The Man



Summer 2014.

Earlier that year, I left the loveless relationship I’d been in for 10 years and moved on.  I loved the single life.  I enjoyed not having to “answer” to anyone about my whereabouts.  I liked having a bowl of cereal for dinner.  I liked my freedom, but I still craved connection.  I wanted a casual partnership, nothing too serious.  I wanted hot, unbelievable sex, when I wanted it.  So I joined a couple of online dating sites and suddenly found my dance card full.  It was quite a ride.

There was the ultra religious man who should have never ventured off of Christian Mingle to the other racier dating sites.  I was too fast for his blood, but we had a good time.  There was a psychiatrist with the social skills of an awkward tween.  There was a retired philosophy professor, old enough to be my grandfather, that made me cum more than anyone had in months.  There were a host of others.  Some of them noteworthy..many of them not.

And then there was Viktor.

He was fifteen years my junior.  Very tall.  Very handsome.  And very worldly despite his age.  He was of Serbian descent.  His family moved to the US prior to the turmoil of the nineties.  He was raised here, but had this European swagger.  He carried himself in a way that demanded respect and attention, yet he was kind and considerate.  He could blend in with a well-traveled CEO or dish with a seven year old about Star Wars.  His range was impressive.  I was fascinated with him.  He had more depth than the average fish in the sea.  He was different.

After talking for a couple of days, I invited him over.  I had a child-free weekend and I was curious to meet him in person.  Being the gentleman he was, he brought over a bottle of chilled Etienne Sauzet Chardonnay that was exquisite.  A man who brings that kind of wine on the inaugural meeting had some serious game and I found myself a bit nervous.  I noticed his impressive watch, as he opened the bottle in my kitchen.  To make small talk, I asked him about it.

“That’s a lovely watch you’re wearing.  I’ve not seen that style before.”  I nervously muttered.

He grinned as he poured me a glass.  “It’s not very common, especially around here.  It’s an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Offshore.  I just got it as a gift to myself for getting into Harvard Business School.”

At this point, I thought…okay.  Here comes the bullshit.  He’s a con artist.  I mean who rattles off a five word brand for a wristwatch.  And who in the hell casually comments about getting into Harvard Business School.

But this was no bullshit. He was the real deal.

As we made our way to my leather sofa, he told me about his educational quest for an Ivy League graduate degree.  He had been accepted at several of the major business schools in the country (Dartmouth, Columbia, Yale…and yes, Harvard) but couldn’t decide where he wanted to go.  I’ll be crude, but the thought of all that made me wet.  Such intelligence.  Such drive and ambition.  He had old world class and I could barely wait to get this guy in bed. He was so refined.  So successful, that I knew he would know how to fuck me silly.

But that night, we simply talked.  We shared stories, experiences and a couple of bottles of wine (the bottles I had on hand were far less than impressive compared to what he brought) and we parted ways in the wee hours of the morning….without me even parting my legs.  DAMMIT.

I later realized that he was testing me.  He was asserting control.  He was so disciplined that he did not allow our evening to go beyond a hot passionate kiss.  He had me where he wanted me and that was…me wanting him badly.  I could barely plan my Fourth of July celebration, I was so distracted with this enigma of a man.  Again…a man fifteen years younger than me.

Early in the afternoon of July 4th, we began exchanging sexual banter via text.  He was always classy, but had a way of writing that only made me want to fuck him more.  I was a dripping mess by the time the evening rolled in.  He sent a text around 10:30 pm.

“What are your wearing?”

I was clever in my response…”Heels and a smile. You should come see for yourself.”

His response…”Oh I plan to. I will arrive in 30 minutes.  I expect to find you in nothing but heels.  And I will ensure you keep that smile.”

My switch was turned on.  I couldn’t wait for him to get there.  But was I really brazen enough to answer the door in nothing but heels?  I toiled over it for about 15 minutes when I realized that I was running out of time.  So I found a lovely, asset-flattering, low cut black dress, donned my highest “fuck me” stilettos and carefully applied my slut red lipstick (Ladies, you know the color…not berry red, not wear-to-the-office red….SLUT red.  There is a difference.)

