I can’t seem to escape this deep sexual ache.
It’s a gnawing hunger that can’t be ascribed to mere arousal. Perhaps it can be attributed to some unaddressed psychic wound. Perhaps it’s simply the primeval desire to “know” a woman in the most physically intimate way possible. Whatever it’s source, it propels me to seek a remedy in sexual release.
It’s this ache that brought me to “Corinne’s” hotel room.
Corinne is a provider visiting from the Midwest. I discovered her on Twitter, was intrigued, and reached out to her. She quickly responded. We arranged an evening engagement.
When we met, she greeted me with a friendly hug. As we became acquainted with one another, I discovered that she had been a graphic designer before deciding to pursue a master’s degree while offering “companionship.” There was a girl-next-door quality to her, the type of girl I’d see at the coffee shop and admire from a distance.
She looked so nice, but….
She also gave off the vibe that she was willing to do bad, bad things.
She unfastened her bra. Her sweet, shapely little breasts beckoned. I caressed and kissed and licked them. Other parts of her body then received ample attention on my part. She generously returned the favor. The condom came on, and she lay back on the bed. She spread her legs open. I never fail to experience a sense of wonder when a woman opens herself up to me. She guided me into her. I pumped into her as she wrapped her legs around me, responding to my rhythm. My balls felt heavy and tight. I wanted to prolong the pleasure, but her squeal sent me over the edge. My balls contracted, signaling the onrush of orgasm. A few more thrusts, and I exploded inside her.
Afterwards I texted her a note of appreciation. A few minutes later she responded:
thank you love 🙂 hope to see you again
The ache was relieved. Temporarily.
Lutheran Guilt 