Saturday 11am I get a text from M saying ‘Good Morning’. I’m in a meeting at my favourite cafe discussing an upcoming event and I’m trying to secretly reply to him whilst maintaining a look of supreme and uninterrupted interest in what we’re discussing.
I thought I was the scaredy puss one, but it turns out it was M. We’d drunkenly agreed to meet in the afternoon - M had wanted to kidnap me - but I wasn’t sure if it would go ahead. Turns out M wasn't sure either. But fuck it, what am I here for if not to be honest and get something I am looking for? Something I want? It sounds so horribly selfish to put that in words but it’s the truth. I wanted a lover, I wanted someone in addition to T and I wanted to fuck them. M showed up and I liked him, so why should I bother beating around the proverbial bush?
I replied enthusiastically in the affirmative, and we discussed where and what time to meet. I knew vaguely of the place where he lived but hadn’t actually been there. My sense of direction in interpretive at best. We agreed and I pretended I knew where he was talking about and then dashed home for a quick and hopefully accurate de-hairing and effortless make-up applying session.
Choosing clothes to meet your first non-monogamous lover in is surprisingly difficult. I’d mentioned M to T that morning, and he’d okay’d the afternoon meet up, so I was free to race home alone and make the necessary preparations. I thought I would chance it and so wore a bra but no knickers. Then I left to meet him. I got lost on the route even though I’d walked that way a thousand times before and when I saw M and his lovely grey hoodie walk towards me my heart gave a subtle leap into my mouth and I suddenly realised how damn fucking excited I was! We kissed straight away, and although my mind registered that I should be careful who saw me, I didn’t actually care because I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong. That is quite the best thing.
We made it to his room before ripping each others’ clothes off. The quantity of alcohol consumed the night before had meant that last night’s performance hadn’t been the best for either of us but today was different. I could feel his stubble take the skin off my face, but I didn’t care, I loved it. I loved the roughness of him, the thickness of him where T was thin and his lovely Northern humour that was so different yet familiar to my own. He fucking lavished me with attention and spent most of the afternoon between my legs. When he tasted me he looked like he enjoyed it and for the first time in a really long time I wasn’t afraid of my taste. Or my smell or how he found me. I’ve been so scared of cunnilingus - god knows why when I have a very enthusiastic and kind partner at home - but today it was ok. Although having said that I’m really sensitive there and if I am being painfully honest, the gasps that he thought were of pleasure were sometimes a bit of ‘holy fuck too fucking sensitive!!!’
He seemed to love it though, which relaxed me. He made me revel in my own womanliness and although I can’t think of a single thing M said to make me feel so at ease, they are the exact words I would use to describe how I felt that afternoon. Even awkward putting-on-condom moments seemed fine, and funny and normal and not scary with him. Maybe it’s an age thing, I get the impression that being somewhat older than me (the best part of a decade) and in his particular job role, M has had quite a bit more experience than me. There were some tricky moments though, like when he couldn’t stop his body from freaking out about using a condom and he couldn’t get it up. That sort of sucked but I’m sure not nearly as much for me as it did for him. It must be totally shit to be trying to impress someone with your sexing skills only to lose your hard on. His deftness in the licking-out department hinted that this wasn’t the first time it had happened but who cares. I liked being naked with him and I liked being licked out so it was really him that was suffering.
We worked out a pattern of getting all hot and bothered - kissing and grinding each other and just about getting out shit together, and then taking a break. Getting to know each other in the most obvious way - by asking direct questions. I found myself looking at his face and stroking it with the palm of my hand. ‘So sweet’ I remember thinking. So very sweet.
I left at six, and had walked around the corner when I realised I’d left my glasses in M's room, so had to come back. His grey hoodie walked towards me again and that reassuring feeling of excitement came back as we kissed goodbye again.
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