The Beginning

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Nothing Traditional About Us

As the title says, there’s nothing traditional about us. Where to begin? I suppose it all began with me and Brad.

Brad and I met on-line, isn’t that always the case these days? But even in this respect it was a little bit different. I was stretching my wings, as it were, in writing erotica and I was looking for someone to read what I was writing and give me real input and advice. I had just moved into my apartment in New Orleans and I was starting over. A new life in the city I loved.

At first I wasn’t sure how to find anybody to give me their thoughts on my writing, but perseverance paid off and I happened to post a few of my stories and got some good feedback. Brad had some great input for me, gave me the male perspective, and most importantly didn’t judge me for my fantasies.

Over the course of the next six months we would email each other about my stories at first, and then eventually about everything. We chatted from work, texted when we weren’t at work, and basically stayed in nearly constant contact. It was about 3 months into this that Brad started encouraging me to go out and meet men and bring them home to try out some of the ideas I was writing about. I really only tried this once before I just couldn’t do it again. I have trust issues you see, and brining some random guy home to test out a theory on him just didn’t work for me.

Eventually Brad seemed to understand, and he’d listened to me complain about my body, my health and everything else long enough that he knew what he was getting into when he decided to visit me in New Orleans. He got a hotel room in the Quarter to make sure I didn’t feel any pressure to try anything I wasn’t ready for, and then set the date for us to meet, really meet, for the first time.

While we’d exchanged a few pictures in the beginning, I wasn’t really ready to believe that the gorgeous guy in those pictures was actually the guy I was going to meet at Cafe du Monde for cafe au lait and beignets. I expected him to be nearly the opposite. But there I was, sitting in my favorite corner in the back, reading a book on the political development of post-revolutionary countries when he touched my shoulder, very gently. It felt as though a warm glow started at my shoulder and went down my whole body from that soft touch.

“Alice?” his voice was smooth and rich, like a piece of chocolate melting in your mouth on a hot day in the sun.

“Brad?” I am fairly positive it came out as a squeaky whisper. This gorgeous man, who knew all my fantasies, could not be the man I was meeting for coffee. His smile was genuine and charming. Not something that a woman lacking physical confidence is usually prepared to see.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you Alice.” He sat down, his smile still enthralling. It took me a few moments to regain some self respect and stop staring. I fussed with my book, my bag and my posture as I waited to feel even remotely like myself again. He seemed to see all of me at once. “You’re still nervous, maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, yes, I’m nervous, but I’m always going to be nervous so I just take it as read that I’m going to be gittery for awhile.” I didn’t want to tell him that I hadn’t believed him for all those months, and I hadn’t wanted to tell him that I was just in shock that this gorgeous man wanted to be here, with me.

We talked about nothing for a while, he enjoyed his first taste of a real beignet, and I started to relax, half convincing myself that there was no way he was as attracted to me as I was to him, so my being flustered was just silly.

After Cafe du Monde we walked around the Quarter for a while. He wanted to see more of the city and I needed to walk to distract myself from being nervous. We went to a few of the historic bars and he bought me drink after drink, never letting me pay for anything – which also made me more flustered.

Finally he stopped me on the street after we’d left the 3rd bar, took my by the shoulders, made me face him squarely and told me; “I’m an attorney, you know this, I can take care of the drinks while I’m here, don’t worry about it. I’m on vacation, with a beautiful woman showing me the city she loves, and acting as tour guide while I visit all these bars, it’s the least I can do to buy her drinks while we’re out.” Finally understanding that he meant it, I relaxed and stopped fretting as much that he was buying everything.

We walked through the Quarter for about 2 hours before he asked to see the places I usually hang out, the places he’d read about in my texts, chats, and emails.

I lead the way out of the Quarter and into my neighborhoods, the Marigny and the Bywater. We started at my local watering hole, my own version of Cheer’s where all the locals knew my name. I had intended to show him a few other spots, but instead we stayed at my bar. Playing pool with my friends, he was generous and bought beers for my friends and we settled in and I got silly, as is usually the case when I’m having a good time. Teasing my friends, pendik escort playing pool, laughing and finally relaxing. It was almost 10 when the rest of the regulars I hang out with were all making their ways home, saying good-byes, shaking Brads hand and giving me questioning looks and hugs good night. As the bar started to fill up with the weekend crowd, that was a bit louder and younger than the rest of us, I looked at Brad and asked him what he wanted to do next.

