How to seduce a Nice Guy.

Today, whilst talking to a few friends, they mentioned a mutual friend of ours who had been lamenting her lack of boyfriend during her high school years, or rather, her lack of obviously interested men. A male friend had turned around and said, "I can think of at least five guys who wanted you as their girlfriend at the time!"

This sparked a conversation about how the very attractive breed of woman rarely gets hit on, for fear of rejection, and it's in fact girls with a low self-esteem who get propositioned all the time. Not really a new concept, but when a similar thing came up in Todger Talk, I felt compelled to share one such experience of my own.

I met Derek a bit over a year ago, and quite by accident. I had wandered into a social gathering where a few of my more vague acquaintances happened to be. I found myself sitting next to Derek, and deciding that, given the opportunity, I'd fuck him. As the evening wore on, this escalated to me deciding to create such an opportunity.

The thing was, it was surprisingly difficult to gauge whether he reciprocated my attraction. Over a few weeks, I'd occasionally run into him, and while I generally got the feeling that he was interested, he seemed to actively avoid touching me, and move away when I tried to casually and flirtaciously touch him. Odd, I thought, but the signs were just encouraging enough for me not to be deterred. When he invited me to a party he was hosting, I considered this my opportunity to properly seduce him. It was all a fairly sedate affair, though it lasted deep into the night. I had craftily maneuvred it so that we'd be sitting on the same couch, and curled up in a way that made it impossible not to be in some sort of physical contact with him.

Eventually, the rest of the people present either left, or found somewhere to crash, leaving us alone in the living room. We tried to crash too, me on the couch, him in a recliner, but we ended up talking sleepily instead, wrapped in our blankets as we were. Before long, dawn was approaching, so we hauled ourselves and our blankets out onto the patio, figuring we might as well watch the sun rise. We sat down in the deck chairs, him still seeming to avoid physical contact a little. I can't remember how I ended up with his feet in my lap, but I guess he must have finally decided it was safe. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, first resting my hand on his bare ankle, then stroking his leg a little with my thumb, which slowly led to our fingers intertwining, and me moving closer to him.

Everything up to that point had been that tentative mating dance. Always testing the waters, venturing further ever so slowly. But once we kissed, that changed. I found myself suddenly yanked out of my deck chair, and pulled into his lap, where frenzied kisses were quickly followed by him fondling my breasts, and then lifting my shirt to lick my nipples. Surprised? I certainly was, considering it had taken four weeks for us to even touch for longer than ten seconds.

Still, I didn't feel like having my breasts exposed for all to see, so after enjoying my initial taste of is affections (no pun intended), I pulled my shirt back down. After all, the windows of the house were large, and if anyone who happened to get up cared to look, they would have found my breasts on proud display. A thing I'd rather avoid, as this was a crowd I didn't consider deserving of that privilege. So we settled for some talking, with the occasional kiss, until our fellow partygoers eventually got up and filed out. One of them had claimed Derek's bed for the night, so when she left, we made sure to claim it back. It kind of impresses me that despite our sleep deprivation, things still got quite heated. We were naked within moments, with him going down on me with great gusto, and taking my advice on the fine art of Getting Queenie Off, so that I came pretty quickly. Due to my being fluid bonded to my beloved, I couldn't return the favour, and the lack of condoms that we trusted (we both had one which was too old for comfort), we couldn't fuck, so I was left with the hand job. The objective was reached, and we fell into an exhausted sleep shortly afterwards, but it still bothered me a little. I was glad that on our next encounter, I could rectify the discrepancy somewhat with my pussy.

In any case, my point is, it took quite a bit of effort on my part to get into his pants. And the impression I got was that he refused to believed that I actually was attracted to him. I practically had to slither into his lap before he believed it! So it makes me wonder just how much the Nice Guys are getting discouraged, to the point of becoming rather difficult to bed. But they are well worth it, trust me.