I’ve said it before: I don’t really like writing sex. The truth is, the actual sensual part of sex, the part where you suck my cock, where I lick your cunt, where I s-l-i-d-e my cock slowly into you, where I pound it into you, isn’t, at all, the most interesting part to me. The most interesting part is all the stuff that happens before-hand, and in our heads.
Recently, I had a date with Isabel. It was much-anticipated. We had had two previous abortive dates. We both were, um, ready. I had told her that I wanted her not to speak, when we met. That she was welcome to bring a note to me, and/or a notepad, and paper. She was, she told me later, concerned that this had been my attempt to shut her up, not to hear from her, to put distance between me and her. It wasn’t. At all. I thought it would be hot for her to be silent. (She likes to talk – whenever a woman does something she might not otherwise do, or doesn’t do something she might otherwise do, for me, that’s hot. So restricting her talking is hot – not because I don’t want to hear what she has to say, but because she wants to say much.)
I could tell you about the time we spent naked together, about the fucking, the licking, the sucking, the spanking, the fingering, the rubbing. But that’s never the best part of reading about my dates. (Not to say it’s not important. Here are the main, important things about the sex part: we spent about four hours together, of which 3 1/2 were spent naked, the first thirty minutes or so teasing, and the last thirty minutes or so talking. She came a bunch, I’m pretty sure. I came once.)
But instead of telling you about all that, I thought I’d share with you (most of) the notes she passed to me in the bar before we adjourned:
Thank you N.
Do you prefer I call you N or Nick? [I think I said, “N.”]
Why is that?
I was curious to know if you ever played this game before…. [Not per se. I’ve played with silence, and I did have one date with a woman whom I didn’t want to listen to, and so I forced her not to speak, just to write, but that wasn’t so much “hot” as “damage control.” In retrospect, I should have simply ended the date.]
It’s tough to be silent. Won’t you get bored w/ one-sided conversation?
Can I say “Thank you”?
I can’t write as fast as I think.
U told me. Ahh, ok. Really? I can’t correct you?
Is that ok to say? (Write, rather?)
Vedic. It’s like TM. Mantra.
I trust you.
That’s “we” in Italian. You’re close, by the way.
The last time we were here & I went home. I NEVER lost it. And I can’t fucking remember why my handwriting got so messy or when – what a waste of a sentence, and paper, and NOW I remember what I wanted to ask…. But maybe it’s not appropriate. So. I will put the cap on my pen and drink my drink and be ready to go….
And with that, she was ready to go. A few minutes later, my cock was in her mouth, and it didn’t leave for some time….