“Well, you’ve started yawning, maybe we should get you home. Do you want to take a cab?”

“Let’s walk. I need to get some air before I head home, and it always helps avoid a hang over the morning after.” So I lead the way to the corner store where I picked up a few bottles of water, and a few packs of cigarettes, and then lead the way to my apartment. It takes a good 30 minutes to walk home from the bar, and crossing a few major streets is always fun. At first Brad didn’t seem to mind, but when the streets got darker and emptier he started walking more closely, until he almost had an arm around me, which in the heat and my state of drunkenness would have surely resulted in a fall. Finally it seemed he’d had enough; “Alice, lets find a cab, I don’t like you walking these streets alone at night.”

I just stopped and looked at him, I’m sure with a very funny, drunken perplexed look on my face; “I’m not alone, you’re with me.” This didn’t seem to assuage his concern, so I walked him up to St. Claude where we finally hailed a cab.

In moments we were being let off at my apartment. Brad seemed unsure whether he should get out of the cab or if he should stay and get a ride back to his hotel. Finally I realized what was happening, I hadn’t invited him in. “Oh, sorry. Would you like to come in?” His smile was as charming as ever. This man was going to make my knees give out soon.

“I’d be honored.” Simple and sincere. He had such a great way with words it was almost as enticing as his physique.

As we entered my apartment I was trying to remember if I’d cleaned up, did I have dirty dishes in the sink? Was my bed made? I flipped on the lamp by the door as Brad followed me into my apartment. I looked around, trying to see it from a stranger’s point of view. Technically my apartment was a 2 bedroom, of the shotgun variety, each room leading into the next, no real hallways or privacy. I’d been lucky when I found the place and was able to live alone. Enjoying all the space and spreading out. My front room was fairly bare, just 2 comfortable chairs, a trunk that when covered with pillows served as additional seating, and bookshelves along all the walls, all about 3 1/2 feet high, leaving the tops covered with art work, knick knacks, and unsurprisingly a cold cup of tea on its saucer. I dropped my bag in the chair by the door and turned to make sure everything was locked up tight before looking at Brad again.

From the front room of my apartment you could see my studio/study. Half the room by the window dedicated to paints, brushes, and the random paraphernalia of a letterer and painter. The back wall of the room was given over to a sewing station that was more often covered by a drop cloth than used, with a few duct tape dress forms in the corner. The opposite wall was given over to my writing and homework desk. An L-shaped number with a computer tucked in the corner and books and paper scattered over the surface, spilling onto the floor in spots where I’d been working through one pile on my way to the next.

Beyond these rooms was a small hallway-like opening that lead into my bedroom on the other side of the far wall, you could see the curtain wall bunched up, as the curtain was open to let the fall air stream through the apartment. Father back was the archway to the bathroom and kitchen at the end of my apartment. As was usually the case when the A/C and the heater are both off, the curtain there was tied back to allow more air to flow through the apartment.

I took all of this in, knowing that this was home, my comfortable haven away from everyone else. My dog Zadist (tragically named after a character from a book I’d read) was softly barking in the back. He liked to stay in the laundry room when I was out, and he was coming down the hall to make sure it was me coming in, and sniffing out the scent of someone not me. Before he could barrel down the hallway I pushed Brad back, or attempted to, and stood before him so Z wouldn’t jump on him. Z is a very faithful pit bull who came from an abusive home, and so he wasn’t all that great around strangers at first. He was harmless to everyone he knew, but not to people he didn’t. Z saw me step in front of Brad and sort of skidded to a halt, and by skidded I mean skidded right into my knees. Z has got one hard head!

As I teetered drunkenly from the collision, Brad reached forward to steady me, and Z looked up at me in shock and a sort of ‘oh God, she’s gonna fall over, what have I done’ sort of expression on his face.

