The last sane bloke in Chicago

I had sex. And a date. Actually 2.

I had sex tonight. Not the kind of fast and furious sex you're probably used to here, not even in a bed. That kind of slow and passionate sex that includes every taste, every touch, with conversation and laughter in between sessions. The kind of sex everyone should hope for, but rarely gets.

We fucked on the dining table, sloppy sex that tasted amazing. It was loud in the room, the lights were bright, and our neighbors didn't care at all.

THE SETUP
It all started when an anonymous blogger and I chatted a bit online. Neither of us had much in the way of large plans later, and I'm flying out of the country tomorrow, so tonight would be a good night to get together with someone fun and cute. Since my in-town bootie calls number in the low zeros, I figure what better than to take a lovely lady out for dinner, drinks and good conversation?

I proposed we get together, and she said she'd let me know. Usually that's a bad sign, but it WAS last might. She left work, I went home. Eventually, she hit me up on the Google Chat, confirming wanting to do something.

We bantered back and forth about where to go: Taxim (tapas) or maybe Avec (French). I love Avec because it's good French cuisine served "family" style: everyone sitting at one big table, with their own orders.

I left my house at 7:55pm and told her I'd be there in 22 minutes. She didn't seem impressed with my ability to know times and distances. 21 minutes later, I pull up to her apartment building and stepped outside of the car to call her.

I'm here, but I'm a minute early. "Oh, that's a problem, I need a minute more" she joked. We laughed and she said she'd be right out front. She was a COMPLETE FUCKING KNOCKOUT in a purple dress. I told her to dress casually and she comes dressed in a way I'd expect a woman to dress for Alinea. Thank god for tanned women with great curves AND good legs who can dress. God graces me regularly.

I hold the car door for her and she makes a comment, to which I replied that my mother taught me well. We hit the main thoroughfare to get to the highway, and we're pulling up to Avec not 20 minutes later. Avec is a restaurant that packs itself to the gills. Family-style dining is WISE if you're busy, there is NEVER an empty chair. This makes it hard to give the hostess $20 for a seat when there are none. So I drop my name and we step outside.

THE TEASE
The hostess warns us that the bartender may or may not come outside. Anonymous Blogger and I look over the menu, her noting that she doesn't like heavy reds (generally my favorite) and both of us agreeing against pink wines. She likes Champagne, as do I, but there is neither Champagne nor prosecco on the menu. Drat!

Within 20 minutes, our 2 seats are called so we wander in. Our waiter is Gentile Dave (my nickname for him so I don't forget). I do ask him if he's Jewish Dave, to which he frighteningly/jokingly responds "No, Gentile Dave." Good enough. We're seated in between a party of 4 or 5 guys and a pregnant girl, with a bunch of ladies on the other side of us. Not many gorgeous people in the joint, but everyone's cute and dressed well.

I wore a simple pink linen dress shirt and jeans. Anonymous blogger had tits, I mean, she had a purple dress. Right. We decided to take a stab at a PINK sparkling wine, I believe a Baga Rose Brut. I could be wrong. The waiter wasn't sure if he even had it, so I proceeded to back it up with the best sparkling white on the menu. The price list was CHEAP.

A few minutes later, he arrives with our wine, the rose brut I ordered. He pours for me to check the wine, and I take a whiff and nod as he finishes my pour and then hers. GOOD wine. Perfect for a hot summer day.

Anonymous Blogger and I go over the menu. I'll call her Delecta from now on (it doesn't mean what you think it means). She hasn't been to Avec before, so I make a few recommendations. She wants the Yelp favorite small plate, and we decide on one large plate to share. Gentile Dave takes our order, and we don't see him much from that point on unfortunately. I hate shitty unfriendly unbantering waiters. FAIL.

We imbibe more of our sparkling pink and make GOOD conversation. She's laughing. A lot. I'm laughing. She notes that I talk about myself a lot, something I rarely do if EVER. But I'm comfortable with her, and I don't mind making a fool out of myself if it means she'll laugh again. Contagious, damn it.


THE FOREPLAY
The first small plate comes out: asparagus, hummus-s spread, on crostinis. It's VERY good. I don't eat asparagus often due to my kidney stones, but they didn't affect me at all tonight. Hott. My spooge will taste like asparagus for the next 2 days though.

We eat, in conversation, and continue laughing and drinking our rose sparkling wine.

The the date portion of the night comes: spicy chorizo, wrapped in dates, wrapped in bacon. She had 2 dates, I had 2 dates (hence the 2 dates of the night). I try to talk, but she shushes me and puts her finger up to her mouth. I'm not kidding, I was 80% tempted to throat fuck her then and there. If that wasn't the hottest move I've seen a woman due as a precursor to food fucking, I don't know what is. I think Little Fire Hydrant may have moved a bit to the left.

We eat the chorizo/bacon/date combos slowly. They're AMAZING.

More chat, all over the place. We do cover it all: movies, dating, fucking, food, friends, animals, family, hobbies. I even told her about a real sword fight I had. Fun.


THE FUCKING
We're on our second glasses each of the wine as the foreplay comes to a close. In perfect timing, the final small plate comes with the large plate hitting our table moments later. The small plate is a hand-crafted boudin (sausage) with fava beans, parsley and onions. GOOD, but fell far short of the other plates. But then the orgasm happen, and it was mutual, and it happened over and over: pork shoulder, basted with sausage (boudin) and noodles in its own cast iron tub.

Her eyes rolled up into her head as her eyelids shut. We split it in two and it was so tender that it fell apart, but still so tender it didn't get snagged in my rough teeth. And it was GOOD sex, I tell you: wet, tender, loud, quiet. She swallowed all she could handle and still left a little bit for later.

Sadly, it was passing 10:30, more than 2 hours of fun, and she had responsibilities at home, plus work in the morning. I tabbed us out, surprised at the low 3 figure total. My car was valet parked right in front (I usually as for my car to be placed RIGHT in front, but the valet guys did anyway). The restaurant was still packed as we left, her with her doggie bag, me with a post-orgasmic look on my face.

I drove her home. We continued to chat. Fun was had by all.


THE CUDDLE
We both admitted the lack of good sex in our lives. I've had it more recently than her, but she's ready to pile-drive the next big dick that comes along her way attached to an attractive and intelligent man.

Still, I was THISCLOSE to the throatfucking after she confided in me regarding something about my blog. I'm not kidding, if I had let her out of the car, I'd have bent her over the hood of my car and had my way with her. There will be a LOT of fun-times by myself tonight thinking about THAT story that, alas, I can't share.

So there it is. It wasn't the sex YOU wanted to read about, but it was as good as it can come. And I'm looking forward to doing it again.

Maybe next time we'll hit a dive German bar, get sloppy drunk, and food fuck for 4 hours. Who knows? But I definitely am ready for round-two.

Posted by ChicagoSane at 12:18 AM

Labels: anonymous blogger, dinner, food, sex