I have happy dreams.

I looked up into the bleachers and saw him there, sitting patiently in the cool autumn weather waiting for me to hit the stage.  I was terrified and nervous.  My fellow talent show participant had rubbed my shoulders moments before and asked me what I was so afraid of.  I’d told her, “Well, this is pretty much my worst nightmare: performing a song whose words I don’t and a dance routine whose steps I also don’t know.”  I shrugged it off as I looked at him smiling back at me.  He was there with me.

I stretched out under fluffy covers and turned my head.  My eyes blinked open and he laid there on his side facing me.  “I just had a nice dream about you,” I said quietly, testing to see if he was awake.  He didn’t move.

I fluffed my pillow and sunk my head back into it, wondered if it was the one he’d “dedicated” to me all those long months ago during that magically hopeful day, and drifted off back to sleep, a smile on my face.

I’d come over the night before at 2 am after a long, cold night with friends huddled around a bonfire and a mass of goddamned hipsters with the sole intent to cuddle.

I pulled my hat down around my ears and tied my coat as I trudged up the stairs in the blistering cold.  I unlocked my door, but turned to knock on his.  He opened it smiling and pulled me inside.

I shook with a chill and he took my purse and phone and keys and set them on the coffee table.  He peeled off my jacket and hat.  As he slipped off my cardigan I noticed the house was spotless, candlelit and filled with spicy incense.  “Come on, you,” he said as he took my hand and led me to his bedroom.

Gone were the piles of clothes and tissues I’d noticed earlier in the day, the random chair.  Warm light flooded the space and his bed was turned down.  He swept his arm out in invitation before pushing me down on the bed and removing my boots, socks, and tights.  Still in my dress, I crawled under the covers and he quickly disrobed and joined me.

Nestled in his arms we talked about our nights and he pet my hair as I splayed my fingers through the pelt on his chest.  I removed the rest of my clothes and pressed my swells against his side, he trapped my icy feet between his warm thighs.

As I dozed off he excused himself to go play on his computer, said he might go to a coffee shop.  he was wide awake.  I drowsily wondered if he’d want me to leave, but fell asleep before I could do anything about it.  Some time later I felt him return to me and snuggle close.

When I awoke again later in the morning, we were facing each other again.  I closed my eyes and felt his hand reach for mine and place it on his erection.  It was hot and stiff.  We giggled conspiratorially as he coached me on the perfect handjob.  Soon, I gave up and fell on hit with my face.  Fuck that shit; it takes too long.

I lapped and slobbered and gripped and sucked until a distant pounding at the back of my skull forced me to stop.  “I think I have a hangover, TN.  I have to stop.  I’m so sorry.”  I’ve never stopped a blowjob before.

“It’s ok.  I have a plan B,” he said as he sat up and pushed me down.  He reared up between my legs and slid deep inside of me in one long thrust.  He stared into my eyes as I groaned and I peeked back up through my lashes.  “You like that??” he asked.

“Uh huh,” I moaned back.

We bucked and slammed into each other until my pussy squelched and I cried out for fear of death by pleasure.  I gripped the headboard and pushed with all my might against him.  His flanks pounded into me as my hands ran up his chest and across his shoulders.

He leaned back and swung my legs up together in front of me.  He rode me hard and swung his heavy hand on the softer undersides of my thighs.  With each thwack I cringed and almost screamed.  Pound, pound, pound.  Slap, slap, slap.

I could see him gazing at me through the gaps in my legs, helpless to move, dependent on him completely for my release and my salvation.  Warm climaxes washed over me and I sobbed dryly as he collapsed exhausted on top of me.

“I’m sorry I had to stop blowing you,” I said again, knowing he wasn’t really disappointed.

“I don’t care.  I love fucking you,” he replied.

We lay tangled in each other’s arms with blankets and sheets awry for a while longer until he suggested breakfast.  I wearily gathered my things and only just barely covered my nudity before jumping across to my doormat and my unlocked door.  I’d had a feeling I wouldn’t want to be fumbling with keys when I finally left his apartment.  I’m glad I’d thought ahead.

I bruised my hand from spanking.

Wine glass in hand I lay on Tina’s bed.  She was touching up the paint on her toes and we were talking life, love, and threesomes.  My phone chimed.

“It’s The Neighbor, isn’t it?”

I picked it up.  “Yep,” I said smiling.  It was his cock.

He knew I was over there.  I’d asked him to send me a cock pic earlier and he’d asked for a minute or two to clean up from the gym.  I’d told him, “Good boy,” and sent him a picture of my cleavage with Tina’s cool hand in the cleft.

“Jesus Christ,” he’d texted.  “I appreciate you so much.  I’ll be home in a few minutes, unless I crash while looking at that picture in which case I will die smiling.”

TN has been body-snatched, y’all.

“I’ll be home soon,” I’d replied.  “Leave your door unlocked.  What a sweet boy.”

Fifteen minutes later he sent the perfect Bat Signal: the image of him buck-ass naked holding his giant erection.

My response was immediate to him.  “Wow. Got the pic.  Leaving this second.”  I turned to Tina.  “I gotta go,” I told her laughing.

“Yeah, you do. Damn, that guy has it bad for you.  What the hell did he say to you just now?”

Nothing,” I smirked.

He answered the door glowing white and naked and let me in.  I walked back to his bed and sat down, but he begged me to get up.  He still hasn’t been able to stabilize it since we broke it last week.  “Just go next door.  I’ll be right there.  I promise.”

I complied and no sooner had I hung up my purse and things than he walked through the door, sadly clothed.  We sat on the couch and found each other with our mouths.  My hands ran up his shorts and found his arousal.  I peeled off my sweater and glowed under his appraising eyes.  I have never felt more beautiful with this man than I have in the past 48 hours.

I sucked and kneaded and kissed and nibbled.  He sucked and kneaded and kissed and nibbled.  “Lets go in your room,” he said.

He unzipped my boots with his teeth and tossed them on the floor with a laugh.  I was in black lace panties and knee-high socks with white stripes at the top.  “Jesus Christ, you’re hot,” he moaned and fell on top of me, crushed me with his mouth and muscles and warm, creamy skin.

“I want to turn your lily-white ass red,” I moaned back.

He stopped short then kept kissing me, dipping into my mouth and looking into my eyes.  I stared back at him, bold and unafraid of my own passion.  “Yes.  Get on your belly.”

He rolled off of me and lay quietly below me.  I spread his knees and positioned myself between them and struck his right buttock.  Hard. “What do you want to tell me if you’ve had enough?” I asked him, too shy to say “safeword.”

“You mean a safeword??”

“Yes.  I’m going to hurt you, but I’m no sadist.  You have all the control here.  What’s your word?”

“Kiwi.”

“Good.  Thank you,” I said and cracked my hand down on his right flank.  I struck and wailed and rained my hand down upon him.  He writhed and tried to crawl away from me.  I wrapped my arm beneath his hips and pulled him back to me.  Asked him if I ever tried to get away from him?

I pressed my thighs into his and kissed his inflamed skin, crooned to him, told him he was a good boy.  I told him how hot he was.

He whimpered and tried to curl up with each blow, but it took no effort for me to pull him closer back to me, to my warmth and love.

I concentrated on one space of his canvas only occasionally breaking to the left.  My hand stung and my pussy dripped.  I felt time freeze and my heart swell outside of my body.  I could see every hair on his body and smell his pleasure and his fear and his contentment like fresh-baked cookies.

I paused as he laughed and cried into the mattress.  I felt a strange kind of remorse for what I’d done, but also a sick sense of pride.  I needed to care of him.  “I’ll be right back,” I told him.  “Don’t move, honey.”

I ran and grabbed an ice-cube and returned to the glowing ember of his ass.  He started when I put the cool rock on his skin, but relaxed as it slid beneath my palm.   As the water ran down his hips and between his buttocks I caressed the heat and pressed my lips to him.

“Is that better?” I whispered against his bottom and kissed it tenderly.

“Yes,” he answered and then my hand cracked down on the wet spot.