I sort of fell/squatted down in front of Z and opened my arms and he was in them in an maltepe escort instant. “Brad, meet Z” I said over my shoulder, giving Z love and assurance that all was well. Brad started to take a step forward when I stopped him. Not taking my eyes of Z. “Wait, give him a moment, he’ll be suspicious if you try to move before I’ve introduced you.” Rubbing behind his ears and getting wet kisses I reached behind me for Brads hand, “Z, baby, this is Brad. He’s okay.” Brad placed his hand in mine so I could hold it out for Z to sniff.

Z did sniff Brads hand, only once, before he backed up to look at Brad, and then over to his bed by the heater where he could watch us. Brad still holding my hand, helped me up to my feet.

“Well that wasn’t so bad.” Was all he said, starting to look around and take in my apartment.

“Oh, don’t let looks deceive you, he’s keeping an eye on us, one wrong move and he’ll be much less calm. He’s never attacked anybody, but I don’t often bring over strangers, so we’ll see how this goes. Oh, and shoes off by the door please. I try to keep as much gunk off the floor as possible.” I was already sliding my own shoes off and into the neat row of shoes I kept by the door.

I’m not the greatest housekeeper in the world, but I liked to keep things in a usual place, and for me that meant shoes by the door, bike behind the door, and purse somewhere in the big chair by the door, this way I always knew where to find things when I needed them before leaving.

“Well, this is it. My humble abode. I hope it doesn’t smell too bad, I was painting this morning and I had the window cracked, but I’m never really sure if the smell of turpentine is too strong for others.”

Brad was just looking around, as if trying to fit the different parts of my house into our various conversations. “So this is where you create your stories. I wonder if you’ve imagined half the things I have from your stories.”

I blushed to my ears! My stories. I had in fact imagined many of them taking place in this very room, my studio was another matter altogether. I wasn’t quite sure I could imagine any of the stories I’d written taking place in the room where I painted, lettered, and played violin when I was pensive or stuck in my writing or research.

“Well, I’m sure I have, but I’m not sure you’ve imagined them in quite the same way.” Looking around, I wasn’t quite ready to face that yet. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got tea, juice, and water of course.” We’d talked many times about my various drinking habits, and my dislike for regular water. I had a fridge full of fruit that eventually found it’s way into water each day.

This seemed to bring him back to the present, as he blinked for a moment, then smiled and said, “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

So I lead the way to the kitchen in the back, pointing out the rest room on the way.

For all that my living room and study were sort of cluttered, my kitchen was the opposite. I had a vintage kitchen table with four mismatched vinyl covered chairs, and various sized boxed where mounted around the kitchen for storage of spices, teas, pots and pans, and the various instruments of cooking. I took two glasses from the built-in cabinets where all the dishes were stored, walked over to the fridge and poured us each a glass of strawberry basil water. Then I turned around and was surprised that Brad was standing in the door way watching me. “This room seems the most like you.”

I smiled, it was true. For all my reading, research, writing, studying, and art, this was the room that always made me feel most at east. I loved cooking, and often had friends over a few days a week to cook for them. I was a strange one, I liked cooking more than I liked eating, and my friends were happy enough to come over and try the new recipes I’d try out. I shrugged. “What can I say, kitchens always make me feel more relaxed. Good food, good friends, good memories.” Unsure what to do next I handed him one glass and then sat down at the table.

He smiled as he joined me, “I’ve been trying some of your water mixes.” He took a sip and smiled, “You don’t imagine these two making a good combination, but it’s really quite good, almost soothing.”

I smiled. That’s what I enjoyed about our conversations. We’d started talking about my fantasies, and eventually ended up talking about everything.

After we sat and drank in silence for a few minutes I shook my head, smiled at him, and finally admitted, “I don’t know what we’re doing now. You’ve read all the things that roam around in my head, and yet I have no idea what you’re thinking right now.”

He smiled too, “Ditto.” was all he said.

After a few more moments of just staring at each other I got up, I needed to do something, sitting and doing nothing was not my usual state. We’d discussed in some of our emails, how I am not a very physically confident woman. I’m never sure enough to make the first move and I wasn’t sure what he was expecting, or even desiring, and that made me nervous. Z had followed us into the kitchen kartal escort and made his way to his usual spot in the door way to the laundry room. He was watching us, making sure everything was okay.

As I stood up and made to walk past Brad, he reached out to hold my arm, he gently turned me to face him and then pulled me into his lap. I wasn’t prepared, I was nervous, and it was as if my mind had simply blanked.

