No Strings Attached?
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My tale is not really about Jenny, but some of my relationship with her partly explains my feelings about my later relationship with Emma, so IÂ´ll begin with Jenny.
I worked with Jenny. Well, we were employed in the same department of the same company and had desks within a short distance of each other in the same office. But our respective roles were radically different and we never actually collaborated on any specific projects. We merely had a "nodding acquaintance" and occasional chats for most of her first months in the company. She was about a year or two younger than I was, very intelligent and articulate, attractive and always immaculately dressed. She epitomised the sophisticated businesswoman.
Our casual contact all moved up a gear on the weekend when the department went to Westport for its annual weekend out. On one of the evenings chance arranged it that I sat next to Jenny for the evening meal. I donÂ´t know what all we discussed, but Jenny was always a great conversationalist and we got so engrossed in our own little pocket of conversation that, somewhat rudely perhaps, we barely noticed the other dozen or so colleagues at our table. We discovered, among other things, that we both had a great interest in classical music but struggled to find anyone in our circle of friends to go to classical concerts with us. It was only a short step to suggest that we go to a concert or two in the forthcoming months. IÂ´m nearly sure that the suggestion was JennyÂ´s, but I was delighted with the idea and readily agreed to it.
After thinking it over for a while Jenny whispered, "It is just for the concerts, you know. Some other guys would think, when something like this is agreed,that they are 'in there', but I know that that wonÂ´t be a problem with you." I wasn't too sure what the the last part of her comment was saying about me, but I got the message that this was to be no strings attached and I was delighted about that because, while I found Jenny attractive and my marriage was already several years behind me, I hadn't ever given any though to having a relationship with her.
In due course we went to several concerts and at least one play. One of the concerts was a performance by the Ulster Orchestra of BeethovenÂ´s 5th and remains one of the best concerts I have ever attended. It is played on ring tones and suchlike so often that it has become clichÃ©d, but hearing it live for the first time, on an evening which included a delightful meal with Jenny, was one of the highlights of the year for me.
While Jenny mostly wore trouser suits at work, she always wore dresses on our evenings out and, on one occasion, even specially got her hair done for the event. On those occasions she looked stunning. I enjoyed her company and, remembering the details of the original arrangement, always behaved with decorum. Our physical contact was nothing more than a hug and a peck on the cheek when we met and parted, and occasionally Jenny linking my arm - her request - if we had some distance to walk from the cars to wherever the concert was being held.
At the height of this the company we worked for got into difficulties and we both moved to other jobs. We met at least once after that and then the contact died. I made some phone calls and sent a few emails, but no further meetings materialised.
Our no-strings arrangement was one of the most enjoyable friendships I have had. I became a huge fan of the whole concept. Now, looking back at the whole affair, and at some little comments that Jenny made at times, I wonder whether she, in spite of her original comment, did at times want more. I had taken the original agreement literally and had never wandered from it or ever given the slightest inclination that I might ever do so. The hints were too subtle at the time and I missed them.
Emma and I met on a completely no-strings-attached basis for massage. I have loved giving massage for years, and when IÂ´m not in a relationship I miss it as much as I miss the other sensual pleasures of kissing and sex. Finding Emma, with her similar enthusiasm for massage, was simply wonderful. I wasnÂ´t really looking very hard for a relationship at the time and she, effectively a widow, had absolutely no desire for a relationship. So the no-strings-attached basis suited us both well.
IÂ´d had time for reflection since I lost contact with Jenny - lots of time and lots of reflection. I had concluded that a no-strings-attached relationship can be a very fragile thing, in danger of, on the one hand, warming up and, on the other hand, cooling off. Either of these divergences would probably kill it, and finding another would not happen overnight. I was keen to keep this one, above all, from spilling over into full sex and, as I loved massage so much, full sex was something I could happily forego.
I remember our first massage well. We had already agreed that it would be fully nude and we understood that it could be quite arousing. We chatted a while and then I spread a couple of beanbags side by side on the floor and threw a cover over them. We undressed. I love undressing a woman, but this was not a situation where it was appropriate so we undressed at opposite sides of the room and tossed our clothes onto nearby chairs.
Emma looked wonderful as she crossed the room and positioned herself face down on the beanbags. She may have had a couple of extra pounds here and there, but those curves only made her all the more desirable. With an effort I reminded myself that it should not go further than massage.
I straddled Emma, careful not to let my weight press on her, and I poured some oil into my hands. I began to massage Emma's shoulders, gradually lengthening my strokes. With each of my movements my manhood trailed gently across hips. She sighed softly. After massaging her shoulders I moved down, repositioning myself to straddle her thigh, and began to massage her buttocks and legs. Emma's continued sighs, and readiness to spread her legs were great feedback. I was becoming quite aroused at this point, to the extent that some pre-cum was trickling onto the back of her leg. As I moved down further, and some of my strokes glided along Emma's inner thighs, her sighs became more audible and her breathing was interspersed with occasional gasps. Emma was very wet by this stage and, once or twice when, at the end of a stroke, I let my fingers trail across her beautiful labia, she gave a long moan. This was like music to my ears. It is so beautiful to see a woman so given over to sensual pleasure, and all the more when you're the cause of it.
