I have never told anyone the full truth about that night until now. It sits inside me like a secret that still makes my skin flush when I let myself remember. I was thirty-two, living alone in a small apartment above a noisy street, convinced I had outgrown the kind of hunger that makes your hands shake. Then he appeared at the gallery opening where I was pretending to care about abstract paintings.
He was taller than I expected when he finally crossed the room. Dark hair, a quiet smile, and eyes that stayed on mine a second longer than polite. We talked about nothing for twenty minutes, the kind of small talk that barely covers the electricity building underneath. When he asked if I wanted to leave, I said yes before I could talk myself out of it.
The walk to his place was only three blocks, but every step felt heavier with anticipation. Inside his apartment the lights were low, the air cool against my bare arms. He poured two glasses of water and set them down without drinking. Then he stepped close enough that I could smell the faint cedar on his skin.
Ive been thinking about touching you since you walked in, he said, voice low.
I didnt answer with words. I reached for the buttons of my blouse and began to undo them one by one. He watched, hands at his sides, until the fabric parted and my bra showed. Only then did he lift his fingers to trace the edge of lace across the top of my breast. The contact sent a sharp pull straight between my legs.
He kissed me slowly at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against mine as his hands pushed the blouse off my shoulders. I felt the clasp of my bra give way and the sudden freedom as it dropped. His palms covered my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they tightened into hard peaks. I arched into his touch, already wet and aching.
We moved to the bedroom without turning on more lights. The sheets were cool when he laid me down.
He took his time undressing me the rest of the way, kissing each new inch of skin he uncovered. When his mouth reached the inside of my thigh I opened for him without thinking. His tongue found my clit in one slow, deliberate stroke. I gasped, hips lifting. He held me steady with strong hands and licked again, firmer now, circling and sucking until my thighs trembled around his head.
I came the first time with his mouth sealed over me, two fingers sliding inside and curling just right. The orgasm rolled through me in long, pulsing waves. I was still catching my breath when he stood and stripped. His cock was thick and already glistening at the tip. I reached for it, wrapping my fingers around the shaft and stroking once, twice, feeling it twitch in my grip.
He rolled on a condom and settled between my legs. The blunt head pressed against my entrance, then pushed inside in one steady thrust. I felt every inch stretch me open. He paused when he was fully seated, forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing hard. Then he began to move.
Each thrust was deep and measured at first. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met him, the wet sound of our bodies meeting filling the quiet room. He shifted angles until the head of his cock dragged over that sensitive spot inside me with every stroke. Pleasure built again, tighter this time. I dug my nails into his back and begged him not to stop.
He fucked me harder, the bed creaking beneath us. I came a second time with a broken cry, clenching around him so tightly he groaned and followed, hips jerking as he emptied inside the condom. We stayed locked together afterward, sweat cooling on our skin, his weight a welcome pressure.
Later he turned me onto my stomach and took me again from behind, one hand reaching beneath to rub my clit while he thrust. I came a third time, face pressed into the pillow, voice hoarse from moaning his name. When he finally pulled out I felt empty and thoroughly used in the best way.
We lay side by side in the dark, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my hip. I told him I had never come that many times with anyone before. He kissed my shoulder and said he wasnt finished yet.
By morning light I had lost count. My body ached in places that made me smile. I left his apartment with his number in my phone and the taste of him still on my tongue. That night, and every night since when I touch myself, I replay the details exactly as they happened. The slow first kiss, the way his tongue felt between my legs, the deep stretch of his cock inside me, the sound of his voice when he came.
It remains the most honest thing I have ever done with another person. I carry it with me like a private fire, warm and secret, exactly the way I want it.