Brad reached up and took my face gently, but firmly, between his hands and drew my mouth to his and kissed me. My mind stopped, everything stopped, as I simply closed my eyes and let him lead the way. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, I tasted his groan as he deepened our kiss. Well I guess I wasn’t clueless anymore. We kissed like old lovers, slowly, passionately, it was the perfect kiss. Then his arms were around me, and he was pulling me tighter to his chest, my arms wound themselves around his neck pulling him closer as well. Then I felt his hand on my knee, reaching below my skirt and up to my hip, then around and up my back beneath my dress.

I pulled back, ever so slightly and he let me go, questions floating in his eyes as he looked at me, waiting for me to stop him, or to give him permission to keep going. I ran my fingers through his hair again, and smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I think there’s a better place to continue this conversation.” His smile was instant and huge, I’d given him permission to go further.

I smiled back as I stood up, taking his hand and my glass of water I lead us back to my bed room. Thankfully I had made the bed, but as it wasn’t cold enough to need blankets, it was just a sheet on the bed and pillows scattered about. I backed up to the bed and he followed. We set our water down on the night stand and then he leaned down and was kissing me again, this time more forcefully, more passionately, simply more.

My breath caught and my mind shut off. Brad reached down to my shoulders and slipped my dress down, I was only wearing a bra and boxer briefs beneath. He knew how nervous I can be, so he didn’t waste time, he didn’t let me think about it, before I could react, his shirt was on the floor next to my dress, his jeans were already on the way down and he was blissfully naked beneath them. He didn’t let me think, didn’t let me get nervous and introverted, as was my tendency, he simply reached for my face again and started kissing me. I felt his hands everywhere, then my bra was gone, my panties were gone, I was lying back on my bed and he was between my legs, kissing me, his hands everywhere, my sides gently, my hips a bit more forcefully, and then I felt the head of his cock brushing against my core. I moaned, I couldn’t help it, he felt like magic, like perfection. He rubbed once, twice, I was dripping and so ready for him, I reached up to pull him to me, and then I felt him nudge his way in. He was so hot it felt like a coal had been dropped, and then I felt how thick he was, stretching as he pushed in. My hips lifted to make room, this is what I needed, this is what I wanted. As he pushed himself in I realized how long he was as well. I was in heaven. He filled me, completely, and yet I knew I hadn’t taken all of him yet.

Slowly he started to push, and pull, rocking into me. I was lost, I could only feel him. My eyes closed, my arms and legs pulling him in, deeper, and deeper. My toes curled as I rubbed my leg against his, as I arched my back to take him even deeper. He reached up to my head board for leverage and then really started to thrust. I moaned and I bowed as I came for the first time. I lost track of everything but feeling him, in me, thrusting, his hand on my hip, holding on to his arm to thrust myself up to meet his advance.

I have no idea how long we kept at it, I lost track after the third orgasm. I hadn’t felt this way in years. And then I felt it, that intense stiffening, the smaller, harder thrusts, “Yes, yes, oh god YES!” and then I felt like I’d be lifted up off the bed and into my pillows as he thrust one last, hard, time and then I felt my favorite sensation in the world. I felt him come and fill me up, the pulsing shot of each jet sending me into one last, massive orgasm.

I must have passed out for a moment, so spent I could barely move, I couldn’t even think. And then I felt a warm wash cloth between my legs, I came back to reality with a blush covering me from head to toe. No one had ever done this for me before. I wasn’t prepared to feel this intimate already. I reached down to take the wash cloth from him, “Oh god, I can do that.”

Brad simply brushed my hand away, leaned over and softly kissed my lips, then my eye lids, then my forehead. “It’s my pleasure. You are amazing.” I blushed even brighter, and turned my head into my pillow.

I felt him get up off the bed, and heard him walk into the bathroom, the faucet running, and then his soft steps as he came back around the corner to my bed. He gently pulled the sheet down from beneath me, walked around to the other side of the bed, and got in behind me. He pulled the sheet up around us, reached around beneath the pillows for the body pillow he knew I had stashed back there, and then as if it was the most natural thing in the world he brought it around in front of me, knowing I needed it to sleep well.

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