You don’t need to be my type to make me gush

 

So with all the luck I’ve been having with single men lately, maybe it’s no surprise that I’ve found myself actually enjoying married ones.

Let me introduce Cawston. Married. Older. And, just my luck, living too far away. We’d been chatting for a little while before arranging to meet at a local pub. Things kicked off with a moment of unexpected entertainment when the barman accidentally threw a pint of Guinness over another patron. We laughed, got our drinks, and settled into an easy rhythm of conversation before heading back to mine.

This was something of an experiment. Cawston was older than I usually go for, and in terms of looks, he wasn’t exactly my type. But I wasn’t looking to date. I was looking to be fucked well. And I had a feeling he might deliver.

He was quiet, but not shy. There was a confidence about him that felt grounded rather than cocky. We kissed. He touched. His hands found the right spots more often than not, and when he said he could make anyone squirt, it turned out he wasn’t exaggerating.

He had me laid back, kissing slowly down my legs and then between them. His tongue teased my clit while his fingers moved with purpose inside me. He adjusted his angle, and as his hand moved faster, I felt the gush and heard it too. He just grinned.

Then came the command: “Get down and suck my cock.” I was only too happy to oblige. He stood, and when I pulled his pants down, his big, hard cock sprang up. An absolutely mouthwatering sight. I started with gentle kisses, trailing up his shaft, which seemed to go on forever. Taking him into my mouth, I worked slowly on his head, wrapping my tongue around him and trying to take more. His size made it a challenge, but one I was happy to tackle.

After a while, he asked me what I wanted. From our earlier chats, I knew he wasn’t usually into a girl on top, but that just happens to be one of my favourites. So I asked, “Was my head good enough to earn a quick ride?”

He smiled and said yes.

I climbed on top of him and eased myself down. He filled me so deeply it was almost overwhelming. I moved slowly, grinding against him, adjusting to the stretch. The sensations built quickly. Strong. Intense. I came hard, riding wave after wave of pleasure.

As the climax faded, I looked down and saw him exhale deeply. “You made me cum,” he said.

This from a man who claimed to dislike women on top.

We took a break. He hit the bathroom. Then he came back and said, “I’m ready.”

And we were off again.

He knew exactly how to fuck. His depth had me pulling away while he held me tighter, driving into me with purpose. This man was something else.

We finished with me on my knees, his cock back in my mouth. He groaned as he came, coating my breasts with his thick, hot load.

He took a few photos for my memory book. We cleaned up. Then he was off, back home to his wife.

Not every encounter is about romance. Sometimes it’s just about connection, chemistry and satisfying your own needs. Cawston surprised me and left me smiling long after he was gone.