Mr. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
The second man I was with after my affair
3:00 in the morning. He had me close to his chest. His arm around my waist. I could feel his heartbeat beating into my back. His breathing became deep. I knew he had fallen asleep.
Me? I was wide awake. Thoughts were racing through my head. First of all, I needed my space to sleep. I usually sleep like a starfish. On my stomach. Here I was on my side, with a man wrapped around me. I didn’t like it. I couldn’t breathe.
But, I didn’t move. I didn’t want to wake him. So I kept still. I’d never spent the night with anyone before. This was my first time actually sleeping with someone else. I didn’t know what the rules were. Would he be offended if I shifted? Was it considered insulting to remove oneself from another’s grasp?
All I could think about was him. The one before. The one I’d loved. I wanted to know what he was doing in that moment. Probably with his wife. But me? I was in the arms of a millionaire.
Literally. The man I was in bed with was a plastic surgeon. Good looking? Eh. It was his personality that attracted me to him. He was kind. Genuine. Respectful. Everything that he wasn’t.
We met on Facebook. I received a friend request from him. The strange thing was we had zero mutual friends. But for whatever reason, I accepted it. He looked handsome in his profile photo. But his work credentials is what really made me accept.
Almost immediately, he messaged me. We started chatting. Mainly about our work lives. I liked him. I hadn’t met the guy in person and I knew I’d like him. He was funny and seemed sweet. He had a dog as do I.
The downside? He didn’t live in NY. He was in Philadelphia. However, while he was texting me, he was in Europe on vacation. He said he was coming into JFK the next day and asked if I’d like to have dinner.
Once again, I accepted. Even if it was just one dinner, I still wanted to meet the guy. He was kind and seemed very interested in my work life. The glamorous life of an event planner in New York City.
The rest of the day, we continued texting. Joking. He sent me photos of the view from his room in Europe. Then, our next conversation goes something like this:
Him: I’m trying to figure out how old you are.
Him: 25 or 26?
I had to leave him on read for a minute. I was 22. Would it intrigue him that I was so young? Or would he run the other way.
Me: Actually…I’m 22
Him: What! Oh I think I’m too old for you.
I had calculated through his school years that he could only be 35 or 36.
Me: How old are you?
Him: I’m 42.
Shit. He was old. But, I did really want to meet him. So, I told him age didn’t matter to me.
The next evening, I met Mr. Surgeon for dinner at a cute little Italian restaraunt on Madison Avenue. He had sent me a photo of his glass of wine beforehand and I tried to figure out where he was sitting. I found him. Attractive. Well dressed in a crisp white shirt. Everything seemed promising. But then he stood up to give me a hug, and he was as tall as me….
Aside from the fact that he probably shopped in the little boys department, we got along splendidly. He loved to listen to me. As many times as I tried to learn about his life, it always circled back to mine.
After he paid, he walked me back through Central Park to catch my train. He gave me one of those half cheek half lip kisses.
I really liked him. Maybe I could overlook the fact that he was small. Would it be so awful to just be with someone who was a good human and not a good looker?
A few days later, he asked to see me again that coming weekend. He’d come into the city. And also, would I want to spend the night with him. And his words were “ no pressure”. He’d only be the second man I’ve been intimate with. Did I want that? A total stranger? I really liked him. And even though there’s a three date rule before you should sleep with someone…I said yes. Also, I just really wanted to be fucked.
I hadn’t had sex in 5 months. I missed it. That abandon in the bedroom. Or in my case, hotel room. I wanted to have a man on top of me. Feel that weight. Well, wouldn’t be much weight with his one.
That Saturday night, we had a late dinner. Great wine and food. Excellent conversation. We both have a love for music so we found a jazz club. More drinks(more than I should’ve had). We were there until 1:00 in the morning. Then we then got a car back to his hotel.
I was between drunk and tipsy. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. Makeup still intact. Hair had flattened a little but it was fine. I gave it quick toss, washed my mouth out, and went back out.
He’d dimmed the lights and had opened a baby cham from the mini bar. There he was sitting on the bed holding two glasses. I took one from him and sat down. We clinked glasses, took a sip, and then…it began.
He leaned in and started to kiss me softly. Quite nice. We were trying our best not to spill our glasses. So, I took them and stood up to put them down. I wanted to try things with this guy. Experiment. What could I do to really turn him on?
I slowly turned back to face him. I let the straps of my sheer camisole top slip off my shoulders. I unbuttoned my pants and slinked out of them. He stood up and did the same. He then took me by my waist and pushed me on to the bed, took my top off, and laid on top of me.
