Earlier, tense. Porno seeming stale and uninspiring, even with a choice of hundreds of new postings, couldn’t find anything exciting, probably my mood rather than their deficiency. Porn excites only one sense, proper sex excites them all.
Familiar after last time with the arrangements. Making my way to Manchester Road as directed, phoning to say I’ve arrived. Final details given. Pressing the apartment number, the front door buzzing open. Up four flights of stairs, Foxy Lady answering the door.
Very attractive but less thin than in her photos, pale smooth skin, foxy features. A smile and some introductory chat. Showing me to a bedroom. Taking the sixty pounds, closing the door behind her as she puts it elsewhere, safe from any male temptation to snatch it on the way out.
Returning. Removing her clothes, clearly expecting me to do the same. Then that exciting first moment as lovers, trying to guess who wants what, what excites and what repels. Foxy Lady hesitant and passive, but willing and compliant. Showing a small jolt of pleasure when understanding what I want, eagerly obliging.
Prolonged sixty-nine, she on top. My skin tingling. Brain filling with infusion of her smells and tastes. The gentle traction of fingertips on her smooth white skin. The delicate coloration of her pussy and sphincter.
After a while, changing position, condom, entering her. But the spell of the sixty-nine somehow evaporated, maybe it was too powerful to last. Foxy Lady sensing the reduced intensity. Exiting her, lying together sideways, relaxing. She stroking my penis, removing the condom, taking me in her mouth, assisting with her hand, patiently persisting until completion.
And now, walking away from Foxy Lady’s apartment, feels like heaven.