I fondled his soft cock and gently tugged on his balls as I brought the heat back to his backside, then slid my hand to his crack and pressed at the little starfish in the center.  He tried to retreat.  “I won’t hurt you.  It’s ok.”

“But what if I’m dirty?”  he worried.

“You’re not dirty.  Your ass is beautiful and I want it.  Come here,” and I pulled him back to me and spread his knees further.  “Arch your back,” I said softly.  He arched and I pressed just one slender finger inside of him.  He was so tight I felt my own center quicken.  Oh, how I wished I had a cock to slip deep inside of him, all the way to my hips, to feel him tight around me and writhing.   Men are so lucky.

I felt for the invisible scar on his lower back with my free hand and kissed its raised skin, wishing all the reasons it was there never existed.  My poor friend.  He never deserved any of that.  My breasts pressed into his soft ass.

I barely wiggled around inside of him, only one knuckle, and continued to spank him.  I was afraid of going too far with my fragile new toy; my finger one little thread holding the beautiful puppet before me.

“I want to leave a mark on you, like you do me.” I told him.

“Do it,” he agreed.  “Let’s see how you’re doing so far.”  I let him get up and he swung his bottom into the light of the bathroom.  There were broken capillaries, but no deep, blooming welts like he leaves on me.  With a quick hand I struck him again.  He winced, but remained still.

My hand stung and throbbed and I suddenly knew we were done.  I couldn’t think straight, my memory of minutes before was blurry.  I’m not even sure I have the lead up to this right.  I could be writing complete fiction.

I next remember laying with him and him asking me, “When did this happen, Hy?  I didn’t know you had this in you.”

I thought for a second.  “It’s always been there, but this trust you give me, it sets it free.  It’s so hot, so beautiful.  It turns me on so much. You have no idea.  Do you like it??”  Suddenly I was unsure, worried I’d hurt him, terrified him.

“Yes,” he answered.  Maybe he said he loved it or thought it was fucking hot.  Again, I can’t remember, my brain was scrambled and I still can’t sort it all out.

He stroked me, kissed me, touched me, dipped his fingers inside and exclaimed at my wetness.  He started to slam his hand inside of me and a climax came up and washed over me and right out my pulsing hole, a river of emotion and arousal bounding down a mountainside of flesh.

Then he pulled me into his arms and held me and kissed me tenderly.  “Do you ever have to think about it when you spank me?” I asked him.  “Does it come naturally to you?  You’re not just doing that for my sake, are you?”

“No, not at all.  I love it.  It just happens to me, too.”

He rolled into me and spooned me warmly, wrapped his arm around me and squeezed and kissed my neck.  I began to talk gibberish and found myself awakening in mid-sentence as I struggled to maintain consciousness.  He giggled at me and I flushed at my own vulnerability — the only thing worse would be to be caught drooling in my sleep.

He rose then and tucked me in.  I muttered something — incoherent, perhaps — and I’d like to think he kissed me somewhere before leaving saying he’d lock the door behind him, but I don’t remember.  I was already fast asleep, my hand scalded and bruised from abuse.

photo(4)
I will never shake hands cavalierly again.

 

 

I need to be preferred.

My heart thudded in my ribcage, my breath caught in my throat.  It was dark in my room and only the sweet-smelling candle gave light.  What had happened?  Why was I awake?

My pulse loud in my ears I stood up and walked to the front door.  Though I hadn’t heard anything, it was the only explanation.  He had knocked.

I opened the door and a gust of wind blew by me.  I caught his heels running into the mouth of his cave.  My sleep-fogged mind scratched its head.  He quickly returned before I could even think to shut the door.

“Here,” he said and handed me a prescription bottle.  I was still confused and just looked at him standing there braless in a white v-neck and black lace panties.  “For your pain.  You asked me earlier?”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled.  “Come in.”

He followed me through the dark and winking apartment.  Christmas tree lights illuminating my questionable decisions as usual.  “Lay down,” I said simply and he went to his side of the bed and climbed in.

I flopped down beside him still disoriented, my heart still not back to its usual 60.  He patted me and rubbed me.  We haven’t seen each other like this in days.  I felt like I’d been missing him.  Maybe he felt similarly because his warm hands didn’t leave my body.

“Mmm.  See-through panties!” he exclaimed.  I rolled over and showed him my round bottom.  He spanked me and I rolled back on my belly and giggled sleepily.  His hand crept to the cleft of my legs and I lifted my hips.  His fingertips began a slow circle over my lace-trapped clit.

A small ball of heat appeared in my center and I gently lowered and lifted my hips.  My back pain completely forgotten amidst my purrs of contentment.

His hand left me and pushed on my hip.  I rolled onto my back and he returned to me.  My lashes fluttered and I could see him staring at me, his head held in one hand while his other pushed me into the brightness of arousal.  I looked at him as I could, but his gaze, so lustful, so him pushed me back below my eyelids.  I concentrated on the sensations between my legs and in my gut.

He stopped and I realized I was panting lightly.  “Did you like that?” he asked rhetorically.

“Yes.  Yes I did.”  My hand ran along his torso, his clothing suddenly an offense I couldn’t bear.  “Take off your clothes.”

He played coy for a second and I repeated myself.  He removed his shirt and ran my hand over his muscular abs covered in his light furry hair.  “I feel them.  I always feel them,” I crooned as I kissed each little pack.  “Now take these off,” and I tugged on his shorts.  “I said all of it.”

He peeled them down and I curled up on my knees, perpendicular to him and fell on his shaft with my mouth.  He was huge and hard.  His hand came down on my flank 1, 2, 6 times.  Each smack I winced and whimpered, but didn’t hurt his tender member gingerly captured in my mouth.

“Get on your back,” he ordered.

I didn’t move.  “No.  I’m going to suck you.”

Then he hit me on the lace.  I grinned around his glorious cock.  “I said, ‘Get on your back’!” he said more forcefully.

I sucked harder and I heard him moan and he leapt in my hand.  He was close.  I was thinking about his jizz drenching my mouth, lips and throat when I felt another sting.  “NOW, goddamnit,” he said through gritted teeth while pushing me off of him.  I went to dive back down and he grabbed me by the shoulders and pinned me down, spread my knees, and slid into me.

A tumble and a wrestle, a small battle of wills where I felt us slip into our rightful, comfortable places with the sounds of a sloppy wet pussy.  *click*

He drove into me slowly and bumped into my cervix.  I winced and curled my hands around the bars of my headboard, tilted just so so he could get past it.  He went slow, feeling my heat wrap around him with each long, unendurable thrust.

I began to whimper as my arousal spread across my chest and tendrils wrapped their way around my hips and pelvis.  My cervix lifted like a good girl and he began to slam into me; I no longer had to tilt.

His beautiful face looked down at me, a slight curve of a smile on his lips.  Everything I’d thought of the past few days were bubbles popping one by one overhead.  Yes, I love him.  Yes, this is complicated.  Yes, he cares about me.  Yes, it’d be nice to have more.  Yes, I’m ok with what this is.  Yes, I feel special.  Yes, I don’t give a fuck about any other woman.  Yes, I feel unendangered in his life.  Yes, he wants me.

I wrapped my legs around his pumping hips and locked my ankles and drew him in closer, harder, deeper.  My pussy’s squelching and the bed’s disgruntled squeaks joined my moans and helpless cries and The Neighbor’s pants.  A symphony of passion.

He sat up and rested on his haunches and I pushed my bottom up onto the tops of his thighs and wrapped my legs tighter around him, my arms overhead pushing me further down his rod.  He chuckled and then fell forward and wrapped his arms around me, kissed my neck and began to move again.

He sat back up and put my ankles together over my face.  I began to sob and cover my face.  The intensity of pleasure centered around my cunt more than I could bear.  I began to gush, my hot juices running down the crack of my bottom and pooling beneath me.  He slammed into me harder then gently left me.

“Stand up on and lean over the bed,” he said.  I pushed myself up on trembling arms and wiggled off the bed.  He handed me my vibe and entered me from behind.

