The Over-Educated Nympho

Please forgive me for taking a while to post about last night. I’ve been basking in the afterglow of man-ness.

Last night I had my second date with Jazz Man. Based on the kissing alone on our first date, I was anticipating a fantastic time.

We met at a 24-hour restaurant after his jazz gig. Originally we had planned on me going to watch him perform, but that didn’t work out. After food and a lot of talking, we went back to Jazz Man’s place. The first thing I saw when I walked in was two long black leather whips hanging from the rafters. This looks promising, I thought. He saw me eying them, so he picked up a DVD called “Fundamental Whipcracking Techniques” and showed it to me. Wow, the guy makes sure he does his shit right.

I’m not sure whether it was nerves or the fact that we were having fun joking around, but it took a while to get things going. Handsome Twosome texting Jazz Man on his cell phone “call me when yer done” made it difficult to get past the giggles to the get-it-on phase. We were being quite nerdy and sharing favorite internet sites on his computer.

Fortunately this gave me a great start position to get things going. I was sitting in the computer chair, and Jazz Man sat on the floor next to me. Hmmm. I turned to face him and spread my legs. The mini-skirt was not enough to hide anything. He noticed. Coyly I wheeled across the tile floor until my legs were spread on either side of his body. I grinned and leaned down to kiss Jazz Man.

Automatically my hands cupped his face and neck. His hands slowly found their way to my legs and started caressing the bare skin.

I love to feel a man’s face in my hands. I don’t know why, but I’ve always kissed this way. Maybe it’s the feeling of his rough jaw against my own soft skin, the sight of his stubble against my smooth fingers. Whether it’s a sense of possession or being completely fully there in the moment, I don’t know. Kissing with such intensity is enough to make me wish I could pull someone inside me and swallow him whole.

Jazz Man’s hands continued to explore the length of my calves. His touch was soft but sure, which only made me that much hungrier for more.

Slow at first, our mouths began to open wide in a complimentary rhythm of probing tongues. After a while I pulled back to look in his eyes. They opened and gave me a look that said he was down for anything I wanted. I tilted his chin up and kissed then nipped at his neck. Oh, how long it’s been since I’ve done this. Too long. A moan hummed from deep inside his throat.

“I think it’s time to move to the bed,” I whispered in his ear.

He jumped up and led me to his bed. He lay down first and waited for me.

This is one of my favorite moments. I moved toward him like a tigress with nothing but wicked thoughts between my legs. Laying over his body, I pinned him with my left leg pulled up taut alongside his torso and my right extending down the length of his own leg. I pressed my hips into his as I went in for a slow, deep kiss. His response was eager and willing.

Jazz Man’s hands started on my back and gradually moved to my tensed thigh. It’s funny to think that back in high school I was teased for these very thighs, being thick with unfeminine power and muscle. Who’s laughing now, bitch? Certainly not the man between them.

My left hand had been cupping his face so I could get at the delicate line where his neck and jaw meet. With one of Jazz Man’s hands on my leg and the other on my back, they both moved to my ass. They rubbed and then dug in. His hands pushed me down onto his dick at the same time his pelvis tilted up. I ground against him with my hips and wondered how long I’d be able to behave.

When Jazz Man had had enough, he expertly flipped me over and took top. “I need to get at that neck,” he grinned.

I like the way this guys thinks, I said to myself. Very promising indeed. It was so nice to be laying on top of a guy with his arms wrapped around me and his cock writhing underneath me once again. This was worth the wait.

I stretched my arms over my head and waited for what was to come.

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