Leah Lays London

Unspectacular sex February 8, 2011

Friday night, my roommate persuaded me to a party. Tipsy with drink, I left with a guy around one in the morning. In his early thirties, he wasn’t particularly cute, but he told entertaining stories about Kenya, where he works for an NGO. At his place, I sucked, he licked, and we fucked. I no longer remember the sequence of events. I no longer remember whether I came that night. The cock was functional. The sex was serviceable. The hours we spent naked together were insignificant. It was like a meal that filled the belly, but failed to excite the palate and wasn’t memorable for the company. Going through the motions yielded only a diffuse pleasure. We sweated. We grunted. We slept. Details of the assignation were forgotten by morning.

After the concert on Saturday, several of us went for drinks at a pub. Following a couple of rounds, I went home with Daniel. I had brought condoms this time, and so had he. Foreplay was brief: kisses, his hand in my pants, lips mouthing his erection through the dressy black trousers, a hasty undressing. In the bedroom, he was on top of me the first time. For the second fuck, I rode Daniel from above. In the morning: an interlude of doggy and then cocksucking. My hand twisted on the main part of the stem as he came. Semen dripped on my lips and tongue. Again, sex existed as a utilitarian exercise that satisfied a body’s needs.

Amadeo is in Bonn this week. The usual mid-week date on a Wednesday night is deferred. I must amuse myself otherwise.