Mysterious Man - Part Two

I'd been thinking about Mr. M.M for two weeks. Sure, I couldn't remember his name or how we began chatting, but I did remember how fabulous the sex was. Nobody had made me feel that way before apart from J, and that's because we'd been sleeping together for over seven years. As much as I pined for a repeat performance with Mr. M.M, I resigned myself into believing it was one of those beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime, romantic moments.

Which is why on, what was shaping up to be, an incredibly unsuccessful night out with Miss E.D, I was surprised to be greeted by a very handsome Mr. M.M. He was as cute as I remembered, if not more so, and I immediately felt my heart beat that little bit faster. The second I recognised him, my jaw dropped. He looked surprised that I looked surprised. This, I thought, must be fate.

Mr. M.M had no problem introducing me to his friend who seemed to; a) know Mr. M.M is married and b) be well aware of his extra-marital activity with me. Whilst I found it odd that Mr. M.M hadn’t tried to hide his cheating tendencies, it also made the situation easier. I didn’t have to lie or bite my tongue in case his friend caught a whiff of what had happened and reported it back to Mr. M.M’s wife. In fact, it meant I could be downright flirtatious. And I was.

Several drinks later, it was time to leave. Whilst Miss E.D. and my other friends argued about whose apartment to go back to for an afterparty, Mr. M.M and I quietly slipped into a taxi and eloped back to his place. Apparently, his wife was away on holiday for two weeks and he intended on making full use of a free apartment. Although, in my mind, whilst I had been flirtatious throughout the evening, I only intended to head back to his apartment for a few innocent drinks...

Back at Mr. M.M’s, we chatted about our families and music tastes. He then started spinning some tunes on his decks whilst I hung out of his 27th floor window, smoking cigarettes, until he played a tune I loved, and then I’d have a little dance in his living room. His apartment was like a bachelor pad. It was minimalistic and didn’t really seem to have a woman’s touch. In fact, I had forgotten he was married until I spotted a row of cards on a book shelf saying “Congratulations” and “Mum to be”. For some reason, I didn’t let those cards register in my mind until the next day. I, subconsciously, completely glossed over them.

Amidst the drinking, dancing and DJing, Mr. M.M caught me off guard, grabbed me around the waist, and kissed me. It was hot. And whilst I knew where the kiss would lead, there was just no way I could resist him. Remembering how good our previous encounter had been, all my morals (the few I have) went out of the window. The kiss was amazing and, when I say amazing, I mean absolutely perfect. Even thinking about it makes me horny.

After a lot of kissing, we ended up on the sofa. Naked. It was already 6am and the early sunrise lit the room beautifully. Mr. M.M looked at me in a way which made me feel like we were totally in love with each other. The chemistry was immense and as soon as he entered me, I felt this huge rush. It was as if love, lust, passion and desire rushed through my body at that very instant. It gave me such a high, it intensified the experience even more. A feeling I’d only ever experienced with J before this.

As we made love on the sofa, I remember thinking how I never wanted it to end. We moved to the bedroom, although Mr. M.M was careful to expose me to as little of his wife as possible, and so we headed for the spare room. We continued our session and, in between all the kissing, Mr. M.M and I agreed we’d spend the entirety of the next day in bed. We did. And we soaked up every inch of one another.

I left the next day, totally elated. It had been the most passionate and intense sexual encounter I’d had in a long time. With my head in the clouds, I completely forgot about my favourite watch that I’d left on Mr. M.M’s dining table, and it wasn’t until I made it back to my place that I realised I wasn’t wearing it.

Without wanting to appear like some kind of crazy, obsessed stalker, I thought the best way to get it back would be to email Mr. M.M. I Googled his name and up popped his phone number and email address. For a moment, I did consider sending him a text message, but I realised I would be far too tempted to continue messaging him even after I received my watch. I sent him an email. I was very nonchalant in my message but, secretly, I’d hoped it may result in another rendezvous before his wife came back from her holiday. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Instead, my beloved watch was sent back to me via courier.

