Even now as I think back about my one night stand with Francesca, it seems slightly surreal. We met online, and agreed to meet up for a drink and a movie. Not dinner, we didn’t want to make that kind of a commitment without even knowing each other, just a drink.

We met at a very non-descript bar. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, and she had a glass of white wine, which both felt appropriate for the summer. Sometimes the get to know you chit chat of when you first meet somebody can be very banal, and sometimes it can be excited. This was part of the former.

Where we grew up, what we do now, where we went to school, all that stuff. Yawn. Not that this wasn’t all good information to know. But I was already starting to get that cookie-cutter feeling, and we barely even knew each other.

I did learn that she had been broken up with her ex for about six months now. She mentioned that she sometimes had a hard time staying away, but kind of let her voice trail off. Clearly the single glass of wine and our half hour of conversation wasn’t enough to pry whatever was behind her words out into the open. To be honest, I wasn’t really concerned. If she wanted to tell me, she would. If she didn’t, she didn’t.

We finshed our drinks, I paid the tab, and we left. It’s not like I wasn’t enjoying hanging out with Francesca, but there weren’t fireworks. She was a cute girl, about 5'4, Italian/Irish background, small perky breasts, and average length brown hair. If she were a car, she’d be a Toyota Camry. You’ll get where you’re going, but you won’t turn many heads in the process.

From the bar we went to the multiplex that was a few minutes away. I don’t even remember what movie we went to go see, other than that it was a slow period piece. Those kinds of movies don’t tend to be my favorite, but she mentioned wanting to see it, and in we went.

The theater was approximately 40%, which wasn’t bad considering it had been out for awhile. We grabbed seats towards the back, and sat down.

It became clear to me that this movie wasn’t really going to do anything for me, so I took it upon myself to try to find distraction in other places. My left hand found its way on to her leg, just above her knee. She moved her hand to my leg. No words were said, no glances exchanged, just hands. I began tracing little patterns on her legs, slowly creeping upwards. She simply stroked in a delibrate back and forth motion, moving higher as she went as well. It was hard to tell if I was turning her on, or if she was bored, but I wasn’t exactly complaining.

My cock was slowly stiffening, while my brain was racing through the possibilities. It’s not like this was a nearly empty theater. There were people behind us, in front of us and on either side. It didn’t really seem to matter though, as everybody was a lot more interested in the movie than we were. Even to the casual onlooker, we appeared interested in the movie as well. And not that “fake interested” that you can do, but genuine mock interest.

And as we were casually playing with each other’s legs and doing a fantastic job at pretending to like a boring movie, she reached her hand into my pants, and grabbed my cock. I inhaled quickly, but quietly when she did this as it truly seemed out of left field. Still, not even a glance from her as she started runnning her fingers up and down my now rapidly swelling cock. It seemed strange to me that this girl who I half thought would make up some excuse to leave after our drink was now wrist-deep in my boxers. Was she into me? Did she miss her ex and all their fooling around at the movies? I really had no idea.

Her stroking my cock went on for awhile, and I have to say that I was getting really turned on. My cock was rock solid, leaking pre-cum, and aching for more than this slow yet beautiful torture she was putting me through. It’s not like she could take my cock out and start blowing me there in the theater. She was discrete, and I appreciated it.

The movie drew to a close, and she neatly took her hand out of my pants. I didn’t even know what the next step was, or what to say, so I tried to shoot her a cool look that probably ended up looking desprate. When in heat, we rarely look dashing.

“Good movie.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to go back to my place?”

“Okay.”

And just like that we were off. I still had no idea what was going to happen. We randomly jumped from nowhere to in the neighborhood of third base. At that point, I didn’t think anything would surprise me. But I figured I’d try to make it work. There was a cute girl who seemed to like teasing and stroking my cock. The least I could do was see how much.

We got back to my apartment and sat down on the bed. No talking, no expectations. A kiss didn’t seem correct, so I turned to her and grabbed her tits. She went for my cock. Alright then.

