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(Disclaimer: This is very much a build up to the sex story. Though the story is fairly short anyway so hopefully that shouldn’t put you off too much)

I thought I had long moved passed the anxiety of teenage romance. Where every interaction with a girl was a complicated question, with no clear answers and an unspecified deadline. These were my 20s and I had had my experiences of young romance. I had dated (but not much). I’d had a decent amount of sex even if I couldn’t always rise to the occasion (8/10 first encounters were a struggle). I had even been in a long-term relationship (which we will not be talking about).

There were no more games, no more confusion. She either liked you or she didn’t and there was no point getting worked up over it or trying to convince yourself there was something there when there wasn’t. That’s simply lying to yourself. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I genuinely had a crush on someone. Not just were attracted to them, but genuinely had nervous butterflies and dreamed of spending late night evenings just watching movies and talking about nothing. Was it 13, 15. Either way it was the love of children, and I wasn’t a child anymore?

So, when I agreed to meet up with Isabelle that Saturday, I was confident on what would transpire. We’d meet up at London in the evening. We’d go for a night of drinking and dancing. Then we’d retire to our hotel room, and since we’d agreed to share a room, we were likely to spend a night of passionate kissing and intense embraces.

We’d met at a night out in Birmingham though neither of us lived there. My friend Jordan had already become entangled dancing with her friend Natasha and never passing up an opportunity to dance with a beautiful I took her hand, moved her in for a spin and from there it just clicked. She was soft and graceful, rolling and spinning following my lead but not afraid to outshine me when she felt like it. It was pure chemistry and it wasn’t long before I couldn’t help but take her face in my hands and go in for a kiss. At first it was quick with little response, and I hesitated. But she didn’t move away, so I went in again this time with more heat, pulling her into me. That’s when she melted gripping my shirt and hypnotizing me with those eyes. Suffice to say, it was an excellent night.

However, what would usually have ended with a drunken snog and a good dance had turned into something more. What that was, I still wasn’t certain, but I was eager to pursue it further despite the 240 miles between us.

There was a spark when we were dancing, a connection and heat that rushed through me every time I touched her. We left the club holding hands, and it was a physical effort to go our separate ways in the end. Just being near her was intoxicating.

From then on, we spoke almost daily, and for the first time in a long time I didn’t need to rationalize things to myself. I had a crush. This girl, Isabelle. I liked her.

She was from Barbados but had moved around a lot when she was young. Something we bonded over. Dark hair, short and plump with curves that could hypnotize.

She wasn’t shy, her moves on the night we met, as well as an hour-long rant about our teenage explorations of quickly disabused me of that notion. But it soon became clear after talking that she had grown up quite a bit sheltered. Which had resulted in a bit of a rebellious awakening when she came to university. Her family still had an innocent view of her which she still felt a responsibility to live up to. While her friends saw her as if not exactly wild, then reckless. Someone who’d repeatedly put themselves in sticky situation but not having the smarts to navigate it. The dichotomy of those two lives pulled at her sometimes.

When she told me all this on one of our afternoon chats for some reason it gave me a bit of a private thrill. I fantasized about corrupting her. Leading her down a decadent path to explore her desires together. To be her savvy bad boy on the other sad of the tracks. Ironic as I was as one of my friends would say “one of the whitest Nigerians I know.” Still, it had sexual thoughts stirring in my mind, but it soon became apparent this wasn’t likely to be on the table anytime soon.

She made it very clear that nothing would progress past kissing until she was sure we were committed to each other. Which did put a damper on the fantasy, but I didn’t mind. The tension and attention I was getting more than made up for it. We might not be having sex, but she had no qualms chatting about it.

On Saturday we met up at Victoria Station before finding a booth in a nearby pub called The Earl of York. It only took 2 pints of overpriced cider before the conversation turned spicy. We were playing a game of questions and while they had started off generic enough they were slowly getting more and more personal and sexual.

“OK so tell me, tell me, umm, what was one of the most awkward experiences you’ve had with someone you’ve Çeşme Escort gotten with?”

I laughed at that. “Does it have to be on the night you got with them, or can it be after.”