I collapsed on the mattress and held the vibrating head to the bulkhead of my desire.  I began to shake and tremble.  He twisted this way and that inside of me.  It was too much for me to cum; I was overloaded.

He gently lifted me up on to the bed and hooked his fingers inside of me as I replaced the Hitachi on my mound.  He was gentle knowing that if he was too forceful I would gush and be done too soon.

Slow and rhythmic he pet me.  My mind’s eye saw him glowing in candlelight, looking down at me affectionately, attentively and the swirling, curling mass of pleasure released the waters of my sex and the pool beneath me spread like a dead man’s blood.  I came hard and deep and cried and bucked.  He gently hung onto me and when I was done he climbed over me and laid down.

I sobbed and laughed for ten minutes.  “What’s the square root of 49?” he asked me.  I couldn’t remember.

We laughed and slowly pet me as I curled up into his arms and waited to return to myself.  His penis was chubby, but done.  I was disappointed that I couldn’t get him to cum, but he was busy telling me how awesome that had been for me to worry about it all that much and I let it go as I would a leaf in the wind.

Monday night when I’d told him Jack and Emma were definitely coming over this weekend he was excited; his face lit up and he bounced in his seat a little.  “I won’t cum until they’re here, or with just you!” he’d promised.  I’d only smiled and beamed inside at his acceptance of this new and strange thing entering his life and at the prospect of lots of his cum.

Laying in his arms last night I decided to broach one of the things on my mind.  “So, I want to talk about this group sex stuff.  I’m going to need different things from you.  It’s just how I am.  I know what I need based on my experiences with Troy.”  He nodded and urged me to continue.  “Like, for example, I’m going to need to hold your hand at that party.  And I’m going to need to feel like you think I’m the most beautiful woman there.  That you prefer me.”

“I know, Hy,” he said gently.  “You’ve mentioned this before.” I cringed under my own absent-mindedness and continued to play with the languid meat between his legs.  “Don’t worry, I understand completely.”

I sunk deeper into the mattress and splayed my fingers through his chest hair.  “What are you worried about with all of this?  How are you feeling about Jack and Emma coming over?  Jack wants to do a ‘Sunday brunch with champagne, croissants, and lechery’.”

“I’m worried that I’m going to freak out and shut down.  Or that I won’t be able to get hard.  I’m pretty sure I’ll be ok, but I’m just not sure.”

“Well, what do you want to do with them?  I’m not even clear on what I want to do other than have them watch us.  Jack has Emma on a ‘no-refusal’ weekend as her Dom.  And don’t forget, if you start to freak out, I’m there with you.  You’re not alone.”  He nodded his understanding.

“Do you want to fuck Jack??”

“Not particularly.  I’ve never been attracted to him, but he’s a wonderful playmate and a sweet guy and he’s hung like a mule.  I trust him, but no, I’d never feel like I had to fuck him.  If you told me to fuck him while I sucked you, however… that’s hot and I’d do that.”

His face split into a huge grin and he stroked his chin like an evil genius.  “Hmm,” he said, “That would be hot.  What if we both fucked you together?  How would Emma feel?”

“Emma is his sub.  She’ll do anything he wants.  He absolutely adores her, cherishes her.  They have a wonderful bond and therefore she’s never jealous.”

We talked some more about the intricacies of group sex, how much I loved it and I could sense his exploration in his thoughtful questions.  He was poking places in his psyche he’s never bothered with before.

He got up to dress and had a hell of a time finding his clothes trapped in my twisted bedding.  I laughed and stretched out to turn on the light.  “Wow, Hy.  You look really beautiful right now,” he said suddenly as his eyes rested on my body.  “Your just-fucked hair, red cheeks, the spank marks.”

“Well, thanks, TN.”

He found his clothes and slipped them on and came around and captured a nipple in his mouth.  He stood and began to walk away.  “Wait.  Come kiss me.”  He drew closer and I pulled him down to me and he crushed my mouth with his.  He pulled away and I looked him in the eyes.  “I’m not some pussy-hole, you know.  You kiss me.  Sometimes I think you freak out when you think we’re getting too close.”

“I don’t ‘freak out,’ I just pull away.  We’ll talk later.”

He began to say something, then dropped it and returned his mouth to mine, deep and passionate.  I rose and walked him naked to the front door and said goodnight smiling sweet smiles.

He invited me to a potluck.

“You home?” he texted. “I just knocked and no one answered.”

“No,” I replied. “I was, but then I left to get baby-blocking pills. Home in 15.”

When I climbed the stairs with my new suitcase I fumbled with my keys and the kitchen mats under my arm my mother had bought me. His door opened. He looked handsome and sweet in his basketball shorts and shirtlessness.

“Hi!” I said beaming. He beamed back. “Were you waiting for me?? What are you doing?”

“Yes. I had my eye on the peephole for 20 minutes waiting for you!”

“Ok, come on in,” I said swinging the door open.

We walked in and I futzed around chattering about nothing as I put my things down. Arms free I opened them and walked towards him. I’d decided to hug him as I would any friend after a time apart. He walked into my hug and held me tight. “You did it!” I said squeezing him. I felt his arms tighten around me and his head bury into my neck.

“I did!” he mumbled into my skin.

I stepped back and rubbed his arms and walked away and went about tidying up my apartment.

“I want to lie down in your bed,” he announced.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

I joined him and flopped my suitcase on the bed. “Are you packing??” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t. Come talk to me!”

I put my chore aside and cleared a space for me to lay next to him. He wanted to know all about my days away from him, every little thing I did. I went through each day, laughing as I set milestones around the pics I’d sent him. He touched my leg, my arm. I leaned between his.

“C’mere,” he beckoned. “Lie down.” I did.

His hands found my skin as we continued to talk. I reached back to adjust my panties and pulled a rip in the lace. “Goddamnit,” I complained, “I just tore my panties! I made a hole!”

“Lemme see,” he said leaning over me. “What about this hole?” he asked with a dirty smirk and a grab for my pussy. He made hard, circular motions on my clit over my panties.

“Well, there’s a hole in there, too,” I teased.

His hand worked magic. I had trouble finishing my weekend story. When I was done he pulled my panties down and pooled his shorts on the floor, spread my knees and positioned himself over me.

“Ok, tell me about your weekend,” I said as he dipped his fingers inside of me.

“When my parents met me at the airport,” he began, “the car was packed and my brother was in there.” He removed his hand from me and gripped his cock instead and aimed it at my wetness. “We went immediately to the cabin,” he said as he slid inside of me.

I struggled to concentrate as he slowly, gently fucked me. His words never wavered as he pumped against me. I gripped the metal swirls of my headboard and did my best to listen.

He spoke of history tours and museums, “That’s when I bought you your souvenir — I’ll have to bring that over later,” he said to himself as he continued to thrust. His face was placid, his hips were rabid. I was a laughing, titillated mess.

His story finally over we forgot to talk anymore. He pounded into me and my pussy squelched around us. I kissed his neck, grazed my teeth against his jaw and kissed his ear. He buried his face in my neck and hair and kissed me, sucked on my breast and pistoned away like a mechanical pony.

I tossed my head back and forth and watched him through my lashes. His eyes never left my face.

He stood up and pulled out, exhausted. “I need a break for a second,” he panted and offered me his cock. I took him in my mouth, my pussy a light, fragrant bouquet in my nostrils.

“Mmm, I taste good,” I mumbled around his meat. “You should try this for yourself some time.”

I continued to slurp and suck and grip until he gently pushed me back and told me to scoot over. He spread my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed and kneeled down. His mouth descended on me with gentle pressure. I told him to use his fingers to stretch my hole and he obediently followed directions.

I panted and writhed under his ministrations. My hands tingled, I saw stars. I needed a break and begged him to stop. He lifted his head and climbed up on top of me. I pulled his face down to mine and kissed me off of him like a layer of frosting.

He fingered me, he fucked me, he sucked me, he loved me, he hit me, he watched me. I fucked him back, bucked on him, loved him, watched him back.

