she asked, “how does he do that?”

 

He said, “let’s play,” so I will.

I have known Jamie for four months and in that time he has possibly made me come more times than I have in the previous four years. This is significant because I have a wild and varied sexual history, a list of lovers a mile long, and an insatiable appetite for the carnal that hasn’t always led me to the best decisions but usually led me at least to orgasm. I have slept with gorgeous men (and women) and normal guys, guys with a bent for both the dominant and the submissive. I have been paid for sex and given it away freely. I have had one night stands and longer no-strings relationships. I have had one long affair and one long marriage.

Not one of those partners has been able to do to me what he has done to me, every time we meet, for four months. The first time we met was expected yet unexpected. We had been flirting incessantly via email for three days, telling each other what we would do to one another when we met in person. I finally caved on the fourth day and took a chance, driving through town late at night to meet him. “I will kick you out at midnight,” he said, knowing we both had work in the morning.

I wasn’t exactly dressed or ready for such a momentous occasion, having spent the day at a festival in the hot Texas sun, but Jamie didn’t care. When his lips met my skin he exclaimed that he loved my salt. We kissed for what felt like an hour on his couch, his hands roaming over my curves, reading the Braille of my desire. I was the first – and only one – to reach orgasm as we licked and sucked each other simultaneously, tangling his sheets in dim lamp light. And then he made me come again, and again, with no regard for himself. He just wanted to keep riding the wave of my unending – and for the first time in my life, multiple – climaxes. I don’t think we fucked that evening – that is to say, I don’t think his cock made it inside of me. I left around 2 AM. So much for our curfew.

The next evening we met again and finally consummated days of teasing, every thrust and moan more intense than the one before. I lost myself in his smell and touch. He made me high with his hands and mouth and cock. I finally made him come, feeling him get harder than he had been the night before, thrilling to the sound of his soft voice honed to an ecstatic edge.

The day after that I came over and as we were undressing, hands everywhere, Jamie breathlessly said, “Wait, let me grab a condom,” and I said “Fuck that, I need you now.” Probably a bad idea, but neither of us cared. Besides, his perfect cock doesn’t deserve such crude covering. I couldn’t believe he could feel even better, but as he pressed himself close to me, arms wrapped around my back, lips on my neck, breathing hard as he came inside of me, I knew – this man is the best lover I have ever had.

But how? Why? After I left his apartment I met some friends at a show downtown but couldn’t focus. Every time I shifted I could feel him still inside of me. My last no strings sex friend never came inside of me, so this was a new and fun twist for me. But that isn’t the reason he’s the best lover I have ever had.

The next time I saw him, he bent me over the couch within fifteen minutes of my arrival, pulled my panties down and entered me with my dress hiked over my hips. His hands expertly freed my breasts from my bra while it was still hooked and he cupped them while driving into me, frantic but somehow still in control. Eventually we had to stop and I took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. I straddled him and rode his perfection until I shivered and cried out, after which he whispered “my turn” into my ear, pushed me onto all fours, and slid into me again, coming five forceful strokes later.

As hot as these encounters were, they weren’t exactly unique to me – except for the fact of him, his hands, his voice, his amazing body and stamina (especially for an “old guy,” as Jamie likes to refer to himself.)

So why, then, is he the best lover I have ever had? About a month ago I began asking him outright, first during foreplay with his mouth on my mons, then more often breathlessly afterward, when we both reclined on twisted linens. “How do you do that?” I ask, ruffling his thick hair, breathing in his warm skin scent.

“I don’t know,” he always replies. “I just do. Maybe it’s you.”

In the time that has passed I have come to some conclusions. Jamie listens, but not to words. He moves his hands and my body replies. My hips rise and tell him everything he needs to know. His sense of rhythm is impeccable, his movements timed and restrained just enough to keep me on the tightrope until I just can’t balance anymore. He also watches – he knows when my climax is close just by the crimson flush of my chest.

He also isn’t afraid of anything, as far as I can tell. As many women are, I am self-conscious during my period. Jamie has dismissed every protest, claiming that there is no amount of mess that is going to keep him from fucking me, making him celibate for days on end. He likes to be in control, but as he has said, more like a personal trainer than a scary beast. That doesn’t stop him from pinning my arms to the bed, causing me to writhe helplessly under him, begging him to please stop, I can’t take anymore – he knows better. I have given him blanket permission to do whatever he wants to do because I know that he knows my pleasure better than I do – no small feat for a man fucking a woman who used to do this for a living. Jamie manages to tease more ecstasy from me than I have ever experienced, without safe words or pretention. He doesn’t worry about me resenting him for doing something I won’t like, because as far as I can tell there isn’t anything I won’t like. I have given him blanket permission to do whatever he wants to me and he has gifted me the same.

I feel that on our most recent encounter my question – how does he do that? – was finally answered to my satisfaction.

We began by losing ourselves in wet intimate kisses, sliding our bodies against one another until I was aching wet and he was stiff and ready. I lifted my hips to him and he entered me, my legs around his waist, facing each other in an almost cross-legged position. I supported myself on my arms and rocked into him. We moved in tandem, facing one another, his hands roaming all over my flesh as I bore my body onto him, finally pushing him onto his back to ride him when the sensation became too much. Jamie held my waist as I ground myself into him so he could better press into me. Our bodies met in the middle of every stroke as I danced on the edge of orgasm for what seemed like eternity. I sat up straight and he took the opportunity to tease my breasts and back with his practiced touch. I finally had enough and bent to kiss him, free to fuck him fully. Every upward motion was met by him and every downward hip-driven plunge caused me to gasp and lose rational thought. We – at least in that moment – were the only two beings in the world, burning brightly, glowing with all the pleasure in the universe. I felt him grow even harder and I knew –

“You’re going to make me come,” he gasped, his breath perfuming my hair, my wetness perfuming the air. “I won’t be able to stop it.”

“Come for me,” I exclaimed, placing my hands against his chest and anchoring myself for what I knew was coming. “I want to feel you.” His hands went to the small of my back and pushed me down onto his cock and he moaned powerfully. His whole body convulsed and I felt his warmth spill into me – no, not spill, shoot, violently. I couldn’t hold myself at bay any longer. I curled my hands into fists on his chest, feeling his hair under my fingers. My knees hugged his hips tightly and I could feel the muscles of my cunt roll over him, wave after wave as I finally crested, sitting fully upright as the last vestiges of his orgasm pushed me over the edge. It was so intense I couldn’t even find the voice to tell him I was coming. I could only shiver and accept his gift.

We fucked twice more that night, both as good as the first, but that first session was, without any argument, the most fulfilling sex I had ever had to that point in my life. And I know we will be able to repeat that, again and again.

How does he do that?

Jamie allows every moment that happens to be as full as it can possibly be. He doesn’t expect anything, so every experience is the best expression of its possibility. He doesn’t follow a script or any rules. All he wants is to be allowed to feel these moments and he is grateful for them. And I respond in kind, allowing him to lead me down the sun-drenched paths of the most profound pleasure that exists.

And that’s the answer, how he does “that,” make me the most ecstatic woman in the world, time and time again.