Further to my previous post http://claudsramblings.wordpress.com/2014/02/01/a-handsome-and-anonymous-frenchman, a morsel of information regarding a certain handsome Frenchman has come to my attention. As such, I thought it would only be appropriate to elaborate on the details of our evening together. I suppose I had better set the scene.
We both lay under my duvet, clothed, chatting, his arm around my shoulders, my cheek not quite touching his chest. The bottle of wine emptied fairly quickly. As I took the last drop from my glass, he turned my face towards his and kissed me; it was the first time our lips had met that evening. I’m not sure I can be entirely sincere as I write this, without explaining the information I received this morning. He has a girlfriend. Somehow his seventeen year old, kind of a big deal friend, managed to track me down on Facebook, through his band profile. The message I received read as follows, ‘Hey, might not be my place, but just to let you know that my mate from Wednesday night actually has a missus. Kinda assumed he wouldn’t have told you, thought you’d like to know. Let your friend know I’d like to get her a drink sometime, cheers Ed x’ Reassuringly arrogant, but I do feel like I owe him one. I may occasionally have questionable morals, but one I always stick to is not to be ‘that girl’. Perhaps I am defenseless in this situation, but I really, seriously did not have a clue. Had I known, I wouldn’t have accepted a drink, wouldn’t have left the bar, wouldn’t have invited him inside and certainly wouldn’t have ended up in bed with him. But I did and as such, all of my beautiful readers are going to get a completely unadulterated account of my evening.
He was a good kisser, a little timid, using no tongue and not holding my head quite tightly enough, I’m bitter aren’t I? We kissed for a long time, he was one of those people blessed with the ability to remove clothes without me so much as noticing. I was completely naked next to his fully clothed body, I tugged at his shirt, pulling the jersey between my knuckles and softly biting the lobe of his ear. He removed his top and with it any doubt that this man wasn’t aware of his attractiveness. He had a waxed chest, definitely not shaven; there was no sign of that dark stubble that flecked his chin. He was incredibly toned, the kind of toned that requires hours each day at the gym. I became quite aware of my curvier form and tried to subtly pull the sheets up to my chest, he noticed and pulled them off me, lifting one leg over mine and straddling me, kissing from just below my ear to the top of my outer thigh. I watched him as he kissed me, his nose grazed my stomach and I breathed in, he looked up at me and raised an eyebrow, I hate self consciousness. His arms were strong and well defined but not ridiculous, not the sort that allow the head to blend seamlessly into the body, almost removing the neck. He was very gentle for quite a big guy. It was almost refreshing after a few weeks of the ever fantastic but somewhat unrestrained Antonio. He moved back up the bed, told me I was beautiful and kissed me, then lay next to me again. With a thumb he parted my thighs and let his fingers tease me, each time I came he settled me with a hand on my chest and put his lips to my forehead. I imagine he is rather an adept guitarist. Eventually I decided I could lie still no more and began to unbutton his jeans, fucking button up jeans. He removed them, lay back on my bed and looked at me. Evidently it was my turn to work, he sat me upright on his cock and observed me quite intently as I circled my hips for him, each time I let my head fall back, he tilted it back towards him, keeping his thumb on my cheek. He told me he liked to watch my face. At this point he put both hands around my waist and copied my movements perfectly with his hands and hips, he kept me sat up like this for a long time, making me pause to allow him to calm down. After several of these pauses I became acutely aware of him throbbing heavily inside me and leant forward until our chests touched. I buried my face in the gap between bicep and neck and told him he could finish. Before I had finished by sentence I felt his cheeks lift against mine, I looked at him and he at me, he smiled and said ‘Just as well’. That was how my evening ended. He left quite early the next morning, taking my number with no intention of calling me. I hate men. Well I hate that man.