The Turk came for playtime!

 

First Impressions

The Turk is an interesting one. He’s both my type and definitely not my type at the same time. Not as tall as I usually go for, carrying more of a dad bod than a bodybuilder’s frame, but with an intensity that I couldn’t decide if I liked or not. On paper, it doesn’t sound promising but he wasn’t bad at all.

I’ve learned that I carry the echoes of every past meet into the next one. That baggage shapes how I read people and how I choose to play.

Bringing me Baileys

He arrived with a gift in hand and gave an encouraging nod at my outfit. We chatted easily enough, his intense eye contact never faltering. Eventually he kissed me: gentle, then passionate, his tongue finding mine in a rhythm that was almost too certain.

I’ve been experimenting with letting men lead more. It’s one thing to be wanted because I please someone; it’s another to be wanted because they want to please me. Lately I’ve felt neglected by some partners, and that dulls my enjoyment. I find myself withdrawing, waiting to see what they’ll initiate next. Too often, the answer is nothing.

Even with the Turk, after kissing me and touching my boobs, he didn’t go further. Was he waiting for his turn to be pleasured? Or was he unsure what to do?

Taking Control

I straddled him, grinding against him while his hands held my breasts and his tongue tangled with mine. His kisses were good, though sometimes too forceful, a reminder that passion doesn’t always need to mean harder. Still, he didn’t take the lead.

I got off his lap and only then did he eventually kneel to bury his face between my legs. His tongue worked quickly, frantically, and he managed to keep the same rapid pace. It was impressive in speed, but lacked the build-up I crave - the slow kisses over my body, the teasing licks over my thong, the escalation that can tip me over completely.

His thick fingers moved inside me, but my head had already taken a sharp left into self-doubt. I wanted to please him, and knowing I wouldn’t cum from this approach made me feel like I was failing him. Broken. A slow-loading web page in the age of fibre broadband. I gently encouraged him to stop and pulled him into a kiss instead.

Giving Back

I decided to reciprocate. In the past, giving head was something I adored, but too many greedy or selfish men have made it feel like an obligation rather than a desire.

Still, I kissed my way down, brushing my lips over his soaked underwear. Taking him in my mouth through the fabric made him groan, and when I pulled them down I kissed his balls, worked up his shaft, and finally took him into my mouth. He wasn’t so big that I needed to deepthroat, but his cock was as hard as rock. My hand and mouth worked together and he stopped me several times to avoid cumming too soon - a good sign, I suppose, that he liked it.

The Finale

He hadn’t brought condoms, so I grabbed one of mine. Once it was on, I climbed on top. Our rhythm didn’t quite match, but I trusted my own grinding and touched my clit until I came. His growl as he climaxed in sync with my own orgasm.

Reflections

I can’t fault the Turk for effort. The sex was good, but his intensity off the bed leaves me hesitant. He wants a lot of my attention, and I’m not sure I want to give it. He definitely wants to come back though. So, watch this space.

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