute here. As attractive as I find you, this just isn't working for me."  His expression didn't change; he was hard to read.  "Would you describe yourself as a dominant man in the bedroom?" I asked.

"Yes, I would say so," he said.

"Well that's a good thing."  I went briefly to the kitchen for water, and returned to straddle him there on my couch.  He nestled his face firmly between my breasts and things progressed very nicely from there.  Kissing someone I don't know well is hard for me.  It's a more personal connection than just fucking, for this girl, anyway.

We graduated to the bedroom after it became clear we were headed for sex.  "I am a very messy girl," I told him as we headed down the hall.  It takes very little to get me to squirt, and I had prepared my bed with waterproof sheets in anticipation of just that.

What followed was a remarkable testament to his fitness level, gained through regular water polo.  He fucked me hard and fast from behind for at least fifteen minutes.  I gripped the rails of the bed for resistance as he pounded me, pausing every few minutes to press hard and deep against my cervix, until he was drenched in sweat that dripped onto my ass and back. Reaching around to touch his hip and leg, I met sweaty slipperiness that added to my excitement.

I came several times, as I do when I'm fucked hard, but he couldn't get himself there.  I invited him to finish in my mouth, and we tried there for a bit, but he would get almost there, then back away again.  Finally he pulled away and went for a towel.  His hair and upper body were soaked.  He mopped up and I offered my shower, but he said he wanted to beat the rush hour traffic and get out of the city soon.

I wasn't sure as he left if I'd see him again, wondering if whatever stopped him had something to do with me.  But a few emails after assured me that he enjoyed himself and would like to come back.  Perhaps I've found a new fuck buddy.

Wonder if he plays Scrabble.  Now that would be hot.

Republished with permission from Liz Doherty. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.