He’s a 5 in the Streets but a 10 Between the Sheets

I was on a blind date with Sam, whom I’d met on the internet. After dinner and a beautiful NY city walk only a local could show you, we ended up in a bar. One only a local could show you. I was loving the night although I knew I wouldn’t go out with him again because he was just not my type. But we were having fun. Then in walked the French. Literally, it was a group of French boys. The cute one Raphael, flirted with me immediately and I loved it. His friend Tony kept staring at me like a lovesick freakazoid puppy. He wasn’t disgusting. He was just, well, a 5.

Here is where the details get fuzzy. I went outside with the French crew and somehow Tony the “5” ended up massaging me. Then my date Sam came outside and “caught” me. After last call we all went to the bartender’s apartment next door to hang out until the sun came up. Somehow I quickly ended up deep in conversation with Tony the “5”, who refused to buzz off. Suddenly he decided to stop playing games with me and in the middle of the conversation he just gently, firmly, confidently as if it belonged to him, bit into my nipple. Through my tube top. Wtf? I do! I did. I will. I promise.

I was shocked and speechless because we were not even talking about sex! That’s what made it extra hot. With that one move he let me know a few things:

  1. He was the man and could eat my nipple if he wanted to
  2. He was the man and could eat my nipple if he wanted to
  3. He was the man and could eat my nipple if he wanted to

Turns out he was right. And I was so glad he was. That was the beginning of the “5” twisting my back out and bending and breaking me in the most delicious, delightful and dirty ways I had never known before.

Sadly that’s all that happened that night. A few days later we went on a proper date, but the wait drove me insane. I needed frenchy to take me again, and quickly. To throw me off and make me lose my train of thought. When my best friend asked me how he looked, I stuttered a bit, my brain was screaming “he’s aaaright”, while my vagina was screaming “he’s gorgeous!”

Complete satisfaction
Complete satisfaction

We rode with urgency. As if we needed it in order to live. His instrument was average in size but he slayed me deeply with the passion of an Olympic athlete who had only one reason to live. My body. His stare was so intense and penetrating that it paralyzed me. I was already his. His touch was an order and I had to comply. With confidence out of this world, he took up the empty beer bottle and penetrated my ass while staring at me and whispering “Take it. Take it”. So… I took it.

When he tongued my holes as if that’s what he was born to do. I took it. When he rode me to screaming ecstasy and explosion, came and immediately replaced his condom to immediately continue slaying me. I took it. Le petit mord. The small death. French term for orgasm. The landlord shouted through the door that we were too loud. I didn’t care. I was face down ass up, on my knees getting amour from my “5” boyfriend. Yup. He was my boyfriend. He could have been anything he wanted to be.

Have you ever had a 5 in the streets who was a 10 between the sheets? Tell us about it!



Author: Gigi

Gigi is a financial wiz dominating the corporate world by day and a naughty girl dating in one of the world's greatest cities by night. Enjoy as she brings you along for a wild ride through the Pink Room.