Mescal and Chocolate

Monday, New Year’s Eve

My pussy is an uncontrollable machine. Sometimes it has all the working parts except the steam to make this train pull a thousand tons up hill.

Somehow my pussy is ready to burn this fuel, and he walked into my door at just the perfect time.

We met on New Year’s Eve. He made my date jelous. My date said he was flirting with me, and I was flirting back. I thought I was just having an honest conversation with this new Gypsy soul. I couldn’t determine who he was or where he came from.

We met briefly in the kitchen

“Como te llama?” I asked in Spanish, having just came from Mexico, literally just hours before.

“Noah.” He replied, barely taking notice of me as he dug into the snacks on the table, and filliing his cup with libations.

He found me out by the fire pit an hour later. I was about to leave the party then stopped in front of the warmth of the fire. I didn’t know that he was going to be providing me with so much heat days later.

This longhaired, dark skinned man sat down next to me and we blabbed about Sanskrit and the rhythm and intonation in which you would sing a mantra.  We spoke of India and traveling. It really wasn’t important what we said, it was more important that he got my phone number and he used it later on in the week.

My date, Michael and I were now not on good terms. He was jealous, or offended that I ignored him in the light of my new crush, or whatever he was. Michael still managed to suck up his pride, take me home and give me some of the best sex we’ve had. Teasing, spanking, licking in the most divinely perfect way. Not giving me all of his cock all at once; just putting the tip in, holding it still while I writhe all over it. He turned me into a goddess in heat, a Kundalini Tigress, surrendering to his powerful wand. I will never forget that night with him. Despite the mishap, we persevered to make powerful love.

Thursday

Noah texted me, and asked what I wanted him to bring over to my house. We were having a date night after meeting on New Year’s, and I was excited of ths new prospect. I replied with a phone call instead of a text, wanting to remember the sound of his voice. His accent is more apparent over the phone.  It doesn’t come across so strong in person, perhaps because it fits with the rest of him so well.

“Well I did just come from Mexico, so bring some Mescal. And Dark chocolate.”

“Oh you drink Mescal? That says a lot about you. I only drink Mescal with one other friend of mine. And the dark chocolate goes without saying.” He says in a sexy voice, obviously he is used to this game of crawling into women’s beds. Gypsies probably have survived this long by the art of seducing women with nice warm beds in the wintertime.

He arrived an hour late, but with “top shelf” Mescal  (I don’t even know what that is), and a block of European dark chocolate that was so dense we needed a knife to cut through it. I was in my roommate’s bedroom finishing reading her my previous blog about my most recent BDSM session, the one that I received, aka I was a sub. Just giving him a few ideas to peak his interest perhaps.

We make our way into my bedroom. He fills two small glasses with ice and lemon, and a few shots of the Mescal. We warm up on my bed with the drinks, a few bites of chocolate and a much needed ass massage. I had just thrown my back out two days prior due to a rear-end whiplash accident.

Nakedness comes too soon, but things have to move quickly when your new-found lover is leaving town the next day. There’s not really time to waste, and being shy or reserved doesn’t always work in the woman’s favor. I’m here to flip the game a bit; I’m just as much of a player as he is, I like getting cock as much as he likes scoring pussy. As long as the rules of the game are spelled out clearly, I don’t feel like I’m being played. I’m not playing him. We have a mutual need and desire that we can both fulfill for each other.

His dark, strong, & nimble hands take their time, not rushing towards the wet spot in between my legs just because I’m naked.  He slowly works the coconut oil into my skin, taking care around my sacrum, which I just threw out in a car accident.

After relaxing face down into my bed for so long, I turn around, somewhat suddenly, ready to attack. I’m not sure how it started, us kissing, rolling around, his hands in my pussy. My vulva feels like a mouth, ready to feed on him. It wants to chew him up, to digest this fire inside, but the more he touches me the hotter it gets inside. It felt like glowing embers, but so hot my inner temperature grew icey. His fingers played me like a bass, then my treble, and when he touched my clit, my body played in harmony with his.

“I want to be inside of you, you’ve got my cock so hard.”

I take pride and satisfaction in those words.

My pussy is like Pavlov’s dog when a man unwraps a rubber. I quiver and shake in anticipation. What could be perceived as a buzz kill of mounting the cock with a condom is now a buzz thrill. I know I am going to get it, and get it good I do.

The rhythm of him is most noteworthy, other than the undeniable fiery chemistry him and I have; he did me strong and steady, my body to the side, him jamming with my g-spot with the rounded tip of his cock, banging and banging and head banging that note. He rocked out inside of me. My face is contorting, my throat making sounds I don’t usually make because the pleasure is so intense I can’t make a pretty sound. They are more like squeals and chirps and half-screams because the other half gets stuck in my throat. My hands grip the sheets as I take this heavy pounding; but it’s not the usual heavy, it’s more eloquent, perhaps more practiced; he’s not just pounding me with velocity alone, it is with skilled precision and a build up of Gypsy Chi that is churning my butter. Yes that is the perfect metaphor. It felt like he was churning my juices into the perfect consistency of butter.  Very very hot butter.

My gypsy lover holds it in for me for quite some time. I think he comes pretty soon knowing that I’m close to my edge.

We make love again in the morning. If it feels this good, I’m going to be begging for it every time I see him, and will never get enough. This time he works his hands deeper into my pussy until I come, uncontrollably on this musician’s fingers.

The mescal and chocolate did their job. We giggle and smile gazing into each other’s eyes; in satisfaction and peace.