After he finished with a last driving stab he said, “I wanted to last longer but nothing was going to stop that.”
I said I didn’t mind because the intensity with which he was shoving his cock into me was becoming almost too much to tolerate. While I craved as much as I could handle because it had been so long, the reality was that I hadn’t adapted to his size and needed a break from the sensory overload. His orgasm was the easiest way of ending my internal argument about whether to continue or take a breather.
I came to my senses and looked at the mess below me: one shoe on and one discarded so I could get my pants off; pants half-way down one leg and the hem of the other leg held in my hand, half my underwear on and other half lost in my pant leg; glasses over there somewhere and possibly a red indentation on my forehead from being bent over a stepladder and using the top rung to steady myself. Some scenarios make perfect sense at the time (“Hey, of course you can bend me over this stepladder but let me just push it against the desk so it doesn’t shoot into the wall”) but look a trifle confusing on inspection afterwards.
We tidied ourselves and talked about everything but us before he said he should go home. While a little earlier I thought I was being dealt almost too much, I was ready for round two but the new and lower maintenance me put a smile on my face and said it was great to catch up again.
So, yeah, the Country Boy seems to be back. I don’t have a conclusion to write because I don’t know what happens from here. We had exchanged text messages for a few weeks and were warming to the idea of seeing each other again (he was keen from the outset but I was slower and more wary), but yesterday he invited me to visit his office as he was working on the public holiday. I was free and couldn’t think of a reason to say no, so I said yes.