The making out was nice. His hand slipped down to my breast. But then….he pinched my nipple. Was this a normal thing I didn’t know about? Was he trying to stimulate me? Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t my thing. If you’re gonna touch that area, just grab the whole thing for God’s sake.
He pulled my panties off and began touching me. This, he was good at. Great at in fact. After a while he got off of me, turned the lights off completely, and took his pants off.
Here we go, I thought. He pulled back the covers and got under. I scooted up more and got under as well. More kissing. He began stroking my inner thigh. I loved it. He pulled me on top of him. I kept kissing him but I knew what I had to do.
Ok, I’d never been on top before. The other one was always on top or behind. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. But I had seen enough movies where that’s the situation. So I did my best to replicate what I saw.
I reached underneath myself and tried to find his dick. I wasn’t paying attention to what I felt in my hand. I was focused on getting it in me. Now I don’t know if it’s because I was drunk or the other one had been quite large but…I couldn’t tell if it was in or not.
Oh but he knew. I could tell by his face. Yup, it indeed was in. I started to ride him. Rocking back and fourth. I threw my head back. I was not enjoying myself in the least bit. I faked my way through it.
He was so into it. He kept saying “fuck”. He did the nipple thing again. I was then flipped on my back. I remember thinking I could finally take a break. Let him do all the work.
It was awful. Like a jack rabbit. Bang bang bang! He kept grunting. Thank god he couldn’t see my face. I wanted him to finish. I just remembered thinking, please cum please get out of me.
Well, he came. He gave a huge sigh. Laid his head on my chest. I put my hand on it. He started to give my neck soft kisses. That’s when he rolled off of me, pulled me into him, and fell asleep.
Back to 3:00 in the morning. That is why, I couldn’t fall asleep. I didn’t know what to make of what I’d just experienced. Oh let’s face it. It was bad sex. Awful. And I knew he felt so proud. What killed me is that he was such a nice guy. But he had such a tiny dick…
I had dozed off for a bit. What woke me was him stroking my body. I had a feeling round 2 was about to start. I fluttered my eyes open, reached behind me and grabbed his neck.
That is all he needed. In a second he was back on top of me. Jack-rabbiting again(more like a jackhammer to be frank). He finished again. This time, started to kiss my hips, and then rolled over to his side of the bed.
I was free. I finally fell asleep for a whopping two hours. When I woke up, I had somehow wound up on his chest. He was awake watching me. There was such a kind look in his eyes. Affection. I smiled and said good morning. Just as I was about to get out of the bed, he pulled me to him.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, round 3 was about to begin. I tried to enjoy myself this time. He began the thigh stroking again. His nails weren’t particularly short. The way they felt against my skin gave me chills.
Just because I didn’t enjoy what was going on underneath while I was on top, I physically liked being on top. It gave me a sense of power. Something I think he liked. I started to go up and down on top of him. I grabbed both my breast and clutched them.
My breathing became faster. I could feel my heart racing. Fuck the other one. I could have any man I wanted. I felt invincible. Who needs one man when I could have hundreds? That’s when I decided in that moment, I wouldn’t truly give a man my heart ever again. That was mine. He could see a glimpse of it, but not the whole thing. I didn’t want to get hurt again.
While I was having my epiphany, he decided to flip me on my back and went bang bang bang. I don’t know what made me do it, but I took his face in my hands, and kissed him. I think it’s because I knew this wouldn’t happen again. Mr. Surgeon gave me a wonderful night out. I couldn’t remember last time I had really enjoyed myself. And I grew to like the sex we had. Whenever I think about it, there are some parts that really turn me on.
After I’d showered and got dressed, I came out of the bathroom. Started to pull my things together. He was watching every move I made.
I asked him, “ What?”
“ You’re just so beautiful.”
I’d been called beautiful before. By friends and family. But not in the way he said it. It was loving. The other one had always called me “gorgeous” or “sexy”. Even “hot”. But never “beautiful”. I liked being called beautiful. It made me feel like a better person.
As I walked the streets of New York at 7:30 in the morning, I couldn’t help but think about all the men that are running around in this town. I liked Mr. Surgeon. But he didn’t live here. I wanted a man. A real man. Maybe I’d finally let someone buy me a drink at a bar. Or give my number.
I discovered a new confidence in myself that morning. A confidence that had always been there, but tucked away. Well, it was back. And I couldn’t wait to flaunt it about. I stay in touch with Mr. Surgeon. He has a new girlfriend now. I’m happy for them. When he asked about my love life, I was very pleased to say that there have been other men. Many other men.