Metro: The Champagne Room

Next Wednesday was there in a flash. I laid out a beautiful cheese board and created a make-shift Moroccan dinner table with a blanket and pillows on the floor since I didn’t yet have a couch in my new apartment.

He brought the wine, and we sat on the floor carrying on, eating, drinking, laughing and talking for hours. At one point, we locked eyes and stopped talking. He moved closer and grabbed me around the waist to pull me next to him. He gave me a long, deep kiss.

We moved the wine, music and us to the bedroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed and he bent down, cradled my head and kissed me. With locked mouths, he slowly pushed me back on the bed and positioned himself between my legs.

I felt his hardening cock against my pussy as he pushed himself into me over my low cut black dress. He grabbed both of my breasts, pressed them together, and buried his face kissing and rubbing them.

He unzipped the front of my dress and slid it off my arms. I unbuttoned his dress shirt to reveal orange tanning bed skin. He was also not very fit, which is totally fine, but I wondered what he might look like if he spent half as much time in the gym as grooming and primping.

I lost my thrill.

I broke away from the heavy make-out session by skipping the song. We talked and joked for a bit before he moved in again. I liked him and I wanted to be turned on, but my brain just wasn’t in it.

He removed the rest of his clothing and the hairlessness continued. He was completely shaved. Now, of course, I appreciate some manscaping down below, but no hair made my pussy turn into a desert.

But ugh! I had taken him to the Champagne Room so now I felt like I needed to follow through despite my lack of excitement.

The wine didn’t do me any favors either when he started licking my pussy. After a few minutes of going no where, I stopped him by pulling him up to my other lips for a kiss.

I threw enough passion into it so as to move things forward as quickly as possible. In missionary, I moved around, grabbed him and made enough noises to get him to finish.

He dressed, we said our good-byes and he was out the door in 15 minutes. I was asleep 5 minutes after that.

“It was a most enjoyable time. You were a wonderful host. What did you think of our interaction late in the evening? Did it fire on all cylinders? (Adult question on compatibility.)”

How to answer? I wasn’t attracted to his body, but he did make me laugh and we had fun conversations. I decided I should try one more time, perhaps with less wine next time. Plus, as much as I’d like to be honest, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Yes, I enjoyed the adult compatibility, so fun to roll around in bed with you! Just sometimes the wine hits me too hard and so I knew I’d never be able to orgasm. Didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“Okay. Totally understand the alcohol factor, as I was numbed a bit too. The activities were certainly one-sided to the extent of almost being self-serving. I was not sure whether to attribute such to fatigue or our elevator not being able to reach high floors ;)”

“And may I ask your opinion?”

“I think additional nakedness is in order.”

Later in the day.

“So you’re telling me you were just tired and it wasn’t one of those ‘I’d rather masturbate in the shower’ type of dynamics?”

“I wouldn’t be writing to you if I wanted to you go away now would I silly?!?”

“Well, we’ll have to devote some conversation to what really gets you off crazy. Far from my preference to leave a woman high and dry (figuratively).”

I appreciated his concern in wanting me to be pleasured. I had a renewed interest and hope that the sex could work on the next go-round. Plus his compliments were endearing. I sent him a selfie in between work meetings.

“Could you be any more frickin’ adorable? Seriously! That picture makes me want to make out with you for hours.”

“You know you couldn’t make out with me for hours. You’d never be able to stand that much hotness for that long!”

“I have so much cum for you. Shame to blow it into a rubber, but such is life.”

“Such is life…”

“No fun at all, but I realize you are with a number of men, so I understand.”

“Safety first!”

“Better pick the one you like best.”

What?? Weird.

“Truth be fully told (I have alluded to it and finally need to say), I have been trying to reconcile that the sex was not good. I am sorry to say that because I have otherwise absolutely enjoyed our shared times. Perhaps it was just a stumble the first time out of the gate…too much vino, as we have discussed, etc.”

“I would agree, but I really do think, and would like to, we should try again.”

“I am mindful of the feelings of others. It’s a sensitive topic and I respect you as an amazing lady that has crossed my path. Noted. We are 40 after all.”

I thought we were back on the same page. Not sure why I was trying so hard to have sex with him again. Perhaps part curiosity. Part he was nice and made me laugh. Part was a little offended he said the sex was not good and wanted to prove him wrong. Yeah that last one more than I’d like to admit.

During a round of sexting, he requested a naked pic of my pussy and then added this lovely comment.

“Hey…we are trying to make up for one of the worst first nights of sex in history.”

“Are we now?!?”

Ok, not offended, pissed. WTF?!? It went from ‘not good’ to ‘worst first nights of sex in history?’ I blew it off, but the drama was getting ridiculous.


“After some extended thought, how about we be F but no WB? 🙂

1) I really like you A LOT, which is why I need to be 100 percent honest with you.

2) The initial sex was so horrifically bad (truly the worst in any memory) that seconds seem like a reluctant and forced task rather than a strong desire.

I prefer a partner who participates strongly, wholeheartedly, energetically and somewhat crazily rather than lying lifeless and disinterested.

3) Long term condom sex is of zero interest, as it radically impedes sensation, intimacy and sexual activity overall. We just can’t reach incredible heights that way.

4) FWB is an awesome proposition, but I would rather have it with someone that is into exploring our amazing sexuality (even if for a limited time) rather than playing concurrently with a cast of…many.

This text brings a tear to my eye because we have so much to explore together…but the circumstances just aren’t right for me. Cheers.”

Ok now I was just simply livid! Just ridiculous…Really? Seriously? You aren’t gay? Cause the drama is thick as a bear’s chest hair!

I’ll give him props for being open and honest, but why did he have to insult me, yet again, in the process? I wanted to write a long nasty fuck off text back so bad, but instead I went to the gym to blow off steam. I came home and in the shower decided I wasn’t going to let his crazy shit keep my brain occupied any longer.

A good way to me to answer ridiculous drama was to barely answer it.

“Ok no worries, take care and best wishes…”

I got satisfaction with the hope that maybe he got pissed with a ‘whatever, I barely care’ response. The Champagne Room is closed!

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