Can You Be Naked When I Come To The Door?

I'm sure I could be.  But, I won't.  It's like 50 degrees and you have neighbors. This is the next guy on our trip down Coitus Lane.  We'll call him The Touched One.  He was just that.  Boy was gorgeous.  His body was on point.  His face was adorable.  He was my age.  His house was large, beautiful and quiet.  It was actually a bit too big for just one man.  And he was just a little bit crazy.  Just a touch.

He wasn't that all out crazy.  He just appeared to have grown up rich and he was a little out of touch and a little spoiled.  He talked really fast and was all over the place.  If I would have had to guess the number of prescription meds he was on, I would have guessed 3.  He had finished a bottle of wine before I got there and he was working on another while we talked.  

The talking didn't last long.  Before I knew it, I was sitting on his coffee table with my skirt around my waist and his face buried between my legs.  I hadn't been drinking, so I was able to enjoy every second.  He laid me down on the living room floor and we had sex for the first time.  The second time happened against the wall in the foyer.  We had a long run in his office.  

Then, he got hungry.  So, he decided to cook us dinner.   We made our way to the kitchen and I sat up on the counter helping him sip another glass of wine.  I didn't really want to drink, but I did want to help him slow his pace.  I held his glass more than I drank it.  It helped, a little.  Then, like he had been losing himself in his addiction all night, I lost myself in mine again.  While he cooked dinner, I got off the counter and laid on my back in front of him on the floor.  I propped my legs on the counter and he dropped his pants.  I wasn't wearing panties, and he had put a condom in his pocket before we left the office.  It was a seamless transition from him making dinner, to him making me on the kitchen floor of what I later found out was a model home his father owned.

We ate, then he led me to a bedroom.  There, he laid me down on the bed and after fucking four times around the house, we proceeded to do something that felt a lot like making love. It was slow and gentle.  There was a lot of kissing and whispering.  The same man that had just ravaged me from all angles for the past 2 hours was now gazing into my eyes and telling me how beautiful I was.  It wasn't bad, but it was a stark shift.  After we finished in the bedroom, he seemed like he wanted to pull the covers back and snuggle in together.  This wasn't going to happen.  

• A. I wasn't about to get all snuggly with dude in this mysterious house.  There were no signs of a wife, but I wasn't going to play around.
• B. I don't like to snuggle up to crazy.  I am not big on forming emotional bonds with the unstable. 
• C. My friends were texting me from a birthday party at an after hours strip club.  I had places to be.

So, I had to take my leave of The Touched One.  It was a good time, but I don't think I would do it again.  Crazy is okay in small doses, but I don't need any oversized helpings of crazy.  I'll pass.  Okay, maybe just once more. But, that's it. No more than once. (And by once, I mean 6 times in one night.)