I met him on the hottest day of the year so far in a hotel off the motorway. The hotel had no AC and we both ended up a sweaty mess by the end of it. Thank god he thought ahead and brought bottles of water. There was just one small desk fan pushing around the hot air in the room.

It had been so long since I’d had sex or had an orgasm that it became overwhelming, the feeling of coming over and over again were so intense. I’ve never had to take a break mid-sex before but that time? with him? I did.

It was one orgasm on top of another. With his mouth or his hands. And there was let up but the frequency of them was just hard to recover from so I stopped him, asked him for a minute. And he was lovely. He gave me water, and let me cuddle into the side of him while I caught my breath. Even though it was ten million degrees and sharing our body heat was probably too much. And he rubbed my back and when I could, we talked a bit.

I think I felt really warmly towards him for how patient he was with me when I first met him (nearly had a panic attack driving to the hotel) and how kind he was about everything. And so I stopped us again during quite a heavy make out session that I wanted something else in my mouth and I loved the way he smiled and said we could make that happen.

It’s crazy how days like that one made me realise how little I care about certain things. He warned me beforehand that he has a tendency towards sweatiness. And there was plenty of sweat. At one point he was over me and a drop of sweat rolled off his face and landed on mine. And apart from the surprise of not expecting it, I didn’t really care.

Afterwards, I felt so physically spent but still needed the closeness of skin against skin contact and we talked about it. That I guess it’s just not something that concerns me. I was much more focused on all the pleasure I was having.