The up­per hand

Be­ing a tease never felt this good

FHM (Philippines) - - VERGE -

It had been al­most three months since I started chat­ting with Paolo, when we matched on Tin­der. He was al­ways in­sis­tent about meet­ing up, grab­bing cof­fee, and then “hang­ing out” af­ter. He was the ag­gres­sive flirty type— you know, the guys who knew they were hand­some. But I was al­ways busy and never in the mood; so I found ex­cuses not to go.

But one night af­ter work, I was feel­ing par­tic­u­larly en­er­getic, and a lit­tle bit horny. I searched through my Tin­der and found our ex­change. He was hand­some, pale with a chis­eled face. I wanted to meet him, fi­nally. So I mes­saged him.

“You up?” I asked ca­su­ally, play­ing it cool. He re­sponded right away, ask­ing where I was. When I told him, he said he would drive over.

Paolo ar­rived at the bar in a T-shirt, loose shorts and sneak­ers; and his eye had an evil twin­kle that only meant bad news. Af­ter in­tro­duc­ing our­selves, he sat be­side me and we flirted for the rest of the night.

“What took you so long to come see me?” he asked, smile ef­fer­ves­cent. He had broad shoul­ders, and would lick his lips mid-sen­tence, which I thought was sexy. I locked eyes with him, and he re­sponded just as I wanted him to when he placed his hand on my thigh. I felt a tin­gle in my stom­ach.

Later, three beers down, his hand slid to my back, as he be­gan to lean into me ev­ery once in a while to whis­per com­pli­ments. And soon, when he couldn’t stop the urge, he said, “I want you now.” He moved his hand around my waist and pulled me closer to him. His eyes darted down to­ward my cleav­age, which was ex­posed through my top. “I want to suck your tits,” he said with a se­ri­ous tone. “You’re so hot. Let’s get out of here.”

He took my hand and we darted out­side, hop­ping into a taxi to take us to his apart­ment. In the back­seat of the car, he placed his hand up my skirt, slowly inch­ing it higher un­til he brushed against my un­der­wear, try­ing to hide what he was do­ing from the view of the driver. I didn’t move when he slid it higher, pre­tend­ing noth­ing was hap­pen­ing, but my breath was get­ting heav­ier and heav­ier. “You’re wet,” he whis­pered in my ear. I placed my hand on his thigh, and moved it across his crotch. Un­der­neath his pants, I could feel him hard and hot.

When we got to his place, he flung the door open. He pushed me against the wall, im­pa­tient to kiss me while mov­ing his hands down to un­but­ton my shirt.

“Show me your body,” he com­manded. He wanted me to strip for him. So I un­but­toned my top first, teas­ing him. He groaned in ap­proval. “Re­move your skirt,” he com­manded again. So I reached to the back of my skirt, and slowly slid the zip­per down, mak­ing my skirt drop to the floor. He moved his fin­ger to his lips, nod­ding with ap­proval. “Come here,” he said, grab­bing my hand, and then push­ing me down to my knees. “I want you to lick me clean,” he said as he un­buck­led his belt, un­but­toned his pants, and pulled them down to his knees.

He was well-en­dowed and hard as a rock. He gath­ered my hair in his hands as I knelt in front of him, and he moved his cock to­ward my face. I started kiss­ing his balls, peck­ing them lightly. A friend had told me this was a weak spot for many men, and sure enough, his knees weak­ened as I breathed into his scro­tum. First I took one in, suck­ing it slowly and slather­ing it with my saliva. His eyes rolled to the back of his head with eu­pho­ria. And then I licked the other one—tak­ing it in, cup­ping it with my lips, and then slowly let­ting it go, in and out of my mouth, rolling my tongue over the sen­si­tive skin. He moaned even louder this time, grab­bing my hair tighter in his hands. I moved my mouth up now through his shaft, lick­ing ev­ery inch of him and tak­ing his en­tire mem­ber in­side my mouth, down to the back of my throat, deep in­side me, mov­ing my head up and down. I heard him scream and grunt, un­able to deny his plea­sure, as my pace quick­ened.

Be­fore long, he let out a loud grunt, and then he came in­side my mouth, the hot liq­uid pour­ing as I swal­lowed ev­ery­thing, lick­ing him clean, as he wanted. When it was over, I smiled at him from be­low, be­fore stand­ing up to put on my clothes. “You’re amaz­ing babe,” he said, sat­is­fied and tired.

Af­ter I was dressed, I turned to him. He sat on the couch and said with dis­be­lief, “No one has ever made me come that fast.”

I smiled. “Nice to meet you,” I said and kissed him on the cheek. And I walked out the door with­out an­other word.

“You’re leav­ing al­ready?” he asked, sur­prised. But I closed the door be­hind me with­out leav­ing an an­swer. The next day, he couldn’t stop call­ing me, send­ing me mes­sages. “I can’t stop think­ing about you,” he said, beg­ging to meet up again. Maybe next week when I’m in the mood, I thought.

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