I probably should have known that we weren't going to have a really energetic fuck when he told me that he would call me after his basketball game to let me know he was ready. It isn't impossible to have a high-energy fuck after giving it your all in a sporting event, but it is hard. And I guess it has been way too long since I played or watched basketball, because no warning signs went off.
Not that I have any problems with a slower, gentler session. But after a really stressful and long week, I really wanted to get laid HARD. I wanted to fuck someone fast and relentlessly until I was totally spent.
It wasn't until I was already in his bed that I noticed he was not moving as fast as I was. I felt like I was poking and prodding him along, like I was having to give him more than obvious hints to what I wanted. I quickly got the sense that he was more interested in holding me and being close. Snuggling and kissing and enjoying each other's company. On any other day I might have been good with it, but I was having trouble transitioning to a less aggressive mode.
It wasn't that I was disappointed, but that I had been expecting to unload and explode and then feel like I had run the marathon until I was ready to go home and pass out for a bit. That was what I was after. I wanted the sweet release and then the crash. The perfect way to just black out for a peaceful rest. But fate had decided I was not going to get it.
The sex wasn't terrible once I adjusted myself and my tactics. I had honestly not known what to do with myself at first, but when he took a moment to get up and look for his lube, I took a moment to myself to breathe in and relax. So I wasn't going to get the hard sex I had wanted, that didn't mean I had to be an ass. That didn't mean I couldn't have fun and enjoy myself. When he returned to the bed, I returned with renewed vigor and a determination to make things very fun for both of us.
He had a wonderful preoccupation with my chest hair, which I enjoyed allowing him to play with. I had forgotten my hair tie at home, but he enjoyed me leaving it loose, letting it flop around and get in the way while we rolled around. He even apologized when he snagged it--the last guy who did that suggested the snagging was my fault, because, you know, I had the audacity to grow my hair out in the first place. One time, after I apologized for my hair getting in the way, he grabbed it and pulled it to the back in a pony tail and then let it loose again. "You look much better this way," he said. I have to admit I blushed to hear him say it.
When we finished I held him and he held me under the covers of his bed while we turned the TV on and listened to the rain outside. He was warm and I was cold, so it felt really natural to snuggle close to him. Pressing our hairy bodies together, I felt really good, and I felt totally comfortable. Neither of us was really interested in sleeping, but neither wanted to move for a while either. It was peaceful, and we talked a bit. We talked about what was on TV, about his basketball team, about a number of things, and I was totally comfortable opening up to him.
After I finally pulled myself out of the bed, I went to a movie and then came home. And after that, I enjoyed a quiet night to myself. When I finally got to bed, I slept straight through until late morning and had a slow start to what turned into a very calm day. It may not have been the extreme, sexy fuck I was looking for, but somehow I think it still did the trick. I came away feeling much better than I think I would have if it had just been a fast, hard, anonymous blow and go. Things didn't go as planned, but they went well anyway. And sometimes, that is really enough.