It was now time to massage Emma's front, so I suggested that she turn over. She did that and lay on her back on the beanbags, leaving her legs well spread. It was an added treat to meet a woman so comfortable with her body. Emma was glowing and I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. Her pussy was beautifully aroused and seemed to be screaming "Lick me!", but I resisted manfully. I began to massage her shoulders and then let my strokes glide over her wonderful, firm breasts. Her nipples were rock hard by this time. It was pure delight for both of us. I've heard of women who can orgasm through having their breasts massaged, and have never known how true it was, but that day Emma's exstacy and abandon, as I massaged her breasts, seemed to be for all the world orgasmic to me.
A while later it was my turn. I lay face down on the beanbags where Emma had been and felt the sheer delight as her moist hands glided over my shoulders and back. And that little wet patch she left on the back of my thigh heightened the pleasure. But, while Emma gave a great massage, she was somewhat less concerned than I had been about the completeness and purpose of the massage. Every second or third stroke along my back ended with her teasing my manhood. Bliss! Here was a woman who enjoyed playing with my manhood. Here were all those little things that aren't absolutely essential for sensual enjoyment, all coming together, and Emma had me on a high. She turned me over and continued the massage, sometimes with her hands and sometimes with her beautiful breasts. She was still glowing from the massage and arousal which she had enjoyed just a short time previously, and the feeling of her warm breasts and the naked skin to skin contact had me floating on clouds. Then, pausing from the massage she straightened up and took my erect, throbbing manhood in her hand and guided it between her thighs into her soft wet mound. Surprised at this outcome, I asked if she were ok with this - not a very romantic or timely thing to do, but I felt it was the thing to say under the circumstances. She just put a finger to her lips to motion me to say no more. I said no more. I was now the one who was lost to abandon. She took me in deeper with each downward thrust, and as she rose up her beautiful labia gripped my shaft and drew all my emotion and energy to her. We fused like one body. We came and came and came... We fell into each other's arms and I kissed her gently on the lips. We lay together a while. It was a long way down from the high we'd been on.
That evening I got several texts from Emma, more than one of them asking if I enjoyed the massage. We sounded more like teenagers than adults in their late 30s.
On one phonecall before our next meeting I thought it best to reassure Emma that I was more than happy with massages and wouldn't be attempting to, well, lead the session on to something more. Emma's reply was that we'd just see what happens and not bother analysing things too much. That was fine with me, but something about it left me thinking that sex shouldn't be part of the session and wouldn't happen the next time - to the extent that I didn't bother getting condoms for the next session either.
We met again and much the same happened. Although not wanting a relationship per se, I liked Emma very much, and our massage and the sex had that added pleasure that comes with intimacy between people who like each other very much. I was also delighted that Emma enjoyed the second massage as much as the first. The first had been her first ever massage and, especially for women and when the massage is done at least moderately well by an experienced masseur, it can feel like a day trip to paradise. The second massage hasn't that element of surprise and is a better indicator of how much a woman enjoys massage. Emma loved it.
Emma then went off for three weeks sailing as part of the crew on her step-fatherÂ´s yacht, and I had holidays shortly after that, so there was a period of about six weeks when we had no contact at all. During that time I took the opportunity to go to the clinic for an STD check. I had no real concerns about having anything, but several times at the start of new relationships I had gone to the clinic to get checked out so that, if the question arose, I could offer my partner some reassurance that all was well should we become more intimate. I was concluding that sex was going to be part of my meetings with Emma, and it would be nice to give her this same reassurance, especially when we were having unprotected sex - something I've never done with any woman other than my ex-wife, as IÂ´m normally very particular about my health, and my partner's, and am generally not caught by surprise to the degree that I was on these two occasions.
We phoned a few times after our holidays. All sounded well, but our busy lifestyles at that time made it hard to find a time that suited both of us to meet up again. (My job at that time frequently took me abroad.) In the end it didn't happen. After six months and some soul searching, I emailed Emma again and offered apologies if I had done anything which didn't correspond with her views and wishes for our meetings. I got a most reassuring email in return, with the additional explaination that she currently waiting to go in for a small operation and needed to take life quietly for a while. I left things for a about a week and then wrote to ask solely of her health. Irrelevant of massage and sex, I was interested in her welfare and wanted to offer support if I could. I didn't state it like that in the email; I simply asked how she was keeping. There was no further reply.
I missed Emma a lot - more than many relationships with girlfriends which had probably run their course when they ended. We had met for a meal before the first massage and, both then and each time we met, we had chatted so openly and enthusiastically about everything that we seemed to enjoy each other's company very much.
I was left with a lot of time for reflection. This time there were numerous candidate reasons for whatever went wrong and IÂ´m not at all sure which one, or combination of them, were the decisive factors. But one that I wonder again and again about is whether people embarking on their first no-strings-attached relationship fully realise what all that means. And, moreso, after being in such a relationship for a while do they sometimes grow to wish it wasn't a no-strings-attached arrangement.
Or, perhaps, the answer lies with me, in not understanding that a no-strings-attached relationship means that any party can end the contact at any time without giving any explanation. It wouldn't be my way of doing things, but IÂ´m coming to realise that a no-strings-attached relationship maybe shouldn't even have the string of expecting an explanation when the relationship ends.