He arrived precisely 30 minutes from the time of our last text.  I peered out the window as he drove up in his shiny new BMW.  I hadn’t noticed it from before, but even the car was sexy.  He swaggered out of the front seat and tapped on the door.  My God he looked amazing.  Crisply pressed shirt.  Cuffed sleeves.  Khakis that displayed his taut ass.

I opened it slowly to add to the anticipation.  He looked so hot.  His thick dark hair was slightly disheveled, but he was immaculate.  He smelled divine.  Our eyes met as he walked in and closed it behind him, taking me in his arms, kissing me right there…pinning me to my front door.

“I thought I said, heels only.” he growled between his teeth.  “But this dress suits you”  He took my hand and led me to the couch.  Where he proceeded to open the champagne he brought.  He filled our glasses as he proposed a toast.

“To fireworks.”  And he grinned his mischievous smile.

“To fireworks.” I nodded.  And I drank the entire glass, as if it were a ‘last call’ shot back in my college days.

He pulled me over onto his lap.  I straddled him on the couch  He kissed me passionately, but with intention.  Everything he did was with purpose.  He knew just how to drive a woman mad with his lips.  He masterfully removed my bra, without taking off my dress.  He caressed my full breasts through the dress and then artfully pulled them out of my low-cut neckline.  I unbuttoned his shirt.  He embraced me and lifted my dress up as he grabbed my bare ass.  (I decided not to wear panties).  He squeezed my ass and his fingers found their way to my sweet spot.  I felt like I’d cum immediately.  I was so turned on my him.

He plunged his fingers deep into my sex, demanding an orgasm.  There was no turning back.  I came furiously for him as he watched the results of his handiwork.  I slid down from his lap and took his hard cock in my mouth.  I took him deep.  I loved sucking him, but I longed to feel him inside me.

Once again he took me by the hand and led me to a large armless accent chair. He sat down and motioned for me to ride his ample cock.  I began to straddle him when he turned me around to face away from him.  I positioned myself on him as he found my dripping wet hole.  He slid his hard shaft inside my wetness and pulled my hips down firmly.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“It feels so fucking good.  I want more.” My God….I sounded so needy.

And without words or hesitation, he guided my rhythm.  He fucked me hard.  I came several times before I felt him become more rigid as he poured his seed inside me.  I loved how it felt as he filled me with his hot load.

We both sat there speechless for a bit, when he reached over and poured us some more champagne.  We finally found our voices as we reflected on our amazing scene.  We talked for a long time.  And while we were siting on the floor, he summoned me to him.  I could tell he was ready to fuck again.  He bent me down, face first to the floor as he took me again.  And again.

That was almost two years ago, and I can still remember the touch of his hand…the smell of his skin.  How he felt inside me. Viktor connects with me on a level that few have, or ever will.  We just get each other.  Even though we haven’t been together for quite a while, we stay in close touch.  There is a place that exists between us where we can be our real and flawed selves (although he has no flaws…in my eyes, he is perfect).  We have such depth together.  I get him.  He gets me.  And we are the best of friends…from  a distance.  He lives two states away and that distance is healthy.  I am in a relationship where I am very happy.  Viktor is unattached and adventurous and still has his wild oats to sow…working as a VP for a European bank, showing up in his tailored Anderson-Sheppard suits everyday.  He is living the dream.  I do hope he finds a woman worthy of him.

As for me, I have the memories of our time together that summer.  So I will close this jaunt down memory lane with the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me…courtesy of Viktor.


That is some serious swagger.  I even published his words on Pinterest…





  1. i love reading your blogs, they make me want to have hot and better sex! I’m leaning a lot from your blogs and i love your writing style and the imagines they create for me thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Viktor sounds divine! I, along with everyone else, love to read your stories. I don’t know if I’d read them at work like the commenter above though! Lol

    Liked by 1 person

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