I’ve not heard from Mr. M.M since. To be honest, I’m glad I haven’t. As much as I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, I do feel bad for his pregnant wife. Although I’m grateful he didn’t hide the fact he was married, as he’s the kind of guy I could totally fall for had he been single. As it was, his audacity put me off wanting to pursue him, making it far easier for me not to become emotionally attached to him. He’s clearly a dog and, whilst he says all the right things to make you melt, he will always be a scoundrel...

Mysterious Man - Part One

One warm, sunny day in March, some of the world's top DJs descended upon a beach in Dubai. It was set to be a fabulous night at an amazing location, and so many groups of friends gathered at the beach to drink heavily, dance like they'd never danced before and have a whale of a time.

My group of friends were one of those to hit the sand, and the night truly lived up to its expectations. Arriving when the sun was still shining, I was in a great mood. The atmosphere was chilled out but you could feel it heating up, ready for a party. Some people were sat on towels and sunloungers along the shoreline, others were queueing up at the bar for a drink and some were already on the sandy dancefloor grooving away to eclectic beats.

Miss G.G and I rocked up to the bar, to buy a bottle of vodka, before settling down on towels along the shore. As the sunset, more and more people filled the beach. More of our friends joined us and our vodka was diminishing at an unimaginable rate. By the time all of our friends had arrived, I was already quite tipsy.

Another friend of mine, Miss S.S, took me on regular scouts of the entire venue, looking for hot men. I remember falling flat on my face three times. On one of those occasions, I had a beer in my hand and managed to spill it all over my own head. The night was reckless and feckless. It was unashamedly debaucherous, but everyone was having a good time.

Towards the end of the night, I remember chatting to a cute stranger, Mr.M.M. I don't recall much of our conversation, but I do remember discovering he was married. Shortly after finding out he had a wife, I walked off, but he pursued me and persuaded me to continue talking to him. We left the area where my friends were keeping a beady eye on me, and headed off for a stroll along the beach before heading to the bar for a drink.

Mr.M.M and I must have been chatting for quite some time because when we returned to where my friends were, it was as if they'd never been stood there at all. All that was left was my handbag perched on the table and an empty bottle of vodka slung on the sand. Mr.M.M and I decided to sprawl ourselves out on a sunlounger and chat some more. It would have been incredibly romantic if we weren't both completely annihilated.

As the gentle waves washed over our feet and the moon lit our faces, we had a little kiss. That kiss quickly turned into a passionate embrace, so we decided it was time to leave and both jumped into a cab together. As much as I wanted to rip his clothes off, I didn't intend to take him home, but it ended up happening anyway.

Back at my place, we continued drinking. We sat on my balcony, smoking and sharing stories about our felines. Mr.M.M loved my kitten and, as I've said before, love me, love my pussy. After a lengthy conversation, covering all sorts of topics, we moved to the bedroom, where we really got to know each other.

It was amazing. So much so, I'd go as far as to say it's the best I've had in a long while. He was strong, energetic and loving all at the same time. We weren't shy when it came to telling each other how much we were enjoying ourselves. It was intense, and we both knew we both felt how good it was.

When Mr.M.M left the next morning, it didn't surprise me that he didn't take my number, and there was absolutely no way I was going to ask him for his. It was what it was - a beautiful encounter that I would look back on fondly in the future... Until I realised I didn't even know his name. Or how I'd struck up conversation with him. I didn't even know what he did for work. All I could remember was that he used to have a cat named Captain Cocoa.

Over the next week, I wracked my brain trying to figure out who he was. I Facebooked what I thought was his first name, in the hope we'd have friends in common and his picture would pop up. It didn't. I quizzed all of my friends who were out that night, begging them for a lead as to who this beautiful stranger was, but they had no idea either.

Miss S.S thought it was possible she had his business card but, when she looked, she couldn't find it. My friends also had conflicting ideas of what Mr.M.M's name was. There was no hope, and so I resigned myself to the fact that I'd never find out who he was and, instead, I'd just have to cherish what I could remember...