2. The One That Defined Passionate

Less than three weeks after breaking up with One, I was out buying furniture to replace what I’d left behind at the house that he we had shared together. Walking into a secondhand store on the main street I strode past the white goods towards the chests of drawers and bedside tables. I had been in the store for a few minutes, listening to two male voices murmuring behind the counter at the back of the store, when I saw something that I liked - a light coloured timber chest of drawers with two matching bedside tables. I lingered in front of them, waiting for an assistant. I didn't have to wait long.

"Hey there, how's it going? Can I help you?" A tall, solid guy maybe a few years older than me sidled up to me with a wide, friendly smile that lit up his face. He had tatts, short dark spikey hair and a 'rocker' look about him that appealed to me. As well as his height and build. I couldn't tell during our conversation whether he was just being very friendly or flirting with me, although I did have my suspicions when he asked me why I was moving and who I was moving in with.

After buying the goodies I'd spotted, I had to walk down the road to do some other chores, so he promised to load it in my car for me and have it all set for me when I got back. We chatted whilst he carted the furniture out to my car.

"So do you have anyone to help you move this stuff in?" He asked casually, leaning against the bedside as he set it down next to the boot of my car.

"Um, no it's pretty light so I'll manage on my own and just do it bit by bit. It’ll be a good workout!" I smiled. Two smiled back at me, looking me up and down for an inappropriate period of time before looking me back in the eye and replying not-so-subtly "doesn't look like you really need it."

I laughed nervously, feeling a very obvious blush spread across my pale cheeks while he continued to stare at me with a very cocky smirk on his face. I mumbled something self-deprecating about having weak chicken wings for arms before asking if I could leave my car there while I ran some quick chores. He promised to keep an eye on it, still smirking as I made my escape and scuttled – very unsexily - down the road.

It wasn't until three days later that I noticed the business card underneath my windscreen wiper with a message scrawled in tiny little letters on the back that left me grinning for days.

"This probably isn't very professional of me, but as soon as you walked into the store, I was watching you and told my workmate that I had to go over there to talk to you. And I'm glad I did, it was great meeting you. If you’d like to go out for a drink sometime gimme a call (the number on the front, yeah that's mine). Or, let me know if you need someone to help you move your furniture ;)"

I waited a few days before replying via email - old-school, huh? - in what I thought was a cool, detached way. Later that week, we met for a drink (or five) and he spent the night at mine, making out until my face was an angry tingling shade of red from his stubble. I could not get enough of his seriously pouty lips, but every time his hands made their way to my pants, my groans were replaced by sounds of disapproval. I so wanted to have sex with him, but didn’t want to come across as a slut.

The next day, we had sex in the harsh light of morning. Two woke me up with a hard-on pressed up against my butt and a soft pair of lips sucking at my neck. I did my best not to react for a while, taking my time to wake up so I would lose my 'sleepy eyes.’ When his hand reached into my bra and he started to make circles against my hardening nipple, I couldn't disguise my heavy breathing. I could feel myself getting wet. A steady throb began between my legs, my hips started moving in circles, pressing up against the inviting hardness at my backside.

I turned my head to the side, offering my mouth for a hot, wet kiss and didn't protest this time when his hand moved from my breast to my pussy. He let out what could only be described as a growl, low and guttural in his throat, before rolling me onto my back and tugging at my bra so that he could suck at my breasts. Two continued to rub my pussy, stroking delicious circles against my clit before dipping a finger in, then adding another and another, filling me up; a large unfamiliar calloused hand only made it more exciting.

He reached to the ground, fumbling around to find his jeans before pulling a condom out of the pocket. I whipped off what was left of my clothing while he fitted it. His penis was slightly longer and thicker than my exes - the only tangible comparison that I had at that point - and made me take a sharp intake of breath when he first slid inside of me slowly and carefully. Missionary. This I knew and it was familiar, in a way. At least, until he grabbed my hips and rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. I tucked my knees up underneath me and pressed my hands into the mattress either side of his head.

I experimented with whether it was better to rock back and forth or go up and down, before deciding to go from one to the other, varying the pace until I was puffed from the physical exertion - I wasn't used to putting in any more effort than lifting my hips during sex. But I liked it. His hands reached for my breasts, kneading and as I rocked back and forth. My clit brushed against his pubic bone, my moan eliciting one from him. As my arms collapsed from underneath me I leaned in to kiss him, my body pressed up against his as I tried to catch my breath.

Two grabbed my hips once again, flipping me onto my stomach like a rag doll and pushing himself into me from behind. I was pressed into the bed by his weight. It was a struggle to breathe deeply, even more so when he straightened his arms and placed them on my shoulders, pushing me hard into the bed and pinning me there. He kept me this way, his hips pushing faster and faster into my backside until he came, collapsing on me and growling like a wild animal in my ear. The animalistic noise made me shiver, it was so incredibly sexy. That position - me on my stomach, pushed hard into the mattress - became one of my absolute favourites.

We continued to have sex and casually see each other for around six months, and saw each other a few more times over the next five years after that, until he decided to hit on my sister because I 'didn't talk' to him anymore.

That was the end of Two.

#Sex #SexLife