Of Love & Sex


I suppose it was her skill derived from experience. She understood the male anatomy far better than my wife, and she was working hard to make what she was doing a genuinely erotic experience. But it wasn't just her skill that surprised me. As I slowly came to realise, she wasn't just sucking me because that's what a woman does to arouse a man. She was sucking my cock because she wanted to - because she loved doing it. In between ministering to my flesh, her mouth would occasionally lift, and she'd whisper words of admiration and joy directed at my penis. I can't remember what she said exactly, I can only remember how it made me feel. Here was this beautiful young woman holding and kissing my cock, embracing it with her mouth, and all the time telling me how beautiful it was, and how wonderful it felt to touch me. Suddenly I began to forget my fears - they just kind of faded away - until I'd been transformed in a way I could never have believed possible.

When she finally surfaced, primarily because I didn't want to come in her mouth, even though she seemed entirely happy at the prospect, I'd been awakened to something wholly unique in my experience. I began to kiss her and touch her, not because I had to, or because if I did it might her on, but because I wanted to.

I can only recall snatches of those moments. How exquisite her breasts seemed, for example, and how I felt this desire to kiss her nipples. I recall one moment when she lay over me, her breasts hanging down just above my face, and I marvelled at their shape. They were pert and curved and full - with sharp firm nipples that begged to be taken in to my mouth. I held them softly in my hands and they felt so smooth and warm and exciting. And when I kissed one, and gently drew a nipple in between my lips, she began to moan softly as if she was really genuinely enjoying my touch.

It was so strange, but the more she seemed to respond to my (perhaps clumsy) efforts to pleasure her, the more I wanted to give her pleasure. Suddenly I was in no hurry. Suddenly I found I was enjoying taking my time. Suddenly I wanted to feel her body under my hands and under my lips.

Emboldened with a new found confidence, I lay her back on the bed and began to explore her body. I kissed her face and her hair, and ran my tongue down her beautiful neck. I kissed her arms and took her fingers in my mouth, one at a time. She seemed to respond to every touch, every movement, with some indication of pleasure. A sigh, a moan, or just the way she lifted or turned her body to give me access to some unexplored part of her skin.

I suckled at both her breasts for a long time. I'm not sure why but I found her breasts so erotic. They seemed to me perfect in every way, and the more I took them in my mouth, the more I wanted to. I remember how she called me 'baby', and told me I could do that forever.

Slowly my lips and tongue descended, until I found myself down between her legs. She was shaved and smooth, and I remember being surprised as I kissed her vulva. I confess I'd never been too keen on giving oral sex - or very good at it. But Eliza was different. Whereas before I'd never been entirely comfortable - either because I wasn't sure what I was doing, or because it was all a bit messy down there - I suddenly discovered I was actually enjoying kissing her in that most intimate of places. Somehow it didn't feel strange or off-putting. I was comfortable there in a way I'd never have imagined I could be. I can't really explain it. I don't know if it was the smell or the taste or what. It was an entirely holistic experience, and I wanted to be there. I wanted to explore, to push my tongue deep in her vagina, to uncover and gently brush her clitoris, to burrow with my tongue into every fold of her flesh. It didn't seem like an effort and I wasn't trying to reach some predetermined goal, and time itself seemed to lose its meaning. Indeed, when her body arched and her mouth cried out with joy, I didn't see that (as I usually did) as a sign that my job was done. I wanted to continue. I was turned on by her pleasure, and I soon lost count of the number of times she responded to my stimulation. As I said, it felt right, and so comfortable.

This notion of 'comfort' may seem like a suitable euphemism for being 'ok' with giving oral sex, but for me it is much much more than that. Somewhere along the line, and without me quite realising it, being with Eliza hard started to seem 'natural'. No, it was more than that – it really truly felt like 'coming home'. You've heard all the songs and stories about being people 'made for each other' - it's all crap isn't it? Well, no it isn't. I felt that way, and as the evening went on I felt more and more that way, until I knew (even as it was happening) that I was experiencing something unique and magical, and far beyond my wildest dreams.


Why was it so good? How can I explain it to you? How can I paint the picture of a feeling and an experience that even now I can hardly believe or understand? Words just aren't enough.

It was in the way she curled up in my arms like a baby, in the way she sighed with pure joy at every touch, in the way she gently moaned and giggled as I kissed and nuzzled at her vulva, in the way her eyes went glazed and distant till she looked like someone else - like a Goddess or an Angel. But more than anything else it was in her unselfish consideration, giving me all she could of herself, working tirelessly to stimulate, arouse, and pleasure me - whilst at the same time losing herself in the act of sex, and revelling unashamedly in every moment of pleasure.

But it was also in what she did to me.

She moved my soul in a way I'd never experienced. I never even knew that part of me existed. Suddenly I came to life and began to return to her the joy she was giving to me. My hands started to caress her skin, touching every part of her. My fingers were suddenly alive, and I could sense each gentle delicate touch. I wanted to touch her, I needed to touch her, and I conveyed this message in the interplay between her skin and mine. I kissed her as tenderly as I knew how, and whispered words of love with every kiss and every touch.

I was discovering all I had known and believed before was wrong. Sex could be a wonderful, awesome, magical experience. What is really important is the person you are with - and Eliza seemed like the home I had always been searching for. She was amazing, and with her I was suddenly nowhere near as bad as I feared.

And when I finally entered her, the sense of comfort, of coming home, broadened and deepened until I felt like I was having a mystical experience. It was just so right - simple as that - just plain right. How on earth can I describe what it's like suddenly finding another human being who feels like the other half of your soul? Who fits you physically and mentally? We moved within each other as if dancing to a melody we both knew and loved. I have no clear memory of the details; all I have left now is this tune in my head, this dance of love. I could have cum a thousand times, but I didn't. I didn't want to lose the moment, and whenever I felt the danger of release I slowed down and let it pass.

