When I was just getting out of my 1st marriage, I immediately jumped into online dating. It was really the only way I knew how to get myself out to meet new people, as most of my friends were happily married and too busy to just hang out. For anyone who’s been through this experience (I’m kind of thinking many here have), lining up dates through personals ads fit the bill.

Admittedly, I’d had several one-night stands; usually more fun anticipating than the days that followed. Although I wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship, I was looking for a special friend I could feel comfortable with more than once, but without feeling suffocated or committed.

And so there was Paul. He was reticent at first to meet me, since I was just recently separated but eventually, he got past that and asked me out.

At 38, I was probably in the best shape of my life. I was fit and slim and was taking care of myself in ways I’d never tended to before. It was sometime in August when I first met Paul and very warm outside. I was comfortable with how I looked in shorts and skirts and wore a black mini, snug-fitting sleeveless T and nice sandals.

We agreed that I’d pick Paul up from his apartment downtown and go from there for appetizers and wine. When I pulled up in my car, the sun was shining down through the sun roof onto me and Paul hopped in, looked me over and introduced himself. I saw a glint in his eye as he scanned my legs; I smiled in acknowledgment.

It was a wonderful evening of wining and… well, more wining. I hadn’t eaten much so when Paul suggested we hit one more place, I could not move from the couch. He offered to give me his bed and he’d take the couch. From his ultra-tidy dresser, he pulled out a t-shirt for me to sleep in that I quickly changed into. One thing led to another and we ended up having sex. Nothing remarkable (or… maybe it was – I was just too drunk to remember) but the morning that followed was Mmmmm.

By morning, I was sober and very cuddly. Paul got up to start a pot of coffee and returned to the side of the bed, leaning over to kiss me and fondle my breasts. His touch was so gentle and Wow! What a great kisser he was too. His hand moved down to between my legs where he found I was already wet. I spread my legs just enough for him to rub my clit through my panties. Before I knew it, he was swinging my body to the side of the bed and pulling my panties off so he could bury his head between my thighs.

The palm of my hand caressed the crown of his head as I watched him lick and suck. Through my moans, I whispered that I was ready to cum and his tongue and breathing increased in pace until I exploded; juices running down through my butt cheeks and off of his chin. He smiled and kissed my tummy just before he stood and walked out the bedroom door. I saw his naked profile at the food of the bed and his huge erection and asked, “Where do you think you’re going?” He laughed and said he was going to make me breakfast. “Not yet, you aren’t… get back here!” We made love again and I can still remember his cock sliding into me and the slow, rhythmic pace we took with each other, building tension… We whispered to one another how horny we were, how good it felt, etc. I loved when he sucked on my nipples, which made my clit even harder than it already was and I had another orgasm as Paul reached his own climax.

It was the first of many nights to come visiting Paul in his apartment. I’d arrive at Midnight or so and let myself in. He’d sometimes already be in bed, naked with a rock hard erection. I was already wet just knowing he’d be ready when I arrived. We took our time regardless, and gauged one another’s pace, drawing out our orgasms as long as possible.

On the evenings when he was still up and in the living room, we’d lie on the couch and make out for hours, listening to Joni Mitchell, Elvis Costello, Jonatha Brooke or Aimee Mann. Candles lit and an open bottle of wine, we’d talk and playfully flirt by looking into each other’s eyes.

Occasionally, Paul would visit me in my house. On this one particular night, we stood in the living room kissing; I could feel his erection press against my stomach and I was really horny. I loosened his belt and pulled down his pants, got on my knees and started sucking him. He was very hard and the skin around his cock was really tight. I stood again and slipped off my pants and slid his cock into my pussy, wrapping my leg behind him. I nearly came right then and there… but stopped to prolong things. We moved upstairs to my bedroom and took the rest of our clothes off.

Paul and I seemed to have perfected the missionary style; for us, anyway. He loved that I’d lock my ankles behind his knees and I loved that he’d take my lead as to the pace and angle of penetration, slowly building up our arousal. This particular night started out that way but something came over me and I could not hold back. I accelerated the pace and Paul followed but then paused, whispering, “No, no, no… not yet!” I took control again and increased the thrusts and said “Oh yes, yes, yes!” I took off like a race horse and must’ve screamed loud enough to be heard of a passing siren. I heard Paul though, yelling “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” It must’ve been one of the most explosive orgasms I’ve ever had and I think for Paul too (heh… although I never asked). We slept for a few hours after that and he left in the wee hours to go home and get ready for his day.

He didn’t want a relationship at that time, which I knew but I felt I needed to ask one night if he was sleeping with anyone else. He was offended by the intrusion of privacy and said it wasn’t any of my business. I corrected him and said that I felt that it was, since we were not using protection. He loosened up and said that I didn’t need to worry about anything for now. :~

Paul was always a romantic, even though we were not “in” a relationship. He made intense eye contact during love making and would often stop to ask “What are you thinking right now?” What I was thinking was that I wasn’t “in love” with him, but I did love him. I never told him because I thought he would run and this ‘thing’ we had going was just too good to let go of.

Eventually, I met my husband and had to cut Paul loose. Our last evening together was just as wonderful as the others and we hugged and said our good-byes. As I left, I said how much I was going to miss sneaking into his apartment at midnight. He replied by saying “Just don’t move further away than Sellwood.” I haven’t heard from him since but often think about him and hope that he might think of me too from time to time.

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