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An 11 Course Meal

A few years back I dated the most dapper pilot I've ever seen in my life. Here's an excerpt from one of our encounters.

He told me that sex was an 11 course meal. He said that he liked to take his time and devour.

I thought the kisses on my neck and his hand up my thigh was at least round one as we ate dinner in the West Village. I should have known I was in for it when the evening included oysters and champagne. A few hours later, we sat in his kitchen drinking his homemade hot chocolate. The recipe is to DIE FOR. He began planting kisses upon my neck, my hands, my hair.

“I love how your hair smells,” he said tugging it a little. Oh lord! “Thank you,” I whispered. He grabbed my chin and turned me towards him then looked me dead in the eye. “11 courses,” he repeated. “And which is this?” I asked. By my calculations we were on 3, maybe 4. “This is only course number one,” he said. I think the shudder in my panties quickly moved us to number 2.

How many courses did you last have?

Sheena LaShay is a Wild Magical Woman, Intellectual Sensual Shaman, and Creative Artist. She writes for, Owning Pink, Verizon Wireless, Bodybinds and is the Co-President of the Pole Dancing Bloggers Association.

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