So finally I was going to meet Mr. Maybe.
x
I had 40 minutes tops. I looked up from my computer.
Oh Crap!! The place looked
like an absolute tip. I hadn’t done the dishes. An ashtray was strewn across
the floor (casualty of 5 am dance fest) and the table next to my armchair was a
mountain of chocolate papers, tissues, unopened candy packets, water glasses,
coffee mugs, note books, scraps of paper, pens, pencils, marijuana seeds and
other flotsam. Books, magazines and newspapers were strewn across every conceivable surface.
I tried to reduce the carnage
of the place to a vaguely acceptable minimum, i.e. I swept up the upended
ashtray’s contents and dumped all the mugs in the sink.
Hmmm … Question: exactly HOW
lazy would it make me if I had a maid come in every day even though I have all
the time in the world to clean since I am not working at the moment?
Ha ha! Rhetorical question …
I understand the concept of cleaning, just not as it applies to me … and we are
in Africa, after all, where slave labour might not be the politically correct
term … but let’s just call a spade a spade. It is so cheap to hire help here that even when one is unemployed, one can afford it.
I ran out the door, dropped
off my way overdue DVD’s and then went to Spar to get beers, ice and
cigarettes. It all took a bit longer than I expected, not least because I was
as nervous as a tick ….
I was jumpy and breathless
with anticipation.
And with my mind in such
turmoil (I’m finally going to get laid!!!! After 9 months of permanent
celibacy!), my sense of direction went even more out the window than usual
(yes, I am a typical woman in that sense: geographically dyslexic!).
Long story short: I went in
totally the wrong direction and started driving towards the mountains! I could
see the dam to my right, getting further and further away.
Aaaargh! Why does this always
happen to me? Another couple of ridiculous mistakes later and I got to the Reserve.
It was 5 pm. They were closing the gates at 6 pm. Hmmm … not half as much time
as I would have liked for this particular rendezvous!
I drove down and followed the
directions he’d sent via sms. (Yes, I got lost again twice). Driving past all
these purposeful, wholesome joggers and walkers (bet they weren’t having
illicit trysts with lovers they had met online), I felt slimy but also naughty
in a nice way. I mean, I was about to do something so verboten!
Okay, so my fantasy wasn’t
playing out EXACTLY as I had imagined (me reclining on a blanket overlooking
that magnificent stretch of water, seductive pose, cold beer waiting for him, as
he drove up) but I was actually going through with this!
It did have its bonuses
though, arriving after him because as I drove up slowly, I got a good overview (he was clad, typically Southern African style, in jeans with a cap and dark
glasses). And may I just say ... YUM! (What a relief!)
It hit me how highly charged all that waiting and teasing
and hinting was … what an aphrodisiac! As I got out of my vehicle, I could
literally feel the sparks in the air – corny as it sounds.
He walked straight up to me and
said: “Don’t I get a hug?”
As he hugged me, I just stood
there. I guess I was still in a slight state of shock (and reality certainly hadn't kicked in yet) so I
didn’t hug him back.
“Hey, why are you shaking?”
he whispered.
I was. My mouth was dry despite
the chewing gum. I stuttered something unintelligible. He smiled at me and took
the cooler box from me.
We sat down on the grass and
opened our beers (Thank God he smoked too).
Finally, when I couldn’t wait
any longer for him to make the first move (I mean, as interesting as his
conversation might have been, I SO had not come here for that), I sat up and kneeled
in front of him. I shifted forwards and then I was as close to him as I could get, I
took a breath, told myself “You can do this. You are now almost a fully-fledged
dirty whore! Don't stop now. Just do it already!” and threw one leg over his lap so I was
straddling him.
There. Done. Not so hard
after all!
He didn’t need any more
encouragement. He kissed me and immediately started moving his hands all over
my body, biting me, licking me, taking my clothes off.
Suffice to say: Pure Heaven.
But five minutes later, he
murmured a word I am not particularly fond of, especially in a situation like
this: “Crap”.
I turned around.
A car had pulled up directly
in our line of vision.
He picked me up (yes, he was
that tall and strong) and wrapped my legs around his waist.
He opened the back of his car
and laid me down on the back seat of his car. He then lifted my legs and pulled off my jeans and panties.
Oh my God! He had SO not
lied. He was amazing. His tongue was doing such magical things down there, I
cannot even begin to describe!
And the ultimate thing is
that he did it all in such a totally unhurried, languid manner, like he really
really did love doing it and wasn’t doing it, like a lot of guys did:
(a) just
to please me,
(b) to get a blowjob in return,
(c) solely in order to get me wet
so he could enter me easily, or
(d) because of expectation / obligation / part
of the seduction ritual.
It was unreal!
At one point I leaned up on
my elbows, and – through my ragged breath – said “U so didn’t lie! You ARE that
good”
He just looked at me, and
said “Lie down. Lie down, now.”
Omg! Masterful too. I was in Nirvana!
x
“Men are chiefly good lovers when they are betraying their wives”
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