I took her shirt off to find a padded black bra, and she kept playing with my cock over my pants. She began to fumble with my belt, and I lifted my hips to help her out. They came off in short order, and I leaned back. The part of my brain that prepares for sex kept telling me a blow job was on its way, but Francesca seemed content with stroking my cock. She wrapped her hands around it and pump me up and down. She grabbed the base of my cock with her right hand, holding me tightly, and then running her fingernails up the underside of my cock. My veins bulged, my cockhead twitched and turned a deep shade of crimson.

She let go, and I was getting so turned on, I didn’t want to wait for her next move. I tackled her on the bed, and quickly took her pants off. Her pussy was fairly damp which was literaly one of the first signs that she was actually enjoying herself, rather than going through the motions. I dove in, excited to tease her the way she was teasing me.

Most guys that are into girls say this, and I will too, but I really like going down on girls. I enjoy giving pleasure, I enjoy how a pussy tastes and smells and feels. I really enjoy being cum upon, and having my face sat upon. I take pride in my skills and try to react to what the girl I’m going down on is expressing

But when Francesca said, “Do you even know what you’re doing?” I was taken aback. Luckily, I was able to give a decent response…

“What do you like?”

“Go faster, and higher up.”

Clearly teasing her was not what she was looking for. Fair enough. So I started sucking on her clit, while massaging her g-spot with two of my fingers.

“Higher”

“Here?”

“Higher”

I was a little confused that she wanted me to suck on the skin directly above her clit, but if that’s what she wanted, then gosh darn it, I was going to suck some good skin. And I did. Or so I hoped.

It went on for awhile, and I had no idea what was going on. Going down on her was not the wild success that I had hoped for, and asking her to return the favor seemed unsavory. So I decided to build up some speed in my sucking, then stop for a moment, and while trying to catch my breath say.

“I really want to fuck you.”

Truth is I didn’t really want to fuck her, I just kind of did. But I did think that fucking might provide some enjoyment for us, certainly more than me going down on her.

“Yeah, okay.”

So I put on a condom, got on top of her, and penetrated her for the first time. At least she seemed to like that. Francesca wrapped her arms around me and I kept fucking her. Her pussy did feel pretty good. She was fairly wet, and was meeting my rhythm. But I also figured this was a good chance to communicate, whereas she seemed almost standoffish.

“You feel really good. I love being inside you.”

“I needed to be fucked.”

“Mmm me too. I love the way I just slide in and out of you. You’re so wet for me baby.”

“My ex is out of town, and I wanted cock.”

“You’re such a little slut. So fucking hot.”

“Keep fucking me.”

And of course I did. I positioned her on top of me. I wanted to grab her ass while she impaled herself on my cock.

“Oh fuck yeah, I needed this.”

“Ooooh me too. I love how you’re so into my cock.”

“I really needed to be fucked.”

“How long had it been since you got laid?”

“Yesterday.”

A girl that keeps repeating how she needed to be fucked despite getting some a day prior? Maybe we had more in common than I thought…

“Who fucked you yesterday?”

“My ex.”

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, he knows exactly what I like.”

“What exactly do you like?”

“To be fucked.”

I can’t really argue with that logic, and pinch her nipple as we start to get sweaty.

“When was the last time you got fucked before yesterday?”

“The day before.”

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. I’ve had sex every day for the past four and a half years.”

Wow.

Wow.

I can’t say I was expecting that. And she really didn’t have a reason to bullshit me. It turned me on. I fucked her harder.

“You love cock don’t you?”

“Yeah”

“You love feeling me all the way inside you.”

“Yeah baby.”

“You love that I’m going to cum deep inside you. You love love cock so much you little fucking slut. You fucking cum whore. Piece of fucking trash. You’re lucky to get my cock.”

“Fuck me, fuck me!”

“Yeah you little fucking bitch. Tramp. Slut.”

I wanted her pussy to burn the next day like she had a rash. I wanted her to feel stretched out and to sit funny when her ex inevitably plows her. I wanted him to wonder why Francesca wasn’t herself. I wanted to write “Jake was here” in invisible ink across her body.

I wanted to stain her memory.