Standing on the floor, my bottom hanging off the edge, he parted my legs like the sea and watched my tits bounce and flounce to the rhythm of his cock. His face beautiful in the soft light of my room, his shoulders broad and arms flexed.

He reached behind him and handed me my vibrator. I came hard and loud around him. I quivered and cried as he told me I was hot and beautiful, how good it felt. He handed it to me again and another orgasm screamed through me.

He pulled out and pulled me with him as I sobbed alone. “Hy, it’s ok. Come here,” he crooned and opened his arms. I moved into the crook of his arms and cried into the fur of his chest. His fingers traced the lines of my back as I tried to gather myself.

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked.

“For what??”

“For making your erection go away.” He’d gone soft during my second orgasm.

“Aw, it’s ok. It’s tired, don’t worry.” I still felt bad. Then again, he is only human and an hour of vigorous, hard fucking can undo any man.

We lay tangled together for a while until I got antsy. This is when he usually leaves. I felt it. But I was wrong.

I got up and handed him his glass of wine. He made no move to leave. Instead we lay in bed and I asked more questions about his weekend. He was happy to be home, back where he belonged, he said. “That reminds me, lemme go get your gift.”

He slipped out and was back in a minute. “Have you heard back from Jack and Emma, yet?”

Last night I’d received an email on Adult Friend Finder inviting me to a sex party in another city in November and December. I’d mentioned it to The Neighbor and he was interested. I’d immediately texted my friend and ex-lover Jack to ask what he knew about it. TN wanted to know if Jack and Emma would be willing to help him feel comfortable being watched while having sex. “I’ve only ever been watched once, and that was with Marian. I’m nervous,” he’d told me.

“No, not yet. Lemme check.” I tick-tacked away on the laptop as he pulled out a slim white, rectangular package for me. I stopped typing and looked at it. It was a beautiful metal bookmark.

“Oh, TN. Thank you! It’s beautiful!” I felt awkward and flattered in equal measures, the hot laptop warmed my naked belly ignorant of my emotions. The price tag was still visible: $18.

This gesture, this nice, non-keyring-with-flashing-first-name gift, floored me. It was kind, it was sweet, it was thoughtful. It wasn’t him. But, I guess it was.

I opened it and read the inscription on the packaging as he told me more about the artist. “He wanted to incorporate nature into all his designs and felt that art and the world should coincide as one, not compete.”

I put it down and searched my email for any response from Jack and Emma. There was none.

“Are you really serious about this sex party?” I asked.

“I am. I’m really interested.”

We’d go the end of December. After our 5k in early December. After a night spent shrooming together with Downstairs Neighbor. After plans of spending Thanksgiving together.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” he started to ask me as I folded the computer shut. “Oh fuck, you’re in San Fran, aren’t you? Fuck. I was going to ask you to go to a potluck with me. Oh well, you can be there in spirit because I need you to tell me what to cook and how to do it. I need an Italian themed salad.”

I laughed lightly and gave him a recipe for something decidedly not a salad; a tomato, garlic and basil concoction that melts in your mouth and makes bread the vehicle to heaven.

Eventually, the clock, though still early, crowded in on me. I stood and dressed in a t-shirt and pj shorts and went to light some firewood. He followed. He nibbled on Peyton’s Halloween candy and we talked about my trip tomorrow — both my nerves and the pedantic what’s and whens — as I sat in front of the fire.

He intermittently sucked on my nipples and I seductively played with myself between my words of cooking wisdom for his potluck. It felt stupidly normal, stupidly awesome.

“I am so happy to be back he said,” lying on the floor and tossing a softball in the air. “Being back makes me realize all that I have here.” I looked up from my recipe notes and bounded over to him and playfully flung myself down on him, pinning him down.

My free-spirit burst at the seams as I playfully humped him and he wrapped his arms around me and giggled at my antics. I kissed his cheeks and hopped up off of him as quickly as I’d descended and returned to my spot on the couch to finish his cooking instructions. It was as honest a reflection of my feelings as I could possibly muster.

I studied my note and gathered myself back up.

“I’m getting antsy,” he gently warned. “I need to go home soon.”

“I know, I’m hurrying,” I answered with a smile.

I finished my recipe and handed it to him. He bent down and kissed each breast in turn and then me. I walked him to the door and I confirmed that he’d be up 6:10 am so we could leave by 6:20.

“G’night, Hy,” he smiled over his shoulder.

“G’night, TN,” I said back and shut the door. His words of wonder at what he would do for the next 7 days rang in my ears, his words of longing for my pussy, his words of praise. They all enclosed around me like a giant hug and have moved with me from room to room.

“I had to tell the sex party people that you’re my boyfriend. I hope that’s ok,” I’d said worried.

“No, it’s ok with me,” he’d answered.

Has something happened? Has something changed? Is there a happy ending to this??

Interlaced with these frilly sentiments are jack hammer reminders of old words, cruel and dirty. I haven’t forgotten a thing, but goddamn does it feel good to try to forget.

 

 

Even I can’t stop the seasons.

Love and interest are fickle friends.  For months I was moon-eyed over my young lover.  I noticed when his car was home, if his lights were on.  I held my breath when his door slammed shut — would my door rattle from his knuckles 2 seconds later??  Seeing his boyish face made my day, hearing his deep, news-broadcaster voice tickled me, and seeing his fit, hair-dusted body made me want to unwrap him like a Christmas present and pounce.

But something has changed.

It is the autumn of my affair with The Neighbor.  Spring brought passion and bursts of colors; highs were the only notes on the breeze.  Summer was long and arduous — I barely survived the heat of my own emotions, his refusal of me, and our irrefutable chemistry.  Today, it is fall.  The leaves of my love are turning and will soon waft to the ground like so many dizzying streaks of gold.  When winter comes, the blanket of cold will insulate me as I rejuvenate away from him and our strange, misshapen relationship.

I don’t know when or how it happened, but it did.  His glorious, meaty cock still haunts me and I admit to lusting after it, but my conquering of it is no longer tied to my heart.  If I get to wrap my fingers around hot pinkness, then so be it.  If not, oh well.  I will live without sex.  A piece of Hy dies as I write that.

Saturday night was a dazzling night in our hobbled relationship.  As asked, I woke him up in time to get ready.  It wasn’t my fault that calling his name and gently shaking him didn’t work and my only option was to slip my hand beneath his puffy white comforter and find his sleeping manhood with my hand.  What else should I have done?  Honestly.

I stroked him slowly while I watched his face, his eyes covered in the black mask that had come with his bondage kit.  His breathing was even and ignorant of my presence.  I increased the pressure of my hand and he jerked awake.

“What the hell??”

“Wake up, TN,” I said smiling.

He pulled the mask off and looked at me bleary-eyed.  He rolled onto his back so I could get full access to his erection.

“Can you wake me up like this every day?”

“You say that nearly every day.”

“Well, I mean it.”

I ignored him and continued my ministrations.

It wasn’t long before I swung a boot clad leg over his waist and slowly slid down on him, my skirt hiked up to my waist and my ridiculously tacky sequined wolf shirt sparkling in the candlelight.  His cock hit me in my throat and I flushed with warmth as I rocked on him.  He gripped my waist and I increased my tempo.  Tremors skittered across my skin as a climax snaked its way through me.

He reached for my breasts, but pulled his hands back with a laugh when he got nothing but sequins.  I laughed, too, and bent over and kissed him just as I released around us both.  “I guess I’ll have to take a shower now before the party,” he murmured into my mouth.

“I guess so.”

At the party he was attentive and hovering.  He encouraged me to eat off his appetizer plate, refilled my glass, and was sure to be shoulder to shoulder with me whenever another man came within my orbit.  I was amused and smiled to myself.  Silly Neighbor, I thought, tricks are for kids.

Our chemistry ultimately belied our ruse of easy, close friendship when an old friend of mine cornered him and asked if he and I had ever dated.  His “No comment,” clearly an admission of guilt, her smile of satisfaction an admission of her pride of sniffing us out.