“It can be either, whatever jumps into your head.”

“Hmm, in that case it would have to be Emma.”

“Oooh,” she said playfully, and leaned forward intrigued. “What happened with this mysterious Emma.”

I blushed in slight embarrassment, but the alcohol had me feeling warm and tipsy so the words still tumbled out.

“Emms is one of my best friends. But basically, we were on a night out once, and she was newly single. Recently she had been hooking up with her housemate a lot and was trying to avoid it. So, she was looking to pull. Unsuccessfully I might add to my cringe as I had to witness it all play out. Eventually she asks if she doesn’t get with anyone tonight can she get with me.”

Isabelle raises her eyebrows at that and snorts into her drink, “Wow.”

“I know, but I’m not opposed to it so I say sure. Anyways fast forward we’re dancing together, and this random girl starts chanting we should kiss. So, we do…and it was…fine. A bit awkward but nothing really clicked. So, we dance till the end of the night and take a taxi back home with 2 of her female flat mates. While we’re in the taxi, she leans over and says I should stay over at hers. Of course, I think she’s talking about sex. Which I am not down for. So, I just foist her onto her housemates and borderline run away when we get out of the taxi.”

By now she’s covering her mouth in mock shock at my tale. “You actually ran from a girl that wanted to sleep with you.”

“I was drunk, she was drunk I panicked. But more in general having sex with her is not something I would do.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked.

I hesitated before I spoke. We were being honest, but it’s never easy making yourself vulnerable.

“That’s not what I needed her to be. I didn’t…I don’t have a lot of close friends. The ones that will remember you whenever they make plans and will talk to you because they care. She was one of the few that did, and I love her for it.”

Her eyebrows raised at that. “Love?”

I avoided her eyes, embarrassed at my statement. But when I spoke, conviction was in my voice and I felt a small smile on my face. “Yeah, love.” A small chuckle escaped from my lips. “I guess you don’t know how much you need someone to invite you on a night out, until they do.”

She laughed at that and had another sip of her drink. “That’s sweet, though kind of sad if a night out is all it takes for you to start professing your love.”

“Again, close friend. But OK what does it take for you to start proclaiming love for your friends or ‘lovers’.”

“Hmm,” she said, overly emphasizing the act of her pondering the question before giving up in a fit of giggles. “I don’t know, time, I guess. Never really thought about it. Just one day I catch myself saying ‘I love you’ to a friend. Never a ‘lover’ though as you so eloquently put it.”

That had me curious. “So, you’ve been in love in any of your past relationships?”

Now it was her turn to avoid eye contact. She didn’t seem uncomfortable at the question, just surprised at her own apparent answer to it. “No…I mean I’ve liked them, and some of them were great people I just never looked at them and thought ‘I’m in love with you’. I don’t think so anyway. Is that bad?”

She looked to me across the table as if I would provide a definitive answer. Which considering my relationship history was a terrible mistake.

“Nah as long as you never lied and said it,” I suppose.

“Yep,” she said with a sad distant look in her eyes. “How about we get back to something more fun like…would you ever be in an open relationship?”

I chuckle awkwardly at that.

“Sometimes I flirt with the idea of being in an open relationship. I love to flirt and usually will throw myself at anyone. Especially on a night out, and if we’re being really real it is the validation more than anything. I get OFF on the attention. I do. Its a huge ego boost. Like Jesus, this random girl I just met wants me. That’s literally what goes through my head. Plus, every now and again you meet someone who is so tempting it’s crazy but when I’m in a relationship I have to say no. Which is mostly fine, I don’t really want to go all the way anyway it’s just the temptation. It’s the thrill of it, the tension with another person, it’s not actually the act of it. Which I think if I was in relationship, when I have been in a relationship I’d end up in these really risqué situations, which never crossed the line. But in the back of mind, it’s like, I really want to but no. So, an open relationship would be interesting, but I’d be questioning whether my partner was actually, really ok with it, if that makes sense.”

