Dating,  Personal

Quaintrelle – New FWB, new words and breaking of droughts.

So yesterday I had a date of sorts. With someone I met off OKC. The first date I’ve been on since I got back from the States and post break up with Loki.

We’d chatted a while but we never really got to the point of meeting before until I messeged him last week asking how he was as he’d been quiet for a while and being the gentle soul that I am was worried. He said he was good and that he was glad he heard from me. He gave me his number and said to message him on there. Done deal, we talked a bit, we sexted a bit, he thought my denial of wanting cock pictures was interesting – instead I had him send me pictures that engaged my mind. Half glimpses, moulds, curves in pants. It gets me hotter than a cock shot let me tell you. Coupled with his teasing me over messages made for an interesting few days leading up to our date.

He asked if I was serious about all the sexting talking. Did I put out on the first date? I laughed. Usually no, no I don’t. But we aren’t dating to become long-term lovers and build a partnership together. We were meeting for me to judge him in regards to him being a FWB. Entirely different ballgame! But I said that I didn’t usually, however to be fair, there were a few men that figured out my buttons pretty early and I may have ended up jumping their bones. But usually no, it waits for the 3rd date or more.

We’d gone over the ins and outs of what we were wanting and expecting. I was clear that I was only after a FWB thing. I don’t have the emotional capacity to offer more at this point in my life. He said that’s good because that’s all he can pretty much offer too.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. I was so nervous I was at the point of sitting hugging the toilet bowl because I was going to throw up.

For some reason my nerves are never based on how attractive a person is, it’s how much they’ve engaged my brain, I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m very much a sapiosexual right? Well I am. And this guy engaged my brain, he was smart, articulate and was finding buttons that made me a panting wet mess within 5 seconds with just words in a text message. Granted I’ll also affix some blame here to someone sending me other pictures via email that also added to my highly aroused state the day before but that’s another story.

So while I stood pacing around the house like a caged lion, my house mate laughed at my nerves and when our security buzzer went off I flapped at it for 3 rings before picking it up and letting him into the building, I didn’t even get out anything more than a hello and I’ll open the door then hung up. I forgot to say “wait I’ll come down and get you” or “don’t get lost in the garage”. I squawked at the buzzer I’d just hung up and rushed off to go save him. Yes, my housemate was still at the dryer laughing at my antics.

I ran downstairs to save him from our car park of hell and brought him up so I could grab my wallet and keys so we could head out to get coffee.

We went to my local and sat down and talked. And talked. And talked. At least we didn’t run out of things to say. He termed me as a quaintrelle. I admit I had no idea what he was gibbering about so I had to look it up on my phone. Thanks google!


I thought it was sweet of him to say – I try to be, some days I succeed, other days I fail miserably. But I figure that’s life right?

Anyway, we ate, we drank, we chatted a lot. My arse was sticking to the wooden seat in my dress so I asked him if he’d finished and would like to head back. He said yes and we got up and paid our separate bills and off we went. He chatted, I chatted. I wondered at his being so tall and if he could see down every girl’s cleavage. These are the types I things I think about, only because I get distracted by my cleavage on a regular basis. I couldn’t imagine being that tall and seeing everyone else’s!! How do tall men function?!

We got home and we had a chat about my bags and bags of rope. I started to condition some as he laid back on my bed and watched me kneeling on the bed playing with my ropes. He said I painted a pretty picture. I said thank you. He said my crawling around on the bed in my dress was giving him glimpses of things that were perking his interest. I asked him if he’d like me to crawl some more….

I finished conditioning my rope and laid down as we chatted. At one point ran his hand up and down my calf and I may have held my breath. When his hand travelled a bit higher to my thigh, I literally felt my breath catch and when it travelled all the way back down to my calf again I exhaled – my body, the traitor, started to shake softly as his hand moved up over my hip and his fingers trailed along the curve in my side before going down back over my hip. He looked bemused at my reaction, so I blushed like a little school girl and hid my face because I could feel myself blushing. Oh yes, I’m lil miss seductress of win, I am.

He asked me why I was hiding as he watched my face closely. I hid again. I felt like a butterfly pinned to a board and being asked intrusive questions. I said I don’t know why I’m having this reaction and it’s making me feel shy. He laughed and said it’s been a long while hasn’t it? And thinking back, it had been. The last time I’d been touched by a lover with such gentle caresses was 9 months ago.

9 long months of no human contact in a sexual nature. His large hand kept travelling over my legs, my dressed hip. My body kept trembling as his skin made contact with mine and I could feel my body wanting more contact. He must have read my mind because he wrapped his large hand around my calf and dragged me into him so that he could kiss me. I think I moaned. I love being man handled. This man has great hands for man handling – my hands are literally miniscule compared to his hands.

We kissed, we teased, we came together rather hard. The next thing I know between the hard breaths, the hands and the kissing is that I’m sitting on top of him. I grind down. He has too many clothes on. He obviously thought the same thing about me because my dress was ripped up over my head before I could finish the thought and he was enjoying my bountiful bosom. The rest of our clothes came off rather quickly and I hadn’t realised how, well, endowed he really was.

You see I really am a small lass. Things are tiny, he wasn’t tiny. Oh no. But I wasn’t complaining. Before I knew it I was impaled and it felt glorious. 9 months and I could have sworn I heard a heavenly choir. Or at least it was my cunt singing.

Either way we spent the next 12 hours fucking. We stopped for a quick feed and went back to it.

The man has stamina! He kept going. I was impressed. Especially since my cervix got such a pounding that I bled everywhere. Obviously doggy was going to be a wee bit of a challenge to have him avoid smashing my insides up to bleeding point. That’s ok, if anything we had a hella lot of showers and my bed started to look a bit like what I imagine an abattoir floor would look like so I changed the sheets. So many showers, so many orgasms. After about 9 hours I was having trouble staying vertical. He didn’t mind.

We ended in a position that didn’t make me bleed out and where I thought I was going to implode if I had another single orgasm. Yet they kept coming. He wouldn’t stop. Slow and steady does amazing things for rolling orgasms. I was begging him that I couldn’t get another one out, he was telling me I could. Damn the man, he was right. We finished with him coming and me at the same time. It was pretty spectacular. The more he twitched inside me from his orgasm the more I squeaked and involuntarily clenched. He found it amusing. I found it highly confusing for I was sure if he kept it up I would be orgasming again.

We had our last shower as my housemate came home. He had a moment earlier in the evening when he recognised her picture on my phone from the facebook messenger bubble. He said she looked familiar and wondered if he’d talked to her on OKC. I said that’s a possibility as she’s on there too. He looked through his messages and found that they were meant to meet for coffee and never did because he had a few things blow up in his face and he felt rather bad about it. He did, however, turn a bright shade of red which made me laugh insanely. There’s always about 2 degrees of separation in the Sydney Kink Scene as he’s starting to learn rather rapidly!

All in all though, the droughts! They be broken!! HORRAY!

And in such style. I would have preferred less of the chain saw massacre but maybe next time we can figure that big out better.

Today I have muscles hurting that I had forgotten I’d owned and I feel sated. Somewhat.

Hello, dear mojo, I’d missed you!


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