Max Power: 4

I neglected to mention this in my previous posts, but I DESPERATELY NEEDED TO GET LAID. For a variety of reasons (personal issues, a partner’s health issues, long distance) I haven’t had one-to-one intimacy with a partner in a very, very long time. Saying “YES” to dates with Max truly meant I was putting my own needs on the table, which felt good (and a little indulgent) after working so hard to please everyone else.

First time sex can be fun, but in my experience it only gets better as you build trust and learn each other’s bodies. I really love the process of figuring out what makes someone tick, learning how to push their buttons. And I love watching someone learn how to push mine. Max is a perfectionist. She wants to get it right.

Not only did she send me adorable photos of sea lions when she was away for a weekend in San Francisco, when I asked her to send me a selfie she sent a photo of her muscly tattooed forearm. Touché.

We had plans to visit a sex club with the babe coven that week, Max and her friend Eden (wingwoman extraordinaire) booked a hotel room and promised to be in town. We started trash talking a little about getting our hands on each other.

Max has a thing for making pretty girls sit on her face. This, naturally, makes me blush from head to toe. She likes to tease me about it, “You’ll look so good up there.” She knows already that I’m a good girl and I’ll give her what she wants. She uses this emoji liberally when I fuss about it: 😎

At the club our little girl gang took over the red room and caught up on the summer. Eden told us stories from her small town dating adventures, Joie and her friend filled us in on some ancestral healing they’d done in a yoga class earlier that day, I showed everyone pictures of the baby squirrel I was fostering. Drinks were flowing and the club was getting busy, as folks walked passed our window view we applauded the particularly gorgeous lingerie sets, as well as the bearded dude wearing Ouija board underwear.

When Ms.O suggested everyone get a drink Max and I offered to hold our spot. As soon as they left her hands were on me, her mouth on mine as she told me between breaths that she missed my lips. She climbed on top of me, pinning me down with her hips, she watched my face as she took each of my wrists and carefully pinned them above my head with her hands.

Max was tipsy, I liked it. I don’t drink, and I’m often turned off by how people behave when they get drunk, but Max was kind of adorable. She’s usually quiet, but now she was out of her shell and telling me all kinds of secrets. The rest of the girls were taking forever to return, and I was correct in assuming that Ms.O (my own wingwoman extraordinaire) was keeping them away to give Max time to ravage me.

Eventually we found everyone at the bar and spent some time chit-chatting, but I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. It was strange, there I was uncharacteristically free as a bird, I didn’t have any partners there, or hosting responsibilities, so when Max asked me to go back to her hotel room with her I said yes. Joie, Bee and Ms.O were so supportive as we snuck away like teenagers.

Let me tell you I spent more time sitting on someone’s face that night than I ever have collectively in my whole entire life. She was insatiable and delighted. I just wanted to spoil her. She spent an entire 30 minutes with her face between my legs delivering a drunken soliloquy about the perfection of my thighs as they crushed her face and she kissed them. I couldn’t help but smile, it was good for the soul.

“I like you,” she said, earnestly. Her eyes are silvery-green. Like the sage plants I grow in my garden. Her brows and lashes are dark and strong. She’s so fucking handsome. Too many vodka’s had made her too honest. She told me how I made her feel the first time we met, how I felt her thigh at the slumber party, how she was thinking of me when she was on her trip. She let me make her cum, gripping the back of my head as her clit throbbed against my tongue. I was satisfied and exhausted.

We realized it was somehow 2am, and Eden hadn’t surfaced, we dragged ourselves out of bed and went back to the club. Eden and Ms.O had entertained themselves by becoming better acquainted, and also hooking up with a super-hot couple in the pool. We apologized for keeping them waiting, they shared secret glances and smiles in response, assuring us it was fine. It was a good night.

********

The next morning, while I was curled up at home with a cup of tea and my head in the clouds, there was an unexpected knock at the door. It was flowers. A gorgeous bouquet of yellow, purple and pink. I opened the card and died blushing. I texted O immediately.

Reader, not only did Max send me a gorgeous sunny bouquet, but she also sent a bouquet to the darling Ms.O to apologize for keeping her up so late. The bouquet for O was white lilies with muted blues and matched her apartment perfectly. Each selection of flowers carefully curated to reflect our tastes.

In Ms.O’s own words:

We were both utterly charmed. O appropriately dubbed this a “Power Move”.

A week later I dried one of the bright yellow roses to harness some of that power for something witchy in the future. Practical magic. ⚡️