I stumble through this monologue with more energy and speed as I go on. I feel like I’m giving some sort of strange Çeşme Escort Bayan confession. But honestly it feels…good to tell her

She decides to stop a moment. Her brow furrowing slightly before leaning back against her chair and looking at her ceiling.

“In college, high school, I was not what I am now,” she started slowly almost forcing the words out. “The confidence was not there. I didn’t know how to do my hair, didn’t know how to dress. I just didn’t see myself as like a goddess and I am, and now everyone sees that I am. You still see it even though I’m not even trying, I’m here in trainers and leggings and yet I still catch you checking out my boobs every time I lean forward. You still want this.”

I blush a bit, as I didn’t think it was that obvious. To which she grins but still doesn’t look me in the eye.

“I get a kick out of it; it gives me a thrill. So, I totally get what you mean by getting validation. It’s weird to say but on some level when I dance and do stuff like body rolls or wining my hips, I want the validation that I’m sexy from boys in particular. Even if I don’t want anything I just want to know that they can see me in that way. That’s.. I’m not sure what to do with that. I just think it’s part of who I am as a person at this point. But as I’m growing, I try to adjust where and how I put that out there if you know what I mean.

But on the other hand that that tension, that look in the eyes. Especially when I’m dancing with someone. That I’m eating you up with my eyes kind of look. It does things to me. The amount of times I’ve had to say don’t look at me like that to guys, only half of whom knew what I was talking about. Still polyamory and open relationship is based on a basis of trust and I know myself. If a partner seriously tried to do that with me I’d be like no this guy’s clearly a fuck boy leave. It’s the insecurities of why does he need to go somewhere else, and what if he falls for someone else, I do have those insecurities. Which, I know that’s not the most healthy thing but it is what it is. So, I don’t think I could do polyamory.”

She pauses and finally looks me in the eye before she continues.

“Despite everything I’ve just said honestly, I don’t think I’m that much of a sexual person. Or at least I haven’t been much before. Is that a problem for you, in relationships?”

I pause for a moment realization dawning on what she’s really asking me. “I honestly don’t have enough sex for that to be a problem for me. But I like to talk about it since I find it fascinating in general. In a relationship, connection I think is the most important thing.

“Yeah, that’s true I suppose.”

“Plus, for someone who says they use to draw nsfw fanart you can’t really tell me you’re not a sexual person.”

She laughed again at that. “There’s a reason all those drawings were deleted or thrown away. I felt too guilty.”

The conversations carried on like this for another hour till the pubs started. At which point we wandered out to find to our destination. I famous salsa bar a friend had taken me to a few months prior.

As soon as we arrived we wasted no time in immersing ourselves into the crowd, getting involved with the social dancing as the night kicked off. She didn’t know salsa but she had rhythm and could follow my lead so I had no desire to dance with anyone else. And as the night wore on we started to get closer and more unhibited. It started playfully of course, dancing to a sensual rhythm, playfully grinding against each other. But then there comes that moment, where you look at each other for a bit too long, hold each other a bit too close and must decide. There was something in the playful softness of her voice that drew me in. Her slightly smug grin when she caught me looking at her obviously smitten.

It made me feel warm. Surprisingly, she made the first move, licking her lips and moving in to kiss me. Her mouth was pressed against mine drawing my bottom lip between hers and biting it gently till it hurt just a little. It sent tingles through my body and my hands went to cup her face and pull her in even closer if that was possible. The sound of music around us, the people dancing and drinking it all just faded away into the background. By the time we pulled away to catch our breaths the heat between us was so thick you could cut it. My mind was in a trance. Isabelle took my daze as an opportunity to gently lick my neck, then pull back and feign ignorance when my eyes widened in surprise. This girl had more of a wild streak than at first appeared.

We had migrated to the corner of the club room where it was dark and there was a crush of dancing bodies to hide our antics from some of the more prying eyes. For a while we broke apart and danced separately singing along to our favorite songs. But whenever the beat turned sexual, we moved close wedging my leg between her two thighs and we grinded slowly, the motion of our waist rolling Escort Çeşme and shaking, ebbing, and flowing. The continued friction had me hard, and I was sure she could hear me panting into her ear. Oh god it had been so long since I felt this hot. Isabelle didn’t seem to be faring so well either, her face was completely flushed, and her lipstick was a little smeared from all our mouth mashing.

