The British girl I devirginized arrived to my hotel room with a carry-on bag. I was a bit surprised because we didn’t discuss her staying with me, but since I had no intention of going for other girls, I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the first time that a girl weaseled a relationship escalation move on me. I’ll have to be more mindful of this in the future.
I hadn’t seen her in three months, so we got right down to sex. It was good. For the first time there were more moans of pleasure than screams of pain.
While she was out for work, I explored the city and went to the coffee shop to work. She came home at 6pm and after a couple hours of relaxing in the room, we went to an Italian restaurant. She paid. After that she showed me around the center of her city, but it was touristy and not what I would have liked. We had a couple drinks at a bar. Then we came home and had sex.
It was Saturday and in the morning we had sex. She previously disliked it when I hit from behind because it’s “impersonal,” but unprompted she turned over and assumed my favorite position. I went deeper than I ever have. Afterwards I asked her about her change of heart and she said, “I’m starting to like it more.” My sex training was starting to take.
For the first time I felt the urge to separate from her, but instead we had breakfast downstairs. We had more sex. I told her I “had” to get work done and that she was welcome to come with me to the coffee shop with a book. She got bored after an hour, as I expected, because no one has coffee shop endurance like I have, and went back to the room. I enjoyed this time alone and was reluctant to return.
I researched an area of town to go out. We took the subway and stumbled on a Belgian restaurant. Her eyes seemed more focused onto me than before. She knew that I was immediately going to Poland after my time with her.
“I enjoy our time together,” I said, “but knowing what happened last time I was in Poland, I think it’s best we take it one day at a time. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone here.”
After a long pause, she said, “I recently started dating someone. It’s early.” Her head bowed slightly. Now I know who she’s been texting on and off from the bed in between my orgasms (she herself has still not experienced an orgasm, as far as I knew).
I was actually pleased. I would feel no guilt with whatever choice I’d make with her. But I was curious: “How long have you been dating? Does he know you’re with someone else?”
“Not very long. He thinks I’m with an American girlfriend.”
We went to a bar, had a drink, then went back to the hotel room to have sex. Like always, we did not use condoms.
She left early for a bridal dressing. I timed it so I would leave the hotel room right before she came back to maximize my time away. I went to drink with a couple guys. She texted me on and off, asking if I’m having a nice time and suggesting time points to meet, but I kept it vague and stayed out late. I returned drunk to the hotel room and unrobed her for sex.
When I was about to orgasm, I pulled out and said, “Open your mouth.” I put my dick in her face but she didn’t open. “Open, open!” I said, hurriedly, but her mouth remained closed. Then I came all over her face. I laughed and got her a towel. “I told you to open.”
Today was her birthday. I gave her morning sex before she had to go to work, but this time she didn’t want to leave. She snuggled up next to me in a half-dressed state, wanting to talk when I just wanted to sleep. She made a move for my dick, but I denied her. I turned my head away when she wanted to kiss. “You’re going to be late for work!” I said. She left and I felt relieved that I had the next eight hours completely to myself.
I dreaded her return, but when it came I wasn’t entirely displeased. A part of me missed her companionship. For her birthday I took her to Pizza Hut since she told me she liked pizza. She was satisfied and we went back to the hotel room for more sex. Afterwards I told her that I could no longer perform. I never had so much sex in five days.
On my way to the shower, she said, “I have to make a call.”
“Is it the guy?” I asked, mockingly.
“Yes. Are you jealous?”
I laughed. “No, not at all.”
The next morning she insisted on driving me to the airport. As an extra birthday gift I gave her a near-full bottle of Absolut vodka that I had purchased at the airport duty-free shop.
She parked the car at the departure gate. I didn’t want to linger, quickly getting my bags and hugging her goodbye before the tears welling in her eyes fell. I gave her a kiss goodbye and made my way to the terminal, eager for round two of Poland.
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