Our First Naked Cuddle Session

Our First Naked Cuddle Session

There will be no penetration.

Image for postPhoto by Alexander Krivitskiy from Pexels

We have been seeing one another for months. Things are going very well. We agree that taking things slow is a good idea. We want to lay a foundation of connection before becoming sexual.

We usually meet for breakfast and talk for hours about all the things. But today will be different.

Yes, we are meeting in a hotel room. Yes, we are going to be naked, together. But no, we do not plan to have sex.

He?s good-looking and smart. Great with his hands. He builds things.

The perfect gentleman.

He opens doors and pulls out chairs. And he has the most amazing eyes. Dreamy and celestial. Looking at him is like gazing into eternity.

I?m still not going to let him penetrate me.

I am not holding out or weaponizing my pussy. Not this time. I want to sleep with him, I really do.

I have squirted in my dreams thinking about this man. So I positively-absolutely want to fuck him.

But not today. Today is about being close.

Today is about intimacy.

I asked for a naked cuddle session.

?I would like to propose that we spend some time cuddling? naked. Maybe an everything-but-sex experience??

And he said yes.

I want to wrap my body around his body. With no things between us. No distractions. Just my heart pressed against his.

Mostly I want to prevent myself from hiding. It?s easy to hide when I?m fully clothed. I can rely on the strength of my personality. Shielding my tender bits and being the person everyone thinks I am.

But there is nowhere to hide when I?m naked.

Skin-to-skin.

Heart-to-heart.

Nothing but space and opportunity.

This is me taking away my safety net. Diving heart first into vulnerability with someone that I want to know and who I want to know me.

The real me.

I am already naked when he arrives.

Wearing nothing but my signature scent and a smile.

?Well good morning,? he said while wrapping his arms snuggly around my bare body.

His hands do not roam. He cops no feel. He simply holds me.

I tense up, but I don?t pull away.

?You feel good,? I reply.

?But I am clearly overdressed,? he chuckled.

I climb into the bed while he undresses.

He?s making small talk, but I?m not listening. I am too busy having a private conversation in my head.

He wears boxer briefs, thank goddess. I am not a fan of tidy whities. And it would have been a complete turnoff if he was wearing a bikini or some shit.

Where did that come from?

He is way too type A to wear bikinis!

I rarely get nervous. But my nerves are a bit on edge right now. I can tell because I am dissecting underwear options in my mind.

Bring it back girl.

He climbs into bed and gets super close.

I can feel his breath on my face. He moves his hand around my waist and draws me in. Angling his head slightly to the left, placing his lips upon mine.

I welcome his tongue into my mouth.

Mmmmmm?.

I breathe his scent and my body begins to relax. As his soft prickly beard gently massages the side of my face.

?That was nice,? he said.

And it was.

?I like kissing you,? I smirk. ?But the first time we kissed, I did not like the taste of your saliva.?

?Really??

Our first kiss happened outside of what would become our favorite cafe.

It was raining and he had just said something that annoyed me.

At the time, I wasn?t sure if it was the sausage he?d eaten or my annoyance that caused the bad taste in my mouth.

It left me feeling uncertain.

I am really glad that I didn?t rush to judgment. Every kiss since then has been amazing.

Turns out it was mostly the sausage.

He kisses me again.

Slow and deep.

Time stops.

I can feel his pulse in my breasts.

My skin is flush and my temperature is rising.

Beads of sweat cause the tiny hairs on my forehead to rise.

This is arousal.

He scissors his legs between mine.

Pulling me even closer.

The hairs on his chest are tickling my now erect nipples.

His fingers are inching toward my butt.

The warmth of his hand on my bare skin tingles.

Tension liberates my muscles as our breath syncs.

Our tongues withdraw and retreat to our respective mouths.

My eyes open to meet his smile.

?You?re beautiful,? he says.

We are an unlikely match.

Our backgrounds are dissimilar.

He?s from the east coast, I?m from the west. I?m black, he?s white. He?s a Baby Boomer, while I am Gen X?er.

Our cultural differences have been challenging.

In the time that we have known one another, we have had no less than ten hard conversations. Most have revolved around race. All have been loving and respectful.

This relationship is teaching me a different kind of patience. It has also evolved my definition of intimacy.

We connect through our differences.

Rather than avoiding challenges, we lean in.

He never meets my criticism with defense. And I don?t meet his ignorance with aggression.

We learn from one another. We listen for understanding. We hold no opinions. We pass no judgment.

Each of us is committed to showing up.

So far, so good.

I slip my arm between our bodies, grasping his penis in my hand.

He?s already semi-erect.

I begin to massage and stroke him in a steady rhythm, as his breath quickens. I grip slightly, to add pressure.

His eyes flutter.

Somehow his fingers have made their way to my vulva. He slinks his index finger between my lips and dips into my honey. Paying special attention to my clitoris. Swirling around the head before sinking into my vagina.

I gasp.

This is pleasure.

His lips are on my neck.

That?s my spot.

His fingers are going deeper and faster now.

My head feels light.

I am stroking his penis from base to crown. Up and down. Tightly loose.

?I?m going to cum,? I pant.

?Good, I want you to,? he whispers.

And I do.

The foreplay began long before he entered the hotel room.

Sitting on a bluff overlooking the pacific ocean, a little more than a week ago, we went through the Yes/No/Maybe list.

We talked about the kind of sex we enjoy. The kinks we?d explored with past partners. Exchanged views and ideas about the things we?d be open to trying together. Reviewed our hard no?s.

I shared my rape stories. He listened and offered comfort.

We discussed and declared our boundaries. Owned our shadowy bits. And pledged to work on the barriers that might impede intimacy.

This is communication.

Now it?s his turn.

I nudge his shoulder until he is stretched prone. His penis is glistening. Erection beckoning my mouth to envelop him.

I open my mouth and receive his mushroom, twirling my tongue around the rim. Paying close attention to the frenulum.

He inhales deeply.

?I see you like that,? I say.

He is too enthralled to respond.

Relaxing my tongue and the back of my throat, I take his entire length into my mouth. Slow repetitions. Up and down, spiraling my tongue around his head before drawing him in again.

My right-hand corkscrews around his shaft in time with the pulse of my mouth.

He is lost to pleasure now. Hearing nothing, feeling everything.

His body writhes and twitches. While his hand quivers between the blades of my shoulders.

He is close.

I maintain a steady cadence. Hallowing my jaw, running my tongue up the shaft, then circling the head. Over and over again.

His cock begins to undulate as my throat opens to receive his semen.

I swallow.

?Ahhhh?? he groans.

The stiffness in his body slowly begins to subside. His skin is tinted rose and peppered with sweat.

He shivers as I run my tongue softly around the head of his now flaccid penis.

This is satisfaction.

He pulls me into an embrace.

I curl into his body.

?Does this count as sex?? he asks.

I smile, ?yes.?

He?s sated.

I am pleased.

This is intimacy.

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