Let’s call her Miss Doritos.
We met at a local cafe at the beach where I swim. Like most lays I have had, there was a sense of the vibe being “on” from the moment we met. A lingering handshake. A stronger-than-usual eye contact. Needless laughing at my jokes. I took her name and we became friends on Facebook. (N.B. I still don’t have her number).
There were a few pings here and there – a scuttled coffee date near my place, a “private drink”, yet nothing eventuated. We saw each other regularly at the beach cafe, exchanging glances and chatting. She met my son who was in town and described him as “lindinho”. We had lunch at the cafe and I teased her about her poorly drawn tattoo and Bernaise sauce dripping off her Eggs Benedict.
Girls of that age – 21, social media savvy – appear to invest more in indirect signalling to someone they are attracted to by liking posts on multiple social platforms. Whenever I would post a portrait photo on Instagram it would be liked, even the obscure ones. I had offered her a photo shoot – a seed that would prove useful.
She disappeared from the cafe after some weeks. I pinged her after a long 1.5km swim, expecting her to be “busy”. She was. I had planned a quiet night and a big dinner to rest and recuperate. I followed up with another ping, this time, related to adventure and excitement and how she was working so much and needed to reward herself. I drew on Tom Torero’s “good girl for Christmas” meme and it worked a treat.
I then sent her a photo (with idea credit to Goldmund) of a bottle of gin and a camera. Both mixed nicely together.
She sent me her address and I went to hers and picked her up. She was dressed casually and it was hard to predict what was to come … until I suggested a bar and she, surprised, thought she was coming to my house for a drink. Only a Gameless loser could lose this one.
At mine we relaxed – I had set up the futon as a bed rather than a lounge so there really was no other place to sit. My idea seed to get her to the house was to take some photos, but an older seed had been planted: I wanted to play her a few tunes on the piano. A colleague had remarked that this would eventually become a “leg-opener” in time … and this had been proved right twice.
I played a few tunes – some soul ballads, a favourite jazz song and then some electronic dance music I had transcribed for the piano. Sitting there comfortably eating Pringles, she didn’t offer me any, so when she finally did, she broke off two pieces and placed them on her breasts, inviting me to eat.
I ate greedily and said we would make out at some point:
“What makes you think that? We are just friends,” she grinned.
“What kind of friend comes over at 9pm and makes him eat Pringles off her breasts? CAUGHT!” I replied and out-grinned her.
I gave her a foot massage and proceeded from there: first legs, then arms, back and finally, her chest. She had big, gorgeous breasts and she was bronzed all over. I think at this point we made out and I remember the kiss – it was a long, continuous hold over the lips, very sensual, and different to other girls, most of whom kiss in waves of feeling.
Her shorts came off, showing a nice green and lean pair of knickers. I sat her head on my lap and gave her a face massage and posed a question – shall I continue all over? She agreed, much to my delight.
I slid my hand through her knickers and then took them off. I couldn’t help myself and just opened her legs and started giving her head. Some girls you struggle to find the clitoris – this was not a problem and it shone brightly like a beacon. She tasted good and later came. I sat her up then I stood up and led her into a blowjob.
I had jokingly heard the Brazilians learn how to give a blowjob at school – it proved true. I had received plenty yet hers had tongue along the shaft and was slow from base to tip.
I later stood her up and in her post-orgasm daze she just stood there waiting to be led with a “where are we going?” vibe. It was a gentle reminder of how easily a girl can be led.
I took her into the bedroom. I was tired after the swim so a little flat. A polite request to her to sit on my face revived my spirits. There’s a great sensation for a man when a girl is sitting on his face and she starts to grind so hard into you that you could suffocate. Eating girls out is intoxicating and I get into a drunk state.
She came two more times that night and I didn’t blow … but what a great experience. There’s that wonderful sensation when you are looking down on a woman as you take her from behind and say to yourself – how did I get here? How on earth did this happen?
And God bless that ripple when you slap a Brazilian butt!
1. Despite her being free that night, I presented no “excitement” to her until I pinged a few messages and photos to create some tension. Simply meeting up was not enough.
2. The initial attraction and “on” feeling when you meet a woman counts for something regardless of the length of the lead-to-close.
3. Long distance exercise and not enough calories can smash your erection.