He was sexier than sin & twice as charming...

The man was sexier than sin and twice as charming, he could have easily converted a nun to hedonism. He had swagger, he was bold....he was interested in me. A single mom of two kids who had merely walked into his office for information...but that's not the point...the point is that when I turned to leave he escorted me out and gave me his card. He made me want him so much in a way that I hadn't wanted a man in a very long time. I met him without makeup on...I met him without being dressed to the hilt of fashion and glamour...I met him feeling the most un sexy that I had ever felt and he sparked something in me. When I left him, I drove straight to the cell phone store and bought a car charger so that if I chose to call him, my phone wouldn't die...because I knew that if I dialed that phone I wouldn't want to hang up with someone who piqued my interest so highly.

It took me two days to do it but I called him and the deep, rumbling quality that matched that jet black hair, pale green eyes and that slow sexy smile that he gave me was worth making the phone ring. He chatted with me, alternately talking about things of no consequence and flirting me to the point of distraction. The first phone call was going to be the start of an almost two year love affair. His name is unimportant...what mattered was the level of desire we evoked in the other...secret phone calls, clandestine hotel rendezvous, and on the rare occasion it could be managed; dinner and good wine at my place or his. The secret was for our benefit and no one else's. We were both single and free to do as we pleased, but as people often do...the secret is so much better if you don't share it with anyone.

For a year after this had ended I had agonized over whether or not to keep a journal about it, but I loathed the idea of anyone intruding on what had come to be, my fantasy come to life....and I didn't want to share anything about him. He was beautiful in a very sinful way...like looking at a chocolate cheesecake, strawberries & champagne, and wanting to devour the feast rather than enjoy & take your time on what others would consider your fair share. I wanted him...I wanted his body in ways that were too much for me to handle and the scars I carried from the separation and divorce were so fresh that he always had a knack for making me feel raw and exposed...vulnerable....all the time... The truth was, I alternately loved him and hated him.

There were moments that if he'd asked me to be his, I would have said "yes" without any doubt or hesitation. The first time that I had felt the pressing desire to want more from him was when I had first went to his house I was tired and sweaty from driving and handling errands all day and when I walked into his air conditioned town house it was calming...he just had this way of looking at me and making butterflies dance and yet....soothing me and making me focus on the time we had together. He led me up the stairs to his bedroom and en suite shower and took his time testing the water temperature, gathering towels, & undressing me. So slowly...my slacks slipped off my hips and hit the floor with a soft rustle, my black, cotton, boy short panties followed and then he began unbuttoning my shirt and kissing each inch of exposed flesh as it became accessible to his lush lips. When my blouse and bra hit the floor I was the only one undone and undressed, so I pushed him against the wall in a demand for equality, sliding my hands into his gym shorts I had begun stroking his magnificent cock. It was thick, large, with beautiful veins that I could feel as I stroked my fingertips along the length as it grew rigid in my hand. I begged him to join me and I could feel him smiling against my lips...that was our signal that we were ready to move forward. We laughed a lot in bed...we enjoyed each other. We pushed and challenged one another and I am almost of the mind that had we met at a different time we would still be enjoying what we had for that glorious year and a half of unbridled, erotic bliss. That smile signaled me to push him further...I began inching his shorts over his lean hips and I followed their path with my mouth. I landed on my knees before this man and as our eyes met he brushed my hair out of my eyes and his lips parted as if he wanted to say, "Please." but couldn't quite bring himself to ask for it...to surrender to it...so rather than wait on permission I took. I pulled his hips forward and wrapped my red lipstick painted lips around his cock. I could feel him flexing and growing thicker in my mouth and when we were in the middle of those moments I wanted nothing more than what was going on at that moment in time, between just the two of us and how he made the rest of the world fade away. He moved my hair back and slid himself from my mouth and reached for my hands as I stood and followed him to the shower. The steam had sweat coming from the walls and trickling down our backs as we stepped under the rain of water coming from the shower head.

I luxuriated in the lavender and jasmine scented bath soap being massaged into my skin by his callused hands and his whisper in my ear to hold my hair up so he could get my neck. I could feel the heat of his chest against my back when he reached around to soap my breasts and down the expanse of my belly. My nipples beaded and grew hard against his palms and I arched into his touch, gasping for air and wanting more. I moaned softly as the pressure in my body was making me ache and grow wetter for what his touch was promising me. God he was so good at all of this...seduction. He always made me want more. His fingers rushed rinsing water all over my body and when it was my turn, I stammered, "I've never done this before...I don't know what to do." The immediate kindness that came across his features as he took in the terror on my face....was, very simply put, sweet. It crippled me and the tears began to run down my face as I told him of a loveless marriage to an emotionally damaged and distant man...that my husband had been my first and only until now... I hiccuped and sobbed out that the sexual part of it was easy...it was just physical...but the sensuality, the emotions that were running deep were what was difficult to manage. He handed me a loofah and squeezed the body wash into it and put his hands over mine as we lathered it up and made suds and bubbles cover our hands and he pressed the loofah against his chest with his hand overtop of mine. We made slow, lazy circles of that loofah and I washed each slice of beautiful flesh with the utmost care...hoping that this would be the start of a new and amazing sensual journey into myself. I washed him over and over just enjoying the privilege of a man who wanted me and he stood there and let me without saying a word and as the water ran cold we raced to rinse him off and jump out of the cold, stinging drops of water and into the relative safety of fluffy towels and a four poster bed with a soft cheetah printed cover on it.

He laid me back against that bed and his body slid up mine easily as he kissed me. He liked to kiss...I learned from him that I liked kissing too. He made it fun...a tease with the tip of the tongue, a nip of teeth against my lower lip, fingers in my hair at the base of my neck...hands touching, bodies sliding and kissing. We had eyes wide open kind of sex. Sweaty, sensual, sex with moans and sighs and pleas for more. With him I became sexy. I learned to appreciate the desire for myself and a partner who could match me. When I was with him, when he was inside me...pushing me to the edge of a climax, holding me there, and watching me shatter I learned to beg...shamelessly. He taught me that there was no shame between lovers...that everything was fair game and meant to be enjoyed.

That afternoon, I drove to the house of a man who could bring me to my knees...and in that sweltering Indiana heat as I drove home with the air conditioning off and the windows down my body tingled all the way to my front door. And while I hate the thought of sharing how I felt, parts of the adventure of him and what he gave me...if ever I were given a chance to say thank you...I hope that someday he reads this and smiles, knowing he gave me a remarkable gift and can remember me as fondly as I do him.