Posted by on Feb 3, 2011 in Life and Style | 0 comments

no-strings

The night before I left for Vegas I watched Up in the Air, where the climax of the movie is centered around this unattached, unemotional man realizing he’s fallen in love with a women he wants to make a home with, only to find out she already has a home, with a different man, and family. I found myself relating to the woman; understanding the need for a family yet also the need to get carried away by a moment, a different circumstance, a different man, woman, threesome… Did ‘til death do us part have to mean to never flirt with spontaneous attraction again? Of course your husband is supposed to be enough, supposed to complete you, so that you don’t ever crave getting carried away by a spontaneous attraction, but I’ve read enough about the biology of lust and love to know it’s not always so. At least I don’t think it’s that way for me.

I got to Vegas, checked into my suite, flipped the TV on, and layed down. A Sex and the City episode was on; the one where Carrie is dating Aiden and ends up fucking Big. It’s hard for one man to satisfy everything we need. Although I wondered whether somehow it was more alright for a single woman in a relationship to have multiple lovers than a married woman. And then my mind wandered to another time I had taken a trip to Vegas by myself.

It was as if I was on a mission to get laid. I had rotated some big curls into my hair, put on some soft makeup, and a backless dress to boot. I walked around the casino, looking for a strategic place to sit, and found myself at the lounge in the Sports Book. I ordered a dirty martini and set my sights on a preppy kid in thick black rimmed glasses, a navy sport coat and brown corduroys. I sauntered over to where he was blowing cigarette smoke, and asked if he had one to spare.

He was 23, with a sweet accent from North Carolina, and had just lost $1,000 to craps. I found out he had a thing for Iggy Pop, Mark Twain, and menthol cigarettes. He bought us two more rounds and was impressed that I was working on a manuscript. And when he said “you have the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen” I didn’t give a shit whether it was sincere or a bad pick-up line; we broke into a passionate kiss. Physical sparks, emotional explosions, my pussy got instantly wet as his big hands slid up my bare back, and I slid closer in.

“Chips, chocolate, condoms?” I suggested when we walked past the gift shop. He grabbed a beer and some Trojans and we started walking towards the elevators.

“I’m staying in a room with my dad.” He finally confessed.

“I’m not,” I said pulling him inside before the elevator closed shut.

We walked in my room and continued what we had started at the bar. Licking, touching, sucking, until he picked me up and carried me to the king-sized bed. My dress came off, then all his attire, as I moved down his firm 6’2″ frame, swirled my tongue around his cock, then made my way back up, as he made his way down. I could tell he hadn’t mastered orally pleasuring a women yet, but I was hot in the moment so it didn’t matter much; I wasn’t in the mood to give out instructions, I was in the mood for him to put that condom on, which he finally did.

I sat up on him, his dick felt good, like 23-year-old dick should. I moved with intensity, we rolled around some more on the bed, and when he grinded his dick up against my clit and g-spot, I knew he’d make a great lover one day.

The Sex and the City episode is nearly over, and I feel completely flushed. My hand moves down, I unzip my jeans, start moving two fingers around where it matters most…god, it’s been ages since I masturbated without a vibrator, but it feels good; reminding myself of the woman I am, no strings or guilt attached.