Our dance continues, but the song is ending.  How many loving, connected conversations can we have?  How many tiffs easily repaired?  How many mind-blowing sexual encounters?  How many tears, hugs, kisses, games, and parries before we admit it will never be more than this?

He thinks we will be friends in 10 years.  He thinks we’ll be close friends in 10 years.  How do I tell him that it might not happen?  That I see no such future between us?  That things are winding down?

He came over last night because he was sad.  I rubbed his chest, made him laugh, and finally slipped my hand into his shorts to grip his pretty, pretty penis and rub it to a big, full handful.  He flipped me on my back and filled me to the brim.  The lights were on and I struggled under his steady, smirking gaze as I slowly, embarrassingly lost my shit beneath him.

I drenched my bed and us, climaxed and orgasmed around him, heaved and sobbed little dry sobs and then we talked some more.  He was back to being sad and anxious about an upcoming trip home.  I told him he’d do great, that he had this.  He’d be back before he knew it.  He lazily traced lines on my arm with the pads of his fingertips.  It was close to 2 am and my yawns came more frequently.

We joked about the sexy pics we’d exchanged lately.  The one of him with his fat cock hanging out of his jeans and poking up past his t-shirt-covered belly button and the one where I’m stretched out on my side pulling down my pj shorts.  I wanted him to make that his phone wallpaper and vice versa.  I’m going to stump for it.

Good morning.

“What do you do with the pics I’ve sent you?” I wondered.

“I keep them all.  They’re on my phone,” he paused for a beat then said, “And I appreciate every single one of them.  Very, very much.”

Words like those from him are like cool drafts of water on my parched throat.  “Well, I’m glad.”

More yawning.  More snuggling.  More laughing.

Then he realized the time and dressed.  I called him over to me before he left, “C’mere.  Let me give you a hug.”  I stood on my knees on the bed, letting the sheets drop, and held out my arms.  He walked into them awkwardly.  I kissed him on the cheek and squeezed anyway.  This is what friends do, after all: they support and love.  “You’re gonna do great.  I promise.  Good luck.”

He squeezed back and put his other hand gingerly on my hip before he pulled away.  “Thanks.”

He walked out of my room and I called out, “Safe travels!!” then, “And thanks for the fuck!”

I heard him laugh as he shut the front door behind him and I snuggled down into bed.  The towel covering the epic wet spot pleasantly rough on my bare bottom.

I remember the month of July as the month I couldn’t breathe and food tasted like packing popcorn.  I laid nearly comatose every spare second I had in bed watching Cheers in between fleeting hookups and interactions with him and going to work.  I knew then that it would pass.  I knew it.  I’ve been through worse and came out alive, after all, but fucking Christ was it unpleasant.

I had to let myself be a pathetic, sniveling shit for a few weeks in order to move to the next season.  I molted.  It wasn’t obvious then because I hadn’t fully emerged yet, but I’d like to think it’s more apparent now.  I forget about him most days and I check my libido at the door like a good, stoic German woman should.  She has better things to do than lead with her pussy all day.

I wonder what the future of this blog will be as I enter this strange limbo of autumn.  I am extremely busy — too busy to go hunting — but this is a blog about my dissolute life and I’m not feeling all that dissolute.  I’m beginning to feel like now Hyacinth is that best friend I made at summer camp, but I really, really don’t want to see her go.  Not just yet.

I still want to be dissolute.

I tripped and fell on his cock and then he called me “Sunshine.”

Sunday morning I lay in a strange bed, sunlight streaming in around us. A man lay curled up behind me, his cock buried deep inside of me, my buttocks pushed softly into his thighs. Our breathing was soft and deep. I closed my eyes and he pulled me back into him with a heavy arm. I drifted off to sleep content and happy.

I awoke later and we were disengaged. I turned on my side and spooned him, his round bottom pulled into the cradle of my hips. He stirred and sleepily looked over his shoulder at me, “Good morning, sunshine,” he said as he rolled onto his back and pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.

“Good morning, Neighbor,” I answered back.

::

Monday night my anger at my young lover had reached another breaking point. I couldn’t justify spending one more minute with a man who blithely joked about taking me for granted and who deliberately turned a blind eye to my boundaries. Stubborn as a mule, and as about as enlightened half the time, he could no longer get the pieces of me he wanted while I sat empty-handed, the girl at the coffee shop furtively glancing at the door waiting for her date to finally show up. I was going to leave the building again.

I had drinks with my friend Lindsey and came home determined to once again end this once and for all. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t even dreading it. I texted for him to come over and “be neighborly.” He said he wasn’t home, but would be soon. He came in and we sat down and I looked at him and said immediately, “I can’t do this anymore. We have to stop. Again. I can’t find love and someone who really cares about me so long as you’re in my bed and you can’t find whatever it is you’re looking for, either.”

He just looked at me, his light blue eyes glued to mine, an implacable look on his face. “I don’t want to fuck you anymore, either.”

My mouth drew into a hard line. “Gee, thanks for that,” but I understood that he was trying to get the upper hand. “But, really, we have to stop this. I cannot be with you when I get nothing out of this. The only reason I picked up with you again was because you weren’t looking for anyone else and we have an incredible time together, but it’s hard on me. You come and go as you please, as your moods and desires dictate. I have no say in any of it. I could justify it all because at least I got sex, but then you love to hold that at bay and torture me with it. The breaking point was when you said you took me for granted the other night. That hurt me so badly, TN. I can’t do it. I can’t be with a man who thinks so little of me that he’d laugh at me and say those things.”

His mouth dropped open a little. He didn’t impress me much the next few hours we talked. He said I should have asked for clarification regarding the “taking me for granted thing.” I said he needed to stop saying reckless, mean things if he didn’t want me to believe them.

“I only meant that sex is the least important part of our relationship. It’s the friendship I value the most! I told you in that moment I’d probably regret saying that…” His voice trailed off as I sat there thinking, “I bet he’s really regretting it now.”

I told him it was bullshit that he wasn’t capable of saying, “Jesus, Hy, I’m so sorry for saying that, for hurting you. I didn’t mean to.” He felt I was condescending to him and he tried to storm out. I had to master my face into a mask of calm lest I burst out laughing at his adolescent outburst.

“No, TN. You’re going to stay here,” I calmly stated as I stood in the foyer doorway, my hand on the jamb. “Go sit down and we’ll keep talking about this.”

He looked at me again as I pulled myself up to my full height. Somehow we were almost eye to eye. I walked over to the balcony door leaving the doorway free. “I’m really feeling the age gap right now,” I said. He walked back to the couch and sat down and waited for me to continue. “What are you going to lose in apologizing to me. You said yourself you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He sighed and said he was sorry. “Thanks,” I said.

I cried when I relived those moments with 4 am girl and him and how he’d said Peyton was six strikes against me. The pain I feel in my chest at being discriminated against for things I can’t control feels like someone has tampered with my oxygen tank. I feel bleak and desperate, strangely lusting for revenge, but possessing of exactly zero weapons. I sobbed and he looked heartbroken.

“Can we still be friends?” he whispered.

“I don’t know, TN. I really don’t.”

“Then I guess I’ll leave.” It was too early and he was going off in another huff.

“Stop,” I said firmly. He turned and looked at me. “Stay. Sit.” He obediently came back and sat down.

Four hours after he came over I stood and told him it was time to say goodbye and to give me a farewell kiss. “Unless,” I added, “You don’t want to say goodbye and you want to be my boyfriend.” He stood a foot away and may have been touching my arms, I don’t know. I only remember him locking his gaze to mine and saying firmly, enunciating each syllable with precision, “No. That’s never going to happen.” He chastely kissed my jaw and said, “That’s all you’re getting.”

I wanted our lips to touch gently and firmly and to hug him goodbye. I wanted to send him off with a sweet kiss and a tender moment, but he is somewhere else.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Thanks, once again, for misunderstanding me.” I walked him to the door and he slipped next door. I hadn’t made any promises of friendship, nor had he pushed me for any. I went to bed feeling accomplished.

