My Boyfriend, the Hedonist

Another yummy man enters my life

By Vivienne Arkell

Gliding down the street in a sensual mood does help me attract sensual men. Yet this man found me online, as it’s incredibly awkward to stop women on the street for their number.

Wes, who was a college rugby star, now lived in the burbs and would soon be visiting the city for sommelier class. I loved that he was food and beverage manager at a yacht club, as he’s certainly accustomed to a clientele that was less than easy. He must already know the importance of manners and service. And though youngish, he’d have some suave moves for pleasing the most demanding.

Seeing him stride into the restaurant wearing a suit was one of the coolest things that I had witnessed in a long time. I’m generally not into men in suits or uniforms, but as he was massively tall, it totally worked. Plus his mischievous grin negated the authoritative aspect of a suit in seconds flat.

Wes had texted that he was running behind schedule cuz the train messed him up, but only a few points were lost for that. His pre-meet rating was still intact at 90%. However, the sweat from sprinting in a suit in the humidity actually made his 30-something skin look like a teenager’s and mixed feelings were running through this older gal’s brain and veins.

My hedonist and I did share the gift of gab and very quickly started yacking about rich people, Europe, our favorite decadent foods and beverages, grilling, messing up the kitchen, music, and Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell. He was really the most engaging man, so much fun. The pursuit of pleasure was definitely the most important thing in both of our lives – a man truly out for my heart and soul.

I often observe a man’s eating habits for clues towards his bedroom personality. The fact that Wes ate so cautiously worried me a bit. But slowly, ever so slowly, he devoured most of our charcuterie platter. When one of us would get caught up in an extended story, he would signal to me to go first and choose the next morsel, as he politely waited to take another bite. It sent my wine soaked mind into a tizzy, trying to imagine how this would play out on future dates.

Even though or date started around 8, we ended up closing down the restaurant and emptying two bottles of Italian reds with our meal. The last train was calling, so Wes and I shared a little smooch at the subway stop before he was on his way.

Minutes after he caught his train, a text arrived thanking me and asking for date number two. So psyched! After his class next week, could we do a cooking date Tuesday noon at my place? He would bring the ingredients and beverages. “Yes,” I replied. “ : ) Can’t wait!”

Wes had studied French white wines in class that morning and brought regional bottles for us to compare. He had also found the gourmet shop nearby to create our own cheese and pate platter to compliment the beverages. In no time we were sampling more than food and wine with playful, almost naked make-out sessions between preparing the courses for dinner. I had misread his bedroom style as tentative, when in fact Wes was a real sensualist. He lived for the perfect and thoughtful paring of flavors, scents, and smells, as well as touch. He truly savored his food and savored my body.

Our cycle of pleasure that Tuesday spun me on my heels. We were newbies, so our technique in the bedroom was a bit hesitant. But in the kitchen we rocked! All said, I think Wes’s face, like mine, was plenty sore from the grinning and kissing when he left on Wednesday morning.

Over the months that followed with my boyfriend the hedonist, the combination of perfectly orchestrated food fests vs. bedroom free-for-alls were incredibly delicious and delightful. I felt so lucky to have a man plan such wonderful dates with yummy ingredients and exquisite execution – all to be easily disrupted and distracted by his libido with my scantily clad bikini-top breasts. Dinner rarely occurred before 8 pm because of all the time-outs that were needed. Mmmm!

I came to realize my man was a sexual agent more than a sexual plaything. He provoked sensual feelings more than being an object for me. Our skill set in bed improved slightly, but our feelings and connection grew exponentially.

Wes was my teddy bear, triggering pleasure zones that circuited straight to my brain, not only my genitals. I wanted the best for him, even if sex was just a vehicle to make us grin and bond more often than cum.


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