Unlucky candidate #1 – the return

 

If you've been with us from the start, you might remember Unlucky Candidate Number One. Yeah, the Yank.

Well… someone slid back into my inbox, and yeah, we hooked up.

Things had changed a little. He’d clearly seen the fun we’ve been having (thank you, Fab verifications), and this time, he seemed more chilled, more grounded. He’d actually moved further away, which made things more complicated but we chatted regularly and aimed to find a time to meet for a proper social.

To be fair, he pencilled in and cancelled multiple times.
And yes, I did start to think he was a time-waster.

But eventually, we locked in a plan: a casual social with the option to play if the vibe was right.

It was a Friday, everything went wrong, and I ended up running late which I hate. The pub was packed due to either a wedding or funeral - hard to tell which - and the general crowd was... rough. But we found a quiet(ish) corner in the garden, grabbed a drink, and started chatting.

And here’s where things stayed odd.

He wasn’t shy or awkward. But he also didn’t really ask any questions. There was no real effort to build conversation or show much interest, even though he claimed to be interested. Honestly, it felt a little flat. But I think it’s his style as he was happy to talk and answer any questions.

Still, I was determined not to overthink.
And in true me-style, I made the executive decision to race him back home.

That bit?
Definitely fun.

Once home, he had a drink while I changed. We sat on the sofa, and I let him set the pace. I wasn’t in the mood to lead this one and that turned out to be an unexpectedly excellent decision.

What followed was probably the most surprising meet we’ve had - and not for the usual reasons.

He started by kissing me. Slow, deep, thorough kisses. His hands played gently with my boobs, and while you might think, what’s new there? the way he did it was… different.

I breastfed for eight years. My nipples are not typically a go-to pleasure zone. It usually takes a firmer hand or some serious creativity to get a reaction. But he was soft. Gentle. Intentional.

And over time, with absolutely no rush, he built pressure, moved rhythmically, and teased out a level of sensation I’ve never had from just nipple play. Genuinely. My whole body responded, and I found myself sinking deeper into it, completely surprised by the intensity.

At some point, he slipped my underwear off and applied the same approach to my clit.
Delicate. Consistent. Devoted.

He whispered soft affirmations, calling me perfect, praising how I felt and responded. And with a slow build of movement, his fingers moved inside me and I was dripping.

Eventually, I moved to kneel in front of him, reaching for his cock. I love the feeling of touch, the weight of it, the shift in control. I took him into my mouth slowly, savouring the way he responded while he continued to finger me and I had my fingers gently stroking my clit.

And then… I came.

Right there on the floor. My knees planted, his hand between my thighs.

 
It was hot. Unexpectedly intense. And completely different to the kind of sex I usually write about.

He came too, as I gently sucked him shortly after, with no fanfare, no chasing it. Just a slow, sensual release.

There was no penetration.
And yet, neither of us left unsatisfied.

If anything, I’m very curious about what a second meet might bring. Because honestly? That level of control, patience, and sensuality isn’t something I come across often. It’s not the fireworks I thought I was looking for…

But maybe it’s a slow burn worth exploring.