::

Friday rolled around and I nervously awaited my date dressed in my favorite yellow dress. His name was Law Student and he was tallish and beautiful with milky blue eyes and rusty golden curls. He wore black dress pants and an impeccably white button-down shirt that lit up our table like a diamond on black velvet. I made a joke about the medical tape on our table from taping my broken finger and he laughed, probably relieved at my comedic attempt.

I poured him a glass of red wine and we settled in, our banter as lively and intoxicating as it had been all week. I’d met him online and our virtual chemistry was instant. It was an enormous relief to discover in person it poured over us both like honey, sticking in all the right cracks.

We met early, at 5, so decided to grab dinner after we’d drained our bottle. We walked to his beaten up Toyota and chatted as he drove the couple of miles to the Mexican restaurant. His cologne filled my nostrils and I sighed with contentment, then I giggled as I remembered how I’d stupidly revealed I wasn’t wearing any panties. He asked me what was so funny. “Nothing.”

Dinner came and went with more laughter and a margarita. He left to use the restroom and in his absence I asked two girls at a neighboring table if I could bum a smoke. “Sure,” one said as she handed me one. “Are you on a first date?”

“Yes. How could you tell?”

“Oh, body language,” she said with a shrug. “He’s really cute!” she added. “Good job!”

I laughed and sat back down. LS returned to me and I could see him appraising me with pleasure. “So, it’s really early,” I pointed out. “Would you like to come back to my place and watch Bull Durham?”

“Sure,” was his immediate response.

He drove me back to my car and he followed me home. I was giddy with excitement, hoping beyond all hope that TN would run into this Adonis of a man trailing behind me with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and smelling like tangy clovers. We made it into my apartment with no mishap and a bad quote from me from Pretty Woman and the penthouse.

“Wow,” he said turning around slowly taking in my apartment. “This place is really nice. Like, really, really nice.”

“Oh, well, thanks. Ignore the pile of laundry in the chair, though, ok?” We both laughed. “Do you want some wine? I only have a little.” He nodded and I poured us two glasses. I handed him one, still standing in the kitchen, when he stepped an inch closer and blocked my way. He looked down at me intently, his mouth parted. I tilted my head up and he grabbed my face and kissed me. Gently at first, then with fervor.

His control unraveled swiftly and his hands roamed all over my body, touching and squeezing my bottom and my breasts. In a deliberate attempt to remain chaste that night, I had left my pussy unshaved. It was clipped short, but there were hairs outside the bikini line and certainly in places I would normally attend to had I been planning on any intimate touching. But I should have known that it wouldn’t matter.

His hand hiked up dress and his fingers found me. I gasped into his mouth, embarrassed and turned on. His finger stroked me, hot and skilled. I gushed around his hand and his ardor increased tenfold. He tore my straps off my shoulders and feasted on my breasts silently. His breath came in heaving gulps.

I bucked against his hand as I released around him again. He pushed me roughly against the pantry door and pinned me like a butterfly to a foam board. I was breathing heavily, my breath quite literally stolen from me. His passionate kiss and touches rendered me speechless. I lifted my chin and looked at him. He kissed me again. I staggered away and grabbed a towel to wipe my ankles and thighs dry and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Jesus Christ,” I managed. “That was fucking hot. Also, I’m not fucking you tonight.”

“Good,” was his simple answer.

I sat there collecting myself and it dawned on me that I was the only one who’d been looking forward to the movie.

We sat down on the couch and talked some more. He kept our glasses full and I watched him walk away with a smile on my face. Not only was he gorgeous, but we had lists of things in common, hadn’t stopped talking or laughing once, and I hadn’t had such a good date in months. I was his first date ever from this website, however, and red flags sprouted like mushrooms all around us. I chose to ignore them and barrel on, however, when he asked me to share some of my bad date stories.

So I regaled him with the all the dates I’d had this year while dating TN. Most were chaste, some were R-rated, but I kept those discreet and not boastful. When I got to Kevin, I said, “Yeah, he was this young kid and he was on my roster for a while.” I froze and slapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean to say that! Not ‘roster’! That’s the old Hy! Not the new one!”

He laughed at me and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough time of it!”

“Oh, well, I had another lover, too. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything –” and before I could say more his mouth was crushing mine again, his smile evident in his kiss.

He loomed over me and I fell back onto the cushions and once again my breasts spilled back out. He maneuvered me so my legs hung off the side and he hitched my knees up over his shoulders. My head spun, I pinched my eyes shut. Oh god oh god oh god. His mouth dove down on me and it was hot velvet. I moaned and pressed my hips into his face. His eyes were closed as he lavished my fuzzy pussy lips with his own clean-shaven face.

He reared back up over me and the passion on his face scorched me. I had to look away for a second to catch my breath. “I’m not going to fuck you,” I repeated for both our sakes.

“I know. I like that.” He came down on me again and the sweet taste of my own body filled my head.

I stood up, trembling. My dress was soaked. I left to change into my pajamas and when I came back he’d put his shoes on. “I better go. Thanks for tonight. We’ll see each other again soon.”

“Ok,” I said and walked him to the front door. He opened it wide and bent down and hauled me into his embrace. I wanted so badly for the genie to appear right then and read my mind and have TN see me cradled in this man’s arms, my breasts crushed against him, but, alas, the genie must have been napping.

::

After I broke things off with TN he, as he is wont to do, closed the gap.

He gave me a bottle of wine Tuesday night when I asked for one. He invited me over to watch the debate Wednesday night and when I arrived with the remnants of his wine and some popcorn my girlfriend had left behind Tuesday night he lit candles and incense and reclined on the couch in a familiar way, peppering our shouts at the TV with brushes on my knee and pats on my elbow. When he had to abruptly leave and run to his office he texted me an hour later apologizing and said how much fun he’d had hanging out with me. Thursday night we had our playoff game against his team. We clobbered them and 4 am girl hung back in the dugout and shied away from good sportsmanship entirely. He had strutted and preened in front of me, laughing and joking with me and my team. It was a little glorious, I won’t lie, and when I got home that night — after two more exhausting games — I asked him to come have a drink with me.

He abstained, but we talked some more about 4 am girl. He asked that I stop bringing her up, that it made him uncomfortable and he wished that it’d never happened. I agreed as much to say, “See? I can respect your wishes, so you can respect mine, too” (I had railed on him about his inappropriate comments about women Monday night and he had finally seemed to catch on).

He left later after lots of laughing and I felt mostly ambivalent. I was still chewing on this “friendship” thing. I wasn’t feeling that old draw, my ankles were firmly crossed. I had LS on the brain, and big time.

Friday morning driving to work I got a text. It was from TN. I opened it up and it was his giant, resplendent cock, inappropriately and gorgeously displayed for my eyes only. I ignored it and praised his fluffy comforter instead.

Saturday afternoon was beautiful here. The city thrummed with a cold front and the sky shimmered with promised winter. I read my book, took a shower, found a man to have a drink with me, but he’d basically disappeared. I had plans with Amy later that night and my friend Tina, but I was antsy and bored. I cleaned everything I could, but really wanted my floor vacuumed. I knocked next door.

“Hey,” he said standing in a workout shirt and shorts.

“Could you do me a favor? Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Will you vacuum for me?”

He disappeared back inside and came over a minute later. He cleaned my floors as I folded laundry. The fact that he was clothed a 2 ton elephant in the room. When he was finished I went out on a limb. “Do you want to go grab a drink?” I asked.

Again, “Sure.”

We headed downtown and the wind whipped around us as we parked beneath the skyscrapers. We were near my old downtown apartments and I took him on a quick tour. “I fucked in that hotel,” I said pointing to a tall building with flags cracking in the wind. “I also fucked in the fancy one we drove by.” I rather liked my “Hollywood Stars Homes Tour.”

I showed him my old bedroom windows and those of the Original Neighbor with whom I got entangled 15 long years ago. “Wow. The first Neighbor!” he laughed.