We made love all night long - yes, really and truly - all though the whole night. It never happened to me before (and never will again). And what's more I could have continued all day too. I really and genuinely (for the first time in my whole life) wanted to be with her, wanted to touch her, wanted to lie in her bed. She was so mature, so adult, so uninhibited. She lost herself in the act of sex. Her eyes took on this quasi-mystical quality. Yet, at the same time, she was so cosy and comfortable, and cuddly. She took away all my fears. Indeed she was the warm darkness at the heart of all fear - she was simply amazing! I fell in love with her that night - body and soul.

We tried many different positions in our many acts of intercourse, but slowly and gently, and with the utmost consideration. Somehow I didn't need instruction, even with actions and ways I'd never tried before. We became entwined, entangled, merged - until our bodies became like one, not metaphorically, but in a real and tangible sense.

But don't go away with the impression this night was without passion or lust, because that's not true. We talked about doing things, to and for each other, that previously (to me at least) had seemed crude and dirty. Sometimes she wanted me gentle, sometimes brutal - and often I would increase her passion by talking dirty to her as I thrust myself deep in her cunt. Many times she told me I could do 'anything I liked to her ... anything!" No, what this night lacked was guilt, not lust.

Occasionally we'd rest and whisper to each other - mostly words of love and praise. Then we begin again, a long slow dance of love. I remember at one stage we spent long time inverted (in the 69 position), with my tongue contentedly flicking and probing her vagina, and my lips occasionally embracing her clitoris and drawing it into my mouth - whilst at the same time she was worshipping me with her velvet tongue and taking me deep in her throat. I knew she wanted me to cum in her mouth - I think she saw it as the ultimate gift - but I resisted, right until the morning sun crept through the curtain and licked her auburn hair.

Finally, after a night of unexpected and unsurpassable pleasure, I relented, and as her mouth protected and comforted my penis, I let her hands bring me to climax. It was an orgasm like no other I'd ever known - and as the lights went out in my head and my soul filled with wonder and joy, she noiselessly swallowed my gift, and completed the act by telling me 'how wonderful' I tasted, and thanking me over and over again.

As I said, we made love, we didn't have sex. I never knew how different the two things are. One is just physical, and the other is physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual - all at the same time. We touched each other in so many dimensions and in so many ways. I genuinely believe we were both awed by the experience. You see it wasn't just her skill that made the night what it was; it wasn't just that she was an excellent lover. I mean she was an incredible lover, but she'd also found something in me that had ultimately surprised her almost as much as it surprised me. It wasn't just our bodies that had melded than night – it was our hearts and minds and souls.


Sometimes I wonder if other people are as ignorant as me, or am I alone in being the fool who never understood. I had lived a whole life time and never known that all the things they say about love are true! That all the songs, all the soppy movies, all the silly Mills & Boon books: they're all true! How could I have been so blind? How could I have lived so long and never known that making love can be more than sex? And that sex can be mind-blowingly passionate and perverted and lustful, and yet still at the same time be pure and clean and wondrously wholesome.

I like to offer you a happy ending to my story - but life's not like that. I spent another night with Eliza, pretty much like the one I've described above. After that, moved as we both were by the experience we shared, we tried for18 months to make it work. I left my home and my family and all I had to be with her. Initially she left her husband, but as she had a young daughter, in the end she reluctantly went back. She was (as I've explained) in many ways an amazing woman; but in her personal life she was lost, uncertain, and confused. I believe she loved me as much as I love her, but she felt she had no choice but to let go.

I lost everything I had as a result of that 'affair'. Do I regret it? Or is it better to have 'loved and lost'?

Well, in those 18 months I lived a whole lifetime. Being genuinely in love changed my consciousness, and I saw the moon and the sky and the world around me as I'd never seen them before. Everything was so much more alive and real, and full of meaning. There was a 'quality' or a 'feeling' embedded in every object and every place, and I was moved to depths of appreciation and understanding that before would have seemed impossible. The old 'rose-coloured glasses' thing I guess.

I experienced the heights of joy, but also the depths of despair. I never knew it was possible to feel such pain - but that's another story. How did I feel when it was done? Well I wrote this couple of years ago, just after I realised it was over - but I guess it's as true now as it was then.

I am like a baby who had the most beautiful firework in the world in its hand - a firework that just exploded! I'm holding the bits in my hand and staring dumbly at the remains, wondering what the bloody hell just happened. Trying naively to work out what I did wrong, and why it blew up, and where the bloody thing came from in the first place. Shocked, hurt, appalled - and yet awestruck with wonder at the startling beauty of the thing. But most of all feeling such a fool for not handling it properly, and for not realising the sheer amazing power of what I just held in my hands. Scared stiff of the wonder of it, but wanting it back. Wanting it more than I ever wanted anything in the whole of my life! But with no idea how to get it back, and slowly - ever so slowly - coming to the realisation that this was probably the only one I am ever going to see - and having no idea of how to deal with the pain of that thought! Such a stupid damn fool I was. Such a stupid damn fool I still am, because I can't - even now - quite let go. The shock inside, tinged with wonder and awe and amazement, still echoing around my heart and my soul, still controlling my thoughts and my actions, still making me act and think like a lovesick fool.

Maybe I'm just a 'dirty old man' who got what he deserved, I don't really know anymore. All I know for sure of is that, given the choice, I would rather die now, this minute, in her arms, than live another thousand years without her.


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