Tonight the Detroit Tigers are hosting the Kansas City Royals at Comerica Park in downtown Detroit. I won’t be going alone however.
Nola and I had been talking on OkCupid for the last couple of days and, being a big Tigers fan, she decided she would join me for the game; she bought a seat in the bleachers. Having the company of a local sounded like fun. She proposed we meet at a local bar beforehand to gauge our chemistry. If there was none we would simply take our respective seats half a stadium apart from each other.
One of the things that attracts me to Nola is her dating blog. I find it raw, honest, slightly mean, rippingly funny, and very much a turn on. Reading it has provided me some insight into her. Frankly, given her strident attitude and severe disbelief in my professed abilities, I’m a little bit concerned about how we’re going to get along.
The bar Nola suggested had formerly been part of a train depot and was within walking distance of the stadium. I arrived a few minutes early and waited for her outside in the early evening, the sidewalk still baking from the summer sun. I wasn’t sure which direction she would be coming from so I was continually looking left, looking right. Is that her? No. Is that her over there? Ummm, no. And then… Yes! Wow. Yes! That’s definitely her.
Nola strode up to me with purpose, full of confidence. A brash, bold, pretty, and busty blonde close to my height, well-dressed in a skirt and blouse. We hug a quick hello. She smells wonderful and I immediately want to be near her, to kiss her; I need to “feel her out” first so I suggest we grab a seat and chat over drinks.
Having read her blog I already know her drink of choice… vodka soda. She’s impressed. I’m feeling pretty darn proud of myself.
I choose a very nice wheat beer for myself. Slightly heavy on the hops but overall solid character.
Nola and I chat about my Midwest shenanigans. It’s the first time I have talked about my adventure. I tell her some abridged stories while, for privacy reasons, being extremely careful to speak in generalities. I sense she’s trying to determine if I’m truly orally skilled or just a very good marketer. As we finish our drinks she tells me she thinks I should blog about my experiences. I demur saying I don’t think people would be very interested.
We head out toward the ballpark but make a stop in a beautiful Art Deco bar literally in the shadow of Comerica Park. We stand outside on the patio with our drinks (vodka soda for her, a Bell’s Oberon for me), the smell of sizzling brats wafting over from the grill just a few feet away. Our conversation turns to our love of baseball originating in our childhood. Nola evokes something warm and nostalgic in me. She seems to soften momentarily. I try to steal a kiss but she gladly lends me one. We smile at each other and the moment quickly passes, brought back to reality by the cacophony around us.
She pokes at me for my loyalties; I find myself having to apologize for being a Yankees fan and for them winning 27 World Championships. (I’m also rolling my eyes.) Our give-and-take is aggressive and has a low hum of playful, sexual tension.
Game time is rapidly approaching so we throw back our drinks and head across the street to enter the stadium.
We slip into the bleachers and watch an inning. But then we’re out of our seats and she’s giving me a tour of the stadium. Between touring, eating, shopping, drinking, and (apparently) me taking a lot of stadium selfies, I don’t think we saw more than 3 or 4 innings of this game. Detroit loses to Kansas City, 5-1. Hell if I know what happened.
Nola and I meet back at my hotel. I give her the grand tour of the suite. Living area. Bedroom.
She doesn’t “take the bait” and declines to enter the bedroom when I do. Instead we’re standing just outside its threshold when she steps up close to me, toe-to-toe. Nola puts her arms around my neck, leans in, and we kiss. Her lips are firm yet soft. Her breath mingles with mine as our tongues find one another. My hands slide down her back, slowly massaging and kneading. Nola reaches up to play with my hair and in the same motion presses my head toward her to kiss me harder. I feel her hips against my hips and my engorged cock.
I kiss her neck and am thanked with a deep moan. I nibble, bite slightly, and listen to her purr. Nola moves us toward the bedroom where we climb onto the bed. She lays flat on her back, I’m on my knees next to her and slowly move in to continue enjoying her neck. I bite harder now and she grabs onto my head to keep me from moving. The intensity builds until she finally pushes me away, panting.
I slow the pace.
My mouth descends to her cleavage. She obliges by unbuttoning her blouse and, true to her no-nonsense character, also removes her skirt. This seems like a great opportunity for me to strip down as well. Off come my dress shirt and jeans, tossed out of sight onto the floor.
Now, mostly skin-to-skin, I straddle Nola, kissing her chest and stomach. Moving to her breasts I use my mouth and fingers to play with her nipples through her bra. Her breathing has gotten heavier. Her pale skin is beginning to flush. I reach around and unhook her bra, freeing her gorgeous breasts. Her nipples are the longest I can ever recall seeing; they’re glorious and I want to have them in my mouth. I am hovering above her right breast; she moans as she feels my warm breath touch her skin. I take her nipple in my mouth, teasing with my lips, tongue, and teeth. Pulling, nibbling, sucking. As this this nipple receives pleasure, her other nipple receives light pain as I gently twist it between my fingers. I slowly increase the pressure. She moans her approval.
Nola is ready.
My tongue begins to trace a path down her body. Lingering here and there. Building the anticipation. As I reach the end of my trail I move between her legs and help her slide off her panties. I lean down and my mouth finds her drenched pussy. Nola gasps at this first contact. Her sweet aroma fills my nostrils and urges me on. My tongue rolls around her clit before driving into her wet hole.
Nola tastes like honey.
I want more, much more. My mouth sucks on her outer lips, pulling on each one in turn. My tongue works up and down her slit, flicking at her clit with each pass. Her hips are rhythmically pressing up toward me. Her back is arching. I want to open her up further to this experience by quickly bringing her to her first orgasm. My fingers slip inside her and my mouth concentrates on her clit.
I know she’s close.
She hangs here on the edge for several minutes. And several minutes more. So close. But I am unable to give her satisfaction.
Nola pulls me up to lay next to her. She feels the need to explain and unexpectedly begins to divulge her frustrations. She speaks quietly now with a twinge of sadness in her voice. I move closer, our bodies touching. My hand strokes her hip gently and reassuringly.
She’s frustrated that she’s unable to get out of her head enough to climax tonight.
She’s frustrated that the guy she has “sort of been seeing” has recently had sex with a younger woman. It was “just sex”, of course, but it makes her feel inadequate.
She’s frustrated that she wants to have her own fling to get back at him but she knows that this is the wrong reason to be with me tonight.
She’s frustrated that this dialog has been going on in her head all night, preventing her from fully enjoying our time together.
Nola has figuratively laid herself bare before me. I’m touched by her confession. It’s raw. It comes from a place deep within her.
Her brashness has melted away. Her walls have come down. For the first time tonight I glimpse the true Nola.
And she’s vulnerable.