Driving my leg up a little bit harder to press against her covered pussy she closed her eyes and trembled for half a second her fingers digging into me for support. I could feel a small dampness between her legs and any anxieties I had were momentarily forgotten. I just knew I wanted her, more than I had wanted anyone in a while. Her breasts pressed against my chest, the electricity of promise passing between us. We danced less and kissed more our roaming hands becoming more daring, more frenzied.

“Looking cute” someone shouted loudly in our direction which brought us back to reality. We looked around to see where there was once a crush of bodies to hide us we were now more exposed. Jess got a bit shy at that, her hands falling away, her body language belying her embarrassment. I on the other hand went on the offensive pulling her in closer by the loops on her jeans and beamed with a wicked smile of delight. My body was buzzing and whatever was going to happen next, it couldn’t happen here. I asked if she wanted to go back to the hotel. She avoided my eyes but smiled and nodded in answer. Together we gathered our things and made our way out of the club with my hand firmly interlocked with hers.

The journey back was mostly silent interspersed with random talks about nothing and everything. It barely registered. All we could focus on was the dirty promises we shared in the briefest glances exchanged as we road to the tube out of central towards Fulham. Our fingers rubbed, and caressed each other, acting out what we would recreate without bodies.

I decided to kiss her again in the lift to our room. It wasn’t a hard choice the tension had been building the entire evening and she was not so subtly leaning against me so I could feel the heat of her body and the softness of her skin. I was nervous, my heart was racing, but as we waited for the lift door to open wrapping my arm around her waist. As the lift doors opened her head briefly rested against my chest and she looked so bright and warm. I wanted to ruin her, envelop her, do all kinds of dirty nasty things to her, and see her face when it was crying out in pleasure. So, I did the natural thing and as we walked into the lift I picked her up by her thighs and lifted her fully onto me while using the back of the lift wall as support, her legs naturally wrapping around my waist.

She was surprised and let out a happy squeal which I kissed into silence; with all the intensity I could muster. What happened next was a blur. Her hands were round my neck, tongue down my throat, my hands gripping as much of her ass as I could, the smell of her filling and inflaming. We pulled back for a moment, breathing, panting. But like magnets we were drawn together for another passionate embrace. The lift doors opened onto our floor, and we stepped out, trying not to separate for an instant. My lips were busy exploring the intricacies of her neck and my thigh wedged between her legs trying to give her some stimulation in preparation for what was about to come. I was so hard. Her right hand reached down to stroke my cock through my trousers which only served to spur me on. Her fingers traced the outline which pulsed in response and brought forth a low growl from me.

With deft finger she unbuttoned my trousers and lowered my zipper enough to slip her hand in and start stroking my dick directly. Her touch was like fire setting my groin ablaze in pleasurable agony. My lips turned to teeth as I bit her neck and froze unable to focus on anything else than the sensations, she was giving me. A noise down the hallways sent a jolt of fear through us and we quickly remembered that we were still out in a public space where people could see us. She pulled me hurriedly towards our room, fumbling to unlock the door and let us in. I didn’t bother pulling up my zipper. Once inside we immediately returned to kissing with fervor. Hands explored the lines and curves of each other’s bodies, with lips and tongues following soon after. Articles of clothing were slowly peeled off until Isabelle was just in her bra and panties while I was just in my boxers.

My fingers grazed against her inner thigh and I could feel her wetness and how much she wanted this.

But she stopped me.

Almost abruptly she took a step back and removed my hand from between her thighs. It took a moment for me to register. But when I did, I was immediately concerned. Had I done something wrong? had something happened. Isabelle’s face was a mask of conflict?

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, its just, I’m just,” she shook her head in frustration. “I didn’t plan to let things go this far. I am a more traditional and I don’t want to play around. I just…you’re just so…soft and warm and you make me feel good, and safe, and I like being with you. Which is crazy as this is technically our 1st date.

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