The Presumptuous Picnic

I had a picnic yesterday.  With a boy.  His name will be Carter.

First, though, a little something:

Due to a sense that this gentleman is of Fine Upstanding Moral Character, seems trustworthy, good, and kind, I did something a little different.  (Ok, another reason is that I wanted to share my herpes information/story with him and wasn't sure I was receiving an amorous vibe from him so I figured what the hell.)

I gave him the address to my blog.

It is scary because this is my little Hope Chest for all my deepest darkest insecurities and secrets.  It's also a little comforting because I know he knows everything, and is still willing to give it a go.  (This, of course, is under the tremendously vain assumption that he's read at least a month or two into this blog and has gotten  feel for me.)

It is, most currently, entirely unnerving, because I want to write my innermost thoughts about him, and it is strange for him to know those things.  My solution is this:  I will assume sweet Carter has glanced at this blog briefly, satisfied his curiosity, become bored, and will never return.  If not, I hope that he will behave as though he has, thus freeing me to write without censorship.

See what I did there?

So let me tell you about Carter.  He and I were to meet, back in January.  I got the herp, my shit fell apart, and I canceled on him.  He was tremendously kind and understanding, so much that I spilled my Big Secret to him and he responded with incredibly encouraging wisdom and support.  He fell off the radar for a little while while I stuck myself back together and recently, resurfaced inexpectedly.  I asked if he'd like to meet, and last week we met for milkshakes and a shared slice of carrot cake at my favorite diner.

First impression: He was quite attractive. His manner was calm, confident, and kind. We talked for a few hours, about ourselves, our kinks (he is about 4,000 times more experienced and involved in kink than me) and the poly scene. He is poly, and had mentioned other people in his life, though I was unclear about what he had with them and what he was looking for.

He was funny, and smart.  He was open-minded and extremely comfortable discussing his sexuality.  He is a big advocate of STI safety, and writes charming articles and manifestos about it.  Swoon.  He's also big on consent, which I find to be a HUGE turn-on.  More on that later.

When it was time to go I got all blushy and awkward, because I couldn't tell what kind of a meeting this was- date?  Purely theoretical discussion?  I said a giggly goodbye and flounced to my car.  I headed over to Charlotte's and recounted the evening to her in whispers as her sweet, though blessedly unaware husband puttered in and out of the room.  She said I seemed excited, and hoped more would come.  Me too.

I got home to about 4 emails including links to different things we had talked about, ending with this delicious one:

By the way… on an addendum…  I tend to be blunt sometimes…   I don't care about HSV-1.  I'd totally risk it to make out with you. :)             –Carter

I squeaked, and glowed.

We met the other day for a picnic.  I could moon over the tasty foods we both brought, but I'm short on time.  He brought me to a gorgeous open field with high grasses and lay down a picnic blanket.  We ate and chatted for a little while, and then he kissed me.  You know how sometimes you just fit with someone's kissing style, and you find your groove quickly and then it's like you've been making out together for months?  It was like that.  I asked him what he was looking for.  He said he likes playing (fucking) with lots of people, but only really falls in love with one person.   He said he was looking for a long-term committed relationship with one person, and to still be poly.  Interesting.  In a good way.  My gears started to turn.

He was flirty and suggestive calm and confident and I melted into a pile of mush.  I felt a little silly that I couldn't be more reciprocal but I could barely manage to look him in the eye, let alone engage in witty and/or sexy banter.  I think the blood rush to my cheeks had an effect on my brain…  I didn't mind, though.  He pulled my hair aside and kissed and nibbled on my neck.  "I won't mark you," he whispered.  Goosebumps flooded my body and I thought I was going to pop.  My pussy throbbed.

We ate a little more- I had brought a little trifle for dessert.  Roommates Andy and Carlos had accused me of being presumptuous in bringing one to share.  I think they just wanted me to leave one home for them.  I did.  I got out 2 spoons but Carter told me to put one away.  He fed me spoonfuls of blueberries and cake and cream and I blushed madly and looked into his eyes, as I opened my mouth, dying to submit to him.

Soon enough he was closer, whispering filthy fantasies in my ear and checking in with me about my turn-ons and limits.  I mentioned how I was feeling exposed in giving him the blog info, but he chuckled and said it was like a user's manual.

He slid his hand up my arm, kissing my lips.

"Is this ok?" he asked.  I nodded and smiled into his lips.  He kissed me more, biting at my lip.

"Do you like to have your hair pulled?"

"Yes," I whispered.  He slid his hand up my scalp and gripped my hair tightly.  Fuck.

He kept asking permission for everything.  His hand would trail lightly near my breast and he would whisper, "Is this ok?"  I found it INSANELY sexy.  As much as I love feeling like someone's helping themselves to me, I felt like Carter was being so careful and gentle and was so invested in my experience.  I wanted everything and it was an excruciating want and he dragged it out ever so slightly.  I couldn't help but breathe heavily.  I wanted to tear my clothes off and give myself to him, however he wanted me.  I was almost paralyzed with desire, and couldn't bear to move away from whatever he was doing, however he was touching me, whatever he was saying.

I lay down and he was on top of me, kissing me.  His hand grabbed my wrist hard, holding me down.  It had been forever since anyone held me like that, and his force  was firm.  I curled my legs up around him, hugging him to my body.  We were both fully clothed- jeans and all- but he glanced around, made sure we were alone, looked me straight in the eye, and slowly humped the fuck out of me.  I could tell we would have great sex.  I tilted my hips up toward him, wanting him against my g-spot in my mind.  He growled and I giggled and kissed him harder.

"Wider."  He growled.  I spread my legs apart further and he drove into me, the firm bulge in his pants pressing the seam of my jeans against my clit.

"Good girl."  Fuck.  I was entirely blinded by the sun above us.  I submitted to everything- the crazy situation, the blinding light, the incredibly sexy man between my legs holding my wrists down next to my head.

"I want to make you come so badly," I said.  I didn't say it on purpose- it just kind of came out.  He chuckled and devoured my neck.

Later we were lying side by side, talking- he on his back and me on my side, curled against him.  My hand brushed his chest and he arched back dramatically, mouth agape.  I giggled and he recovered, explaining that he has extremely sensitive nipples.  I watched him intently, a curious and intrigued smile on my face, as I traced over them again with my hand.  Gently he took my hand and slid it inside his shirt, where I circled his nipples as softly as I could and watched him squirm.  I loved being able to see his pleasure so clearly- not many men moan and groan so easily.

My dreaded phone alarm went off, signaling that it was time for me to go back to work.  We had been in the field for a few hours, and I wanted to stay the rest of the afternoon.  He stood and I knelt, gathering up picnic debris.  Suddenly he grabbed my hair hard and threw me face down on the picnic blanket.  I groaned with pleasure and he grabbed my hips roughly, pulling them up.  In an instant he was kneeling behind me, grinding into my ass.  I gasped and turned my head to the side.  Still pushing against me, he bent down so his mouth was at my ear and growled.

"Please may I see you again?" I gasped.  He laughed and intertwined his fingers with mine.

"Yes.  Definitely."  He kissed my face.  I smiled, mouth wide, panting hard.

"Tell me this, though," he growled.  (He always growls.  I love it.)  "Were you imagining me fucking you right now?"

I whimpered, and nodded.

"Where?"

Jesus.  I was soaked.

"My ass," I whispered.

"Good girl."  He kissed me, pushed against me once more, and helped me up.

I couldn't stop kissing him- didn't want to.  I stayed kneeling at his feet and he came down to kiss me.  He pulled my shirt down to the side.  "How low is ok?"  he asked.

"Wherever you want," I murmured, drunk on his energy.  He laughed.

"That's dangerous," he said.  Suddenly he bit my shoulder, hard.  Really fucking hard.  I squealed and then whimpered and then groaned and squirmed as he held on.  I suddenly realized he had been asking how low he could mark me.  It hurt like fuck, like some super sexy vampire, and I felt a surge of erotic pain like i had never felt before.  Finally he let go and I crumpled to him, holding him tight around the stomach, desperate to nestle.

The Chef pointed out once that the harder he hurts me, the more cuddly I become.  It's true.  Carter held me, gently stroked my hair, till I was able to move again.

We did a tick check (most fun tick check ever) and headed to the parking lot.  My underwear was entirely soaked and my jeans squished as I walked.  My pussy throbbed and pulsed.

He kissed me a happy goodbye and I didn't want to go.

At the first stop light on my way home, I pulled down the neck of my shirt and looked in the reflection of my rear view mirror at the already purple bruise covering my shoulder.  I looked at my cheeks- flushed with sun and excitement.

I want more. 

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