We headed to the bar and ordered margaritas and appetizers. I thanked him again for vacuuming and said at least he got to keep his clothes on. “That’s not really a good thing,” he retorted. I shook it off and left the bait on the hook.

As the night progressed and the liquor did its work he moved closer to me, his comments got more laden with innuendo. I didn’t get drunk, but he did. A rarity. We sat and talked with some chick for an hour and I propped my boots up on his chair. He ran his hands over the leather and kneaded my calves as he spoke. The girl regarded us with an open look. I ignored her.

I invited him to Amy’s house with me, but he begged off. We got in the car and we were nearly home with Tina called and wanted me to come and get her. TN had answered my phone and he agreed, so instead of turning left to get us home, I went straight and the night took a turn.

At the house party TN drank more and I saw him unravel and join the rest of the world by losing his iron-like grip on his control. One little thread at a time. He was all over me by now in an affectionate, protective way. We leaned in and whispered and made jokes and finally it was time to take Tina over to Amy’s. I was not taking TN home first. He was fully on this ride now.

Parked in my friend’s driveway waiting for her to put her son to sleep TN breathed with strain in the back seat. Tina lay half passed out in the passenger side. “I think I’m going to puke,” I heard him say. He jumped out and I ran around to help him.

“Hug a tree, honey. You’ll be fine.” I smiled as he dropped to all fours and retched. I patted his back and giggled. “Welcome to the world of losing control, TN! I’m so proud of you!” He laughed at my strange logic and I helped him to stand.

“Wow. I feel a lot better!” I helped him back in the car and we waited a few more minutes before Amy came bounding out to let us in.

We gathered firewood and got the heat going and pulled up chairs. Tina poured us all some wine. TN declined. Across the fire pit he sat with his ankle on his knee, my two girlfriends between us. The warm, yellow light licked at his face and I felt happier than I had in weeks.

We drifted off into the darkness and gathered more wood and I sat back down next to him. He pulled my chair closer and we put our heads together whispering and chatting, laughing at inside jokes. Tina and Amy gave us our privacy.

When the stars were their brightest I had to go lie down. I made sure TN was ok sleeping on the couch and I headed in to the spare room, but he followed behind and shut the door. He tossed me down on the bed and peeled off my clothes, unzipped my boots, and fell on top of me burying himself inside of me.

I moaned and thrust and writhed under him. He panted and kissed and pummeled me into the darkness. First the night and then to sleep.

::

“We’re not having sex any more, you know. Last night was an accident.” I was smiling as I said this tracing his bow shaped mouth with my finger tip. His hands were tracing lines on my arms as I touched his face.

“I know.”

“Good. We’re just a couple of rutting magnets, but we can do this. No. more. sex.”

“Yes. No more sex,” he repeated.

I drove Tina home and then the both of us. I started to whimper as I climbed the stairs in pain. “You can sleep in my bed for a little while if you want,” he offered.

I fell into a light sleep, woke up 20 minutes later and ran off to fulfill my Sunday responsibilities. “Can I come back over around 1 and nap?” I texted, desperate.

“Ok.”

At 1:15 I showed up looking like something the cat dragged in. I didn’t hurt anywhere except my back and I felt like weights swung from my eyelids. “Aw, Hycie. Come in!” he said with a smile when I knocked. He gently pushed on my shoulders and guided me to his bed. I climbed in and modestly removed my clothes while he lit candles and incense, grabbed me a sleep mask and brought me some water. I slept for two hours pain free.

Dressed again and headed back out to fulfill more Sunday responsibilities I quipped, “Well, thanks Lil’ Buddy. It’s been real,” and I disappeared into my own apartment.

::

I didn’t hear from Law Student at all until today. It was a pointless chat and we have not made plans to hang out again.

::

Every morning I wake up wishing someone could see this:

;

;

I fuck while she watches.

It took me a minute to realize that I was in his bed, in his room.  There was a meaty, warm arm wrapped around me and that was why I was so hot.  I sat up and pulled off my San Francisco 49ers shirt and pajama shorts and crawled back under the covers.

The Neighbor opened up his arms and I snuggled inside his embrace and turned around to nuzzle his neck and pull off his basketball shorts.  I clutched and stroked his beautiful erection and sleepily, lo, half-drunkenly, we laughed and chatted about our night.  It’d been goddamned epic.

Wine and Sidecars, fucking and hugs, laughing and wrestling, orgasms and cum.

“I want some motherfucking waffles,” he declared between laughing.  I giggled and said I had a motherfucking headache.

“Do you have any ibuprofen?” I asked standing up and stretching in the morning light.

“If I do, it’ll be in the medicine cabinet.”  I quickly discovered he didn’t have any.

“I’ll be right back!” I called to him as I headed to his front door, naked and brash.  I checked to see if the coast was clear and jumped the five feet to my front door and let myself in and was met with the proof of my ill repute.

My black club chair was pushed to the side, the ottoman was draped in a poker felt, the lilies I’d bought for Noodle’s visit had opened up overnight and their sweet smell mixed with the remnants of incense.  To my left, by the kitchen table in a heap, was my black shirt and pale pink panties and matching lace bra.  Wine and half-filled champagne glasses were on every possible surface.

I looked around, but no one was there.  Quietly I walked to the back of the apartment and pushed open my door.  Noodle was mounted on Downstairs Neighbor, his cock buried deep inside of her.

“Hi, guys!” I beamed, partially hiding my nudity behind the door.

“Hy!” they exclaimed together startled.

“Whatchoo guys, doin’?” I asked laughing.

“Goddamnit, Hy!  Get out of here!” boomed DN with a laugh.  Noodle just giggled, never breaking contact with my neighbor.

“You want some fucking waffles?  TN’s starving and he wants some fucking waffles,” I announced, mirth plastered on my face.

“Yes,” DN said annoyed, “We want some fucking waffles, but later!  Get the hell out!”  I shut the door laughing and returned to TN’s bed, the ibuprofen in hand.

“They were fucking again, but I told them we want some motherfucking waffles so they’ll be done soon,” I said to him with a smile.

::

When Noodle arrived yesterday around 1:30 I was waiting for her on my stairwell; I couldn’t contain my excitement in the apartment.  When we finally met I squealed and jumped up and down and hugged and hugged and hugged her.

With a wine glass in her hand she wandered around the apartment exclaiming at how weird it was to actually be seeing it with her own eyes.  She went out on the balcony, her wavy hair blowing in the breeze, and pointed to TN’s balcony, “Is that –?” she left off the rest of the sentence.

“Yep.  Sure is.  And that,” I said pointing below, “Is Downstairs Neighbor,” and as I said it I could see him sitting in his chair smoking his Camel Lights.  I made quick introductions and begged him for a smoke.  He said he’d just come up and give me one.

It was strange to watch as one of my characters met one of my readers.  One has had the benefit of knowing me in my skin and the the other in my head.  Did they know the same woman??

He left and Noodle and I went and got pedicures and sipped on smuggled wine.  We chatted and laughed and she said nice things about my legs and I said nice things about her tits.

By the time we returned to the apartment the rain had stopped and the temperature had dropped a few degrees.  A breeze swept through my rooms and I felt as light-hearted as a girl riding her first pony.  Hunger drove us from the house and while meandering  through Friday afternoon traffic we listened to Super Tramp curling out of the car radio.

At the little house bar we sat outside and drank more wine and nibbled on cheese and smoked salmon.  We talked and laughed and then headed home where we lounged around like college students.  I considered a pillow fight, but painted my nails while she told me tales instead.  Then I watched her put on her makeup and get dressed for dinner while laying on my bed.  It was like we’d done this a thousand times before.

Then, right before the cabbie called to announce his arrival, she made me take off my shirt to take a picture.

My girlfriend, Lindsey, joined us for dinner and drinks and Noodle brilliantly sidestepped the questions of, “So, how do you know Hy?  How long have you known her?” not for the first time that night.  We laughed and told jokes and she lamented at how lame the men in my city were.  “Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said men don’t hit on you!”

“Yep, the men here are fucking jerks,” added Lindsey.

By 10:30 we were ready to go home.  We’d killed another bottle of wine and were eager to have the night really begin.   TN was waiting for us somewhere in the night.

I called him to let him know we were home-bound and he offered to come pick us up, always the gentleman.  He rolled up in his fancy black car and we jumped in.  He drove Lindsey to her car and then the three of us headed home.

He had no idea what a big fucking deal that moment was, that meeting those two women meant more than just meeting two random people in my life.  Noodle knows every intimate detail of everything he and I have ever done, Lindsey knows the emotional aspects of everything.  To him, they were just Noodle and Lindsey.  To them, this was the ubiquitous, omnipresent Neighbor that — for lack of a better word — tortures their friend.

I had the sense that I was suddenly writing my own narrative again, but I shook it off and barreled down the road I travel: fucking fun and frolic.

We spilled into my apartment and TN ran next door to get his Sidecar fixings.  We are going to get drunk, he said and he was right.  The liquor flowed saloon-like for hours.  We played poker.  We laughed so hard our sides hurt and TN flirted shamelessly with me in front of Noodle making a liar out of me.  He’d never been so openly affectionate before.

Memory fades in and out from there, a misty ribbon of images and feelings: Embraced by Noodle, my head clutched to her warm bosom in a loving hug; I was safe.  Fucked and pounded on the floor in the living room;  impaled  and cried in my room, TN over me and in me, Noodle’s lilting voice in my ear.  Came and cried as he rammed into me, his mouth on her breast.  Filled up with his cum.  Laughing on the balcony with Downstairs Neighbor.  Wrestling like puppies with my love while Noodle and DN kissed and canoodled under the stars.  Cuddling on the floor of his balcony.  Noodle and DN in various and sundry compromising positions on my couch.  And then, his arm around me in his bed, sunshine pouring through the blinds.

Noodle remembers it all.  Every word, every nuance, every thrust. She was my champion, my protector, my sweet tiger.  She growled and bristled and cuffed the man-puppy on the ear when he began to stray and she outright thrummed with anger when he hurt me.

After poker, when I invited TN to touch our breasts, to give him that gift, he compared the two.  I laughed, but she hissed.  Her rebuke was swift and firm.  I don’t think he knew why he had dropped to give her 10, but he did it anyway.  And then, with a smile and her drawl, she explained to him that he may never discuss her breasts with me ever.  He nodded assent.

But the lesson was short lived.

Noodle said he suddenly looked like a kid in a candy store when I’d told him she could cum from nipple stimulation.  He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and rubbed expertly over her bra until she had a little orgasm.  He looked at me watching them and quipped, “Now why can’t you do that, Hy?”

Noodle said I looked crushed, that my lip trembled and I struggled to be ok.  I have no memory of this.  And then I left for a minute to do what, she doesn’t know, but in those 120 seconds she squared off with TN.  “You can’t say shit like that.  It’s not right,” she leveled at him.  “A woman is either wired to do that or she isn’t.  And you are asking her to do something that her body physically can’t.  And all she wants to do is please you and that was an asshole thing to say.   Do you understand?”

Understanding washed over his face as he said, “Oh.”

“Don’t say something like that again.  Got it?” and she set her jaw defiantly at him right as I returned.

Without a word she opened her arms to me and I fell to the ground with her as she cradled me, kissed my forehead and stroked my hair.  TN was across the room and she said he came up behind me and spooned me, wanting to be part of my solace.  They joked that they were making a Hy sandwich, her anger at him gone and replaced with the common goal of loving me.

Then, because he knows he can always make me feel better with his body, he slipped his fingers inside of me and began to stroke as I lay nestled in her arms.  I was bashful as heat began to wash over me.  His fingers and palm worked the slow burn inside of me until  I blossomed.  I turned into him as he made me climax in front of Noodle and she stepped back and he devoured me.  Tore off my clothes and his and took me on the living room floor with our audience of one looking on heatedly.

She said he wanted to show me off, show her what I could do at his hands.  She sensed he was proud of me.

He led the both of us back to my room.  The brandy was thick in my brain and I was a bundle of passion and lust and love and trust.  It was all there, visible for anyone to see if he cared to.  Noodle saw it.

She lay on the bed, fully clothed while we rutted, steam rising from our bodies.  She left us for a minute and returned with ice cubes.  She was sure we were on fire as she rubbed the ice on our skin. I incoherently sobbed and she translated.  “She wants you to stop.”

“She wants me to pull out?” he said surprised.

“No. Stay in, but just stay.  Don’t move.”  I cried my agreement, tears streaking my face.

I caught my breath and told him to take Noodle’s nipple in his mouth.  He leaned over and sucked, his face disappearing into the pillow of her breast, his cock pumping wildly inside of me. I released around him, body and soul.  Wildly he rode me, my bed screaming, our bodies wet with passion and exploded into me, shuddering and shaking like a sapling in a storm.

He stilled for a minute and I breathed in his soapy scent and kissed his neck.  He nuzzled mine and started to move again.  Slap, slap, slap.  Noodle got up to pee and when she came out TN and I were still locked together and Downstairs Neighbor filled the doorway with his booming laugh.  “What the fuck is going on!” he cackled.

He retreated to kitchen to make himself a drink and Noodle followed.  TN and I remained in my room locked in our private embrace.  She hugged DN like they were old friends and on the balcony she told him she’d have a coronary if he didn’t kiss her immediately.  He obliged and  a minute later TN and I joined them before tumbling around on the floor.

::

We never did end up getting those motherfucking waffles, but we did all go to breakfast.  DN and Noodle on one side of the booth and TN and I on the other.  Two couples having brunch to the casual observer, four sated individuals to those looking closer.

Noodle joked about how pleased she was that DN wasn’t some fat fuck who scratched his dirty balls all day long — I guess I’ve forgotten to mention that he’s tall, dark and handsome in his own right — and we laughed because DN said he did actually scratch his dirty balls all day long.

Then I ordered TN his apple juice for him when he went to wash his hands and had it delivered in a kiddie cup. I really am motherfucking funny.

Back home TN pulled me into his arms and gave me a warm hug as he announced he was leaving.  He hugged Noodle goodbye and left and DN and I smoked on the balcony as she bustled around packing.

“Well, honey,” she said finally, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, “It’s been real.”

I stood and hugged her again and she kissed DN goodbye and left.  My wonderful, beautiful, wicked smart, southern drawl tiger left the building and my bubble and I felt empty.

I open my entire life and heart to the internet, to my Internet Boyfriend, and thousands of strangers a month, but I am shy and vulnerable in real life.  I don’t demand things that I know I should.  I have a hard time truly opening up. This blog is a living, breathing part of me and Noodle knows it inside and out.  She saw me stumble with TN and her resolve was true: she was never going to hurt me.  She could never touch his cock, she said, because she could see how much I loved him even if he couldn’t.  In fact, she was going to go one further and protect me.

I don’t have many protectors in my life, but she thinks I have one more besides her.

She saw what I see in The Neighbor.  His charm and sweetness, his love for me. “He was so protective of you, Hy, despite the stupid shit that came out of his mouth. It’s incredibly obvious he cares about you.  A lot.  But it’s also clear that he has no idea what to do with you.”

She was also my voice, my friend and my playmate.

She was mellow to my intensity, soft where I was hard.  She was fierce where I was vulnerable and my voice when I was silent.  Her energy left a wake in my house and with my friends, my two funny neighbors who don’t usually meet women like us.  I imagine I must be such a paragon of hedonism to them living their solitary, quiet lives, but I don’t care and I can’t help it and being this way has opened the door for someone like Noodle to walk through.  A woman I’d never have met in real life.

And she talked to DN about me and The Neighbor, something I find strangely appealing.  I feel comforted and cared about.  Two people, not involved, weighing in on the TN-Hy saga.  DN said  “TN doesn’t know who he is.  He’s learning everything he is through Hy.”

“I think you’re right,” she answered.

Now I’m having Noodle withdