That First Kiss – Part 2

I was like a kid waiting for Christmas.

You know when you’re really looking forward to something and it feels like the days are even longer and the week drags on? When the anticipation for something is so strong, you get lost in daydreams of how you’re going to feel when the moment finally happens?

That was pretty much how the week was in between that First Kiss with Jules and seeing him again.

It wasn’t all about me physically wanting him, not to diminish that feeling, because that was a big factor in my excitement. But it’s because he managed to stimulate my mind from day one. Like I said before, I wasn’t made to feel like a potential notch on his belt. And that made me really want to get his belt off.

Side Note; For the majority, women are turned on intellectually and emotionally. Physical attraction is the jumping off point, but without any type of emotional connection, guaranteed the physical stuff will fizzle and die rather quickly. And you both will be on to the next in a blink of an eye.

And that’s exactly how I’ve come to this next stage of this dating journey. Understanding that, yes, I had some pretty good sex and met some pretty decent guys. But I was never really connected with any of them.

I’m not talking about the L-word when I talk about this emotional connection. Most people assume that means being in love. I’m talking about a chemistry that forms when two people can relate, communicate their desires, be vulnerable, without feeling fear of judgment. That is a pretty awesome feeling.

Now for part 2

Finally, date night.

Jules arrives at my door carrying 2 bottles of wine – both my (current) favourite type, but different brands. He pays attention which is another big turn on. Listening, retaining and using information you’ve heard someone talk about is such an important ability to have. It builds trust, it shows that you care about what’s important to the other person.

And I’ll take a bottle of wine over flowers – any fucking day.

I let him in. I just want to kiss him to see if that spark is still there. I don’t doubt that it isn’t, but I needed to feel his kiss again. He’s thinking the same thing, obviously, because now he’s kissing me. And oh Lord, it’s still there.

I don’t even get a chance to check him out, his kiss has me flustered already.

I lead the way to the kitchen, where I get a good look at him. Shit, he looks good. Great jeans, grey dress shirt, grey vest and a black wool p-coat. Very nicely put together. His shoes are off, but I checked them out later. Black dress shoes. A+.

We were planning on starting with a glass of wine, then head out for some dinner and more drinks.

I’m trying to focus on getting glasses out of the cupboard and he’s behind me, mouth on my neck, hands exploring my shape. I can’t open the bottle. Zero strength. He reaches around and opens the bottle, more of his mouth on my neck. He turns me around, kissing me fully now. I can feel my body start to tingle. The build up to this moment has been so intense, we can’t keep our composure. He’s finally getting the full feel of my ass (pretty sure he likes it). I have a feeling we might be ordering in.

He stopped touching me long enough for me to pour the wine. And we head for the couch. He puts our glasses down on the ottoman, and leans in for some more kissing. It’s a leather ottoman, not the most level of surfaces, so sure enough the glass tips and my beautiful wine is spilling.

We jump up to get some paper towels to clean it up. As I’m bending to get all the drips, I can feel his eyes on me. He waits for me to throw away the paper towels. I’m just about to sit down and he pulls me in front of him, undoes my jeans and slides them down. He bends me over and starts licking me from behind.

Holy fuck. I’m breathless.

He makes me step out of my jeans and stands in front of me, tells me to sit on the ottoman. He’s kneeling in between my legs. He lifts my legs and pulls me down to his mouth. And just like the way he kisses my mouth, deep and full of desire, he makes me come. Not once, not twice, three fucking times. The sexual tension that’s been building finally had a release.

He stands up, pretty pleased with himself as I lay breathless on my ottoman.

“Okay, let’s go eat,” he says.