December 22, 2011

Mina

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:01 pm by woodynyou

I don’t know if last Saturday night and Sunday morning really happened.  I don’t have memories as much as I have feelings.  By the time Sunday evening fell and I was starting my third gig of the day, it hardly seemed possible that a mere twelve hours prior I was in her presence.

On January 27th, 2011 I wrote a post in craigslist with the subject,

Cute guy for woman with small breasts,hairy pussy,and little stomach

I am an attractive, in-shape MWM (soon to be separated) who is interested in exploring my sexuality with a sensual woman. I realize that my subject is very specific — I just wanted to post about the kind of body that turns me on. I have always been attracted to petite women with small breasts and large nipples. I also like breasts that sag just a little bit as this is so much sexier to me than the rock-hard breast implants that are de rigueur for many of today’s workout-obsessed women. Although I’m not into obese women I do appreciate a slight tummy.

Of course if you don’t have to look exactly like this. Sensuality and a nice personality trumps all!

I didn’t expect to get a response.  On a lark I had decided to post about what I write about in this blog.  I said to myself, ‘what the heck, I’ll just ask for what I want.’

Four days later, much to my surprise, I received a response from a woman named Mina.  The letter began,

It seems to me I might be the person you are seeking. But I’m not sure if you are the one for me.

That’s Mina — succinct and direct.  I would come to discover a kind of poetry in her to-the-point, matter-of-fact style of writing.  She has an ability to speak the truth while avoiding superfluous small talk.  I would come to learn in her letters, as well as in person, that she will at once hold you at arms distance while engulfing you in her warm presence. 

The letter went on to state that she too would like to explore her sensual side, but with the right person — someone worth her time and energy.  She described herself as a petite Asian living in San Jose who was 39 years old, divorced, and educated.

Thus began our correspondence.  Our first few letters were mostly about our sexual preferences.  After three or four emails we exchanged photos.  The photos that she sent became incrementally more sensual.  They were artfully done black and white photos which she had taken herself.  She was indeed pretty, but her photos, much like her personality, had a certain mystery.  In some, her entire face was not visible.  Other’s were nudes taken at interesting, but demure angles. 

We did not meet.  San Jose is over an hour south of where I live, and I was still living with my wife, so it didn’t make sense to arrange a meeting.  Or it could have been that we never found the opportune time.

Still, we emailed, usually once a week, but eventually tapering off to once a month.  We became pen pals, and though our letters became less sexual in nature, they always had a heartfelt intensity.  When I was brooding over Amanda last summer Mina was there for me, understanding and comforting.

Last week I received an email from Mina saying that she was coming up to the East Bay on Saturday night and she asked if we could meet.  I was working that night and wouldn’t be off until 11.  I had a gig the next morning at a church but I told her that if she liked she could spend the night so that we could spend a little more time together.  I had to leave very early, but she would be able to leave at a more reasonable hour.

That Saturday at 11:10 I found Mina parked near a hydrant just outside of the restaurant I had been playing at.  I knew from her photos that she was pretty, but I was unprepared by how beautiful she would be in person.  She had long black hair, full lips that had an indentation that lent sensuality, and an easy smile that lit up her face.  She talked animatedly and she used broad hand gestures that made her seem even more engaging.

I asked her if she would like to get a drink but she said she was worried about driving after alcohol so we went back to my place where I had some beers in the refrigerator. 

We were strangers and yet we already knew each other.  We sat in my living room talking and eating pretzels.  Our conversation was easy and friendly, yet there was an unspoken tension in the air as bedtime neared.

I had promised her in my emails that there would be no sex.  To this end I donned my red flannel pajamas.  Between my t-shirt, underwear, and pajamas, there were several layers of safety separating us.

Mina, on the other hand, had forgotten to pack sleepwear.  At first she said she would sleep in her clothes, but in the end she laughed, saying, …you can’t sleep in jeans!  I gave her one of my t-shirts and she took off her pants and climbed into bed. 

I’m smiling now as I recall how she asked which side I liked to sleep on.  Of course I didn’t know — I had only ever slept in this bed on my own.  We spent a few minutes debating which side was best and finally I took the inside, nearest the wall.  Mina tentatively climbed into bed and lay down with her back to me.  It was at that instant when I realized that there were not enough layers in the world to keep me from putting my arms around her. 

I went to kiss her and our lips brushed, but she turned away.  We went back to lying down and my hand rested on her bare leg.  I pulled her close and my lips found her neck while my hand caressed her legs.  Then I could feel her begin to move, her ass undulating just above my left hand, and my heart began to beat faster.

My hands began to explore her body, feeling her breasts through the t-shirt, all the while my lips on her neck.  She smelled so sweet — not a sharp perfume — possibly a subtle bath oil, or the shampoo she used. 

All of my feelings were intensified because this did not feel like a random one-night casual encounter.  This was someone I knew — someone I had shared my life with, and who had shared her life with me. 

My hand slipped into the back of her panties and felt the smallest, firmest ass.  I could not stop myself.  As I reached further down I found her pussy which was wet and my fingers slipped easily inside.

At this point there was still a small part of me that thought I could stay true to my word and resist temptation.  A very small part. 

Ten minutes later she lay naked on my bed and I beheld the loveliest, most sensual woman I had ever seen in my life. 

Do you have a condom?

She lay on her back and I simply knelt facing her, awestruck by the vision before me.  I did not want to move –  I wanted to remember.  I think, had she allowed me, I could have stared at her for hours.  I must have looked comical kneeling over her in my fireman-red pajamas while she was stark naked.  

Do you have a condom? 

How could I go through with this after my promise?  The sex would be incredible, but how much better would it be if we waited?  But what if I never see her again?  Wouldn’t I regret this for the rest of my life?  But does my word mean nothing? 

Do you have a condom?

I did have a condom and my word means nothing.  It felt like it took fifteen minutes to peel off all of those layers,  but finally I was naked and I entered Mina.

There are not enough words to do justice to sex with Mina.  Her body was a river of sexuality and it responded to my every thrust.  Her gorgeous breasts, small with the most subtle of curves, had pointy, dark brown nipples.  Her pussy was beautifully natural — hairy, wet, and tight.  It was heavenly.    She looked at least ten years younger than her age.  Her skin was luminous and soft, and always her sweet and musky scent.

How wonderful to be inside of her, and afterwards how comforting it was to fall asleep beside her.  There is a sadness and joyousness about this person.  I wanted to cry and I wanted to possess her. 

Four hours later I awoke to my alarm.  Mina lay asleep beside me.  I got up, showered, dressed, made coffee, and had breakfast.  I had to wake her up to say goodbye.  Half asleep, as if still in a dream, she said,

“I’m cold.”    

She said it so sweetly and so innocently — like a child.  I turned the heat up, pulled the covers tight, embraced her, and left. 

When I returned to my apartment at midday she was gone.  Her only remaining trace was the t-shirt that she had worn, now discarded on my bed.  I held it to my face and inhaled, and as if to confirm the events of the previous night, it smelled like Mina.  I will forever regret not having worn it to bed that night.  Now it has been laundered and its scent, like Mina, is gone.

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