Sunday Brunch

And it was like when you've got a puzzle, and there's one piece missing? Well, that's what it was like for me. It was like my body felt that there was one piece missing, and when Tim put his cock into me it was like that missing piece that I'd been looking for.

And when I felt that "piece" go into me I wrapped my arms around him and clasped my legs over his thighs, and I held him there to me, like I wasn't going to lose that piece. And Tim seemed to understand. He didn't start thrusting his hips so he could fuck me "like a real man." Instead, he lay there, letting me hold him tight to me, and we hugged each other like that, gently rocking side-to-side in each other's arms, cherishing this chance of being together.

Finally I loosened my grasp of him, and he took that as the sign that now I'd like him to fuck me. He began sliding in and out of me, not hammering or pounding me - just sliding in and out, trying to maximize the contact, the sensations between us. While we were doing this he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and it was the gentlest, most loving kind of fuck.

And he slid himself upward a bit, just enough to make sure that every stroke of his cock rubbed across my clit, and when he did that I hugged him just a little bit tighter, but not so much that he couldn't keep moving the way he was moving. And then I started to get those feelings, the little tingling in my pussy, and just a little deeper than that, and I bit my lip and said, "Oh, Tim, I..." and I came - a wonderful, blissful orgasm. I may have dug my fingernails into his arms, and maybe I bit his shoulder - more like squeezing it with my teeth rather than actually biting, and I don't think I actually hurt him.

And he held his position pressed against me and he allowed me to enjoy my climax, and when he was sure that I had finished he put his lips near my ear and whispered, "May I cum inside you?"

Yes, he could. Because when I heard the question, I knew, Yes - I want this man - I want his spirit - inside me.

Later I thought about this - about his question, and about my response.

I learned later that Tim, once he decided that he was never going to get married, got a vasectomy. So it wasn't a matter of my being "safe."

Most guys - most men - simply assume it - that if there's no risk of pregnancy, that once a woman lets a guy into her cunt, that he practically has a right to cum in you.

So when Tim asked, "May I cum inside you?" he wasn't asking if it was safe to cum in me. He was asking my permission for him to put his cum inside me. And that almost scared me. Because it got me wondering:

Is this guy too good to be true?

No.

No, I don't think he is.

I could tell he was just about to cum. He lay his head on the pillow, next to mine, and he touched me with his lips - not kissing - just... touching.

And he came. He didn't cum bucking his hips and trying to pound me into the mattress. Instead, his body stiffened - stretched, really - and stayed like that for maybe five or six seconds while he released his semen into me - just as I had given him "permission" to do. Then his body relaxed as the tension drained from him. And as he was cumming he said, softly, "Carinne."

~ ~ ~

I woke up what must have been several hours later. The light from the courtyard was gently illuminating the room but it still took me a few second to realize where I was - and how I got here.

I'm lying in a hotel room, at the hotel where I work, in the arms - the gentle arms - of a stranger. Not a stranger, but someone I didn't even know existed just twelve hours before.

And this not-stranger has his arms around me, and he's holding me, and I've never felt so secure and so at-peace before in my life.

And I'm trying to think what led up to this, me being here like this.

I drove to the Marriott restaurant this morning, pissed that I was going to have to work Sunday brunch. And brunch was just as sucky as I was sure it would be. And then I met this guy, and we talked, and after my shift he and I drove to Morro Bay, and we walked on the beach, and we had dinner, and we drove back and I asked to go to his room. And I remember a glass of wine and lying down on the couch, and falling into this lovely sleep. Then I remembered something about a glass of water, and how we went into his bedroom - no, how I took us into the bedroom. And how I was made love to, in a way...

And that's when I realized - I want to make love, too. I wanted to make love to Tim as... lovingly... like he had made love to me.

I eased myself out of his gentle hold and turned down the duvet enough to uncover his groin and then slid in under the sheet that still covered him. I grasped his deflated cock in my thumb and fingers and took him in my mouth....

At first I just wanted to hold him in my mouth. I didn't want to take a cock into my mouth. I wanted to have a man in my mouth - I wanted to have this man in my mouth. And he filled my mouth, and I felt the warmth of his cock, and the silken smoothness of his skin, and the musky, tangy taste that I knew was part him and part my own. And all of it was concentrated into the single experience of holding him in my mouth.

Then I felt his hand on my ass, and he seemed to be signaling me to turn, to swivel around in the bed so my hips were over him, over his face and his mouth, and like that we indulged ourselves in feeling each other with out mouths, and I had to switch between enjoying the feel of his mouth and lips and tongue on my pussy and enjoying the feel of his musky cock thickening in my mouth.

Finally, I lifted my head from his cock and gripped his hip bones, planning on rolling him over on top of me to... well, you know why. But before I could, it was Tim who grasped my hips and pulled me over on top of him.

"I want to look up and see your face."

And so he pulled me over him and guided his cock, which I had done such a fine job of arousing to its present stiffness, to my pussy. He tugged gently on my hips and I lowered myself down onto him, and once again I experienced the wonderful feeling of that "missing piece" finding its place inside me.

And somehow Tim knew, and he let me move around on him, experimenting with my "missing piece," trying it out, seeing how it fit in different places, and getting lost in my explorations, until finally I decided that I deserved to enjoy the full benefits of my missing piece and ground myself onto Tim's cock and pelvis, and that was his cue to cum in me.

This time, he didn't need to ask.

I lowered myself onto him, and I think I was aware of him putting his arms around me, and I slept so beautifully, there in his room in the Marriott just off the 101 in San Luis Obispo - what I think may have been the most peaceful night of my so-far brief life.

We let the sunlight coming in through the open curtains wake us up, and without any discussion embarked upon some happy wake-up sex.

After we finished with that - those - we agreed that we were both really hungry. Tim asked if I had to be anywhere at a certain time. I told him that Mondays I don't have any classes until 12:30, but if we wanted to get something to eat we'd better hurry because the hotel stopped serving breakfast at 9:30. And that's when Tim reminded me - that since I worked in the hotel restaurant, that maybe I wouldn't want to show up at breakfast with some guy first thing in the morning.

And that's when I had this funny realization: that I really wanted Tim and me to have breakfast "as a couple."

But Tim was right about... appearances. Instead, we decided to order our own breakfast buffet from room service, and Tim went crazy, ordering scrambled eggs and bacon and sausages and orange juice and a fruit compote and yoghurt and croissants and a big pitcher of coffee.

We indulged ourselves in our breakfast completely - didn't fool around even a little. I admit, it was tempting. But somehow there didn't seem to be this need. It was like we had all the time in the world for fooling around - even though we'd never discussed it.

But speaking of time...

I asked/told Tim that I needed to get back to my apartment - that I had to change - I was still wearing my "work" clothes from yesterday brunch - and get some stuff for my classes. We got dressed and then I gathered my stuff and Tim and I went downstairs as unobtrusively as possible. He walked me to my Corolla, still parked where I left it yesterday morning. I unlocked it and he opened the driver's door for me. And he kissed me.

And strange as it seems, and after all we'd done and how easy it had been doing it, it was a little awkward. And he asked if he could see me tonight.

The past 20 hours have been - and I know how hokey this sounds - magic.

And that's not a good thing.

"Magic" is not a sound basis for making good decisions.

On the other hand, there's no way I want this to be the end of things. I know that I want to see this man more. Lots more.

"I'd really like to, but I have classes all this afternoon and I'm working at the restaurant tonight 'til 10:30...," and the lost look on his face practically broke my heart.

"But tomorrow night...,"

... and I watched the light return to that kind, gentle face.

We agreed to have dinner tomorrow night. I told him where my apartment was and we arranged for him to pick my up two hours after my last class - that way I'd have a chance to change out of my grubby student clothes and freshen up for... for what?

I know - you're waiting for me to tell you how my head was in the clouds and how I was walking on air all day. Well, it wasn't, and I didn't. I had enough practical matters to attend to. And besides, no matter how "magical" yesterday and last night - and this morning - had been, it was still only one afternoon and night - and morning - and I didn't want to get ahead of things.

But there were a couple of times when I got this warm feeling, and I'd smile, and then I'd go on with what I'd been doing.

So I worked my shift Monday night and went to my classes Tuesday and then it was time for Tim to pick me up.

He asked me about a beachside restaurant in Avila Beach and I told him I'd heard it was a nice, low-key place. It was a Tuesday so we had no trouble finding a parking spot, and the nice hostess seated us immediately.

And we talked. About everything. About my family, and about growing up, and about some of the great family vacations we took. And about how I wanted to get my nursing degree but had no idea of where I wanted to live or what kind of nursing I wanted to do - a doctor's or pediatrician's, or a hospital or nursing center or rehab, or maybe public health nursing...

And he told me about himself, about growing up in a small farming community in central Illinois, and about his parents, how his mother died five years ago and his father a year later. And how they'd had him later in life, and how they were conservative people - "not politically - but maybe a little bit that way, too." And how religion was very important to them - to their lives. And how they weren't fundamentalist or evangelicals or Bible-thumpers, but they were traditional and tried to live by the Good Book.

"In fact, that's how I got my name. My name's not 'Timothy' - it's Timuel. They thought it sounded Biblical, like the name of an Old Testament prophet.

"So I went to State and majored in English literature and got my first job in advertising. Then I went to work for a client in their marketing department. Two years later I joined my current company... "

And that's how he ended up here...

With me.

In fact, Tim and I talked about everything - everything except Sunday night and Monday morning.

It was a 25-minute drive back to my apartment, and I guess after all we'd talked about over our chowder and salad and burger we were pretty much talked out. Tim asked it I'd like to hear some music. That sounded good under the circumstances, so he asked if Oldies were OK. I wasn't sure what constituted "oldies' for Tim, but I said fine and he turned on the car radio to a station it was already tuned to.

Tonight "oldies" apparently meant the '60s. So we listened to Simon & Garfunkel and the Temptations and The Mamas and the Papas, but then a group came on that I never heard of - the Vogues. And as soon as he heard the first few notes Tim lit up, and he began singing -

You're the one that I long to kiss

Baby, you're the one that I really miss

You're the one that I'm dreamin' of

Baby, you're the one that I love

Keep me in your heart

Never let us part

Never leave me, please don't deceive me

I want you only, you must believe me

You're the one that I long to kiss

Baby, you're the one that I really miss

You're the one that I'm dreamin' of

Baby, you're the one that I love*

A sweet song, the rhythm was really catchy,...

... and then I realized - he's not singing along with the radio...

... he's singing to me!

Ohhh, fuuuck...

... he means it.

Awww, crap, I don't need this kind of shit in my life. From a guy I've only known 56... no, 55 hours.

Then the reality of it hit me: He means it. I think this is a proposal! This lunatic is proposing to me!

THIS IS CRAZY! IS HE OUT OF HIS MIND? DOES HE HAVE A FUCKING CLUE WHAT HE'S DOING??

But then he made it clear: he understood very well what he was doing. Despite the singing "delivery," this was not a spur-of the-moment impulse by a silly teenager.

No, he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Carinne Richardson?"

I thought, and I thought, and I thought...

... and in about 3 seconds I heard myself saying, "Yes, Timuel Mayes, I understand what you're saying."

We drove to my cramped little student apartment, and we made love on my twin bed.

And once again I got that feeling - that feeling that a missing piece of me was just put into place, and now my "picture" was complete.

And this time it wasn't like before, two nights ago. Then it was two people who were attracted to each other. This time was different. This time it was two people who were making a commitment to each other.

In the morning I made coffee. Then we made plans.

~ ~ ~

We talked about the rest of the two weeks Tim'll be working here. How the nights I worked at the Marriott I'd stay with him, in his room, and the other nights when I had classes the next morning how he'd stay here, with me, and how we'd manage together in my twin bed.

And how after that we'd talk about the future.

But right now he's here with me, for twelve more days.

And there was the sex, of course. Lots and lots of sex. But it wasn't the crazy, frantic, "we gotta make up for lost time" sex.

It was... exploration - all those things you can do with another person. All the "usual" things, of course, but now with this person. And all the things you wondered about, or ideas that might have drifted into your mind in idle - or not so idle - moments. And the new things that being with this person makes you think of and want to do or try.

And no fear, and no self-consciousness, and all the time knowing that it - you - are perfectly safe, and cared for, and secure.

And behind it all, this overwhelming thought - that this cock, this body - this man - will, God willing, be with me for the rest of my life.

Remember, I said that I only had a twin bed in the little cubicle that counts as the "bedroom" in my tiny overpriced student apartment. Well, because of that the nights that Tim stayed with me at my place we tried a lot of different ways - and places - to have sex. It turned out, my tiny 3-piece dinette set came to figure prominently in our lovemaking, and we often found ourselves with me bent over the little two-person table or me leaning back on it with Tim's face and mouth between my legs.

But the real revelation turned out to be the chairs. Because those simple little chrome-and-vinyl dinette chairs turned out to be the perfect vehicle - or, better, platform - for Tim and me to practice our romances. Here's how:

When Tim sat on a chair and I lower myself down on top of him it puts a number of things in perfect position. It puts my head just above his so it's easy for me to put my arms around his neck, and to put our faces together and kiss. It also puts my modest breasts right at the level of his mouth, and I guess I don't have to explain why that's good. And he can put his arms all the way around me and hold me - hug me. And for me to rub his cute little nipples against my cute little nipples.

And like this his cock penetrates deep inside me - way deep!

And like this we can look at each other while we love and fuck each other.

But we were new lovers and there was no way we were going to limit ourselves.

Of course, there was the "catch-up" sex, and there was tender loving sex. And "experimental" sex - trying every place we could find and every position we could contort our bodies into.

And that very best sex of all, wake-up sex.

~ ~ ~

And we talked.

About everything.

But mainly about the future.

And, especially, about the immediate future.

Tim said that if I want him to he can sublet his Chicago apartment and move out here to be with me.

And we talked about living together. Yes, we were talking about him leaving his home and moving 2000 miles to be with me - someone he's known for only ten days.

And about my school.

Yes, I'm going to continue studying for my nursing degree. It's been my dream since I was a little girl, and Tim agrees that nothing should interfere with that.

And we talked about Tim getting a place here, near mine. But then I realized - there's no way I wanted to be near Tim. I wanted to be with him. There didn't seem to be any point in Tim moving across the country and then for us to be separated.

So Tim left Saturday to go back to Chicago, leaving me to plow through the real estate ads for a place for us to live.

Our place.

~ ~ ~

So while Tim was back in Chicago taking care of matters and getting ready to move, out here, with me, I found a really nice condo that was convenient to school for me and had three bedrooms - one that Tim could use as an office when he was working from home and one to be a guest bedroom, because I can't wait for Robyn, my cousin and very closest friend since forever, to come and visit us - and to meet Tim.

Also, it has a pretty decent kitchen. Of course, I don't do much cooking - I'm a single college student who also has a job and lives alone (until now, at least!). But Mama did teach me, in this land of Mexican food and California cuisine, to make some "heritage food." So I make a killer cornbread, and I do greens that even a hardcore meat eater can love. (Mama says the secret is using greens like mustard or chicory instead of the more leathery collards that are traditional.)

But what I never would have guessed: Tim is a pretty good cook. Living in a small farming community he was at his mother's side in the kitchen all the while he was growing up. And like you might expect, while the things his mom cooked were not particularly exotic or adventurous she did teach him the basics, along with how to follow a recipe. As a result, Tim knows six different ways to make roast chicken, along with a mean enchilada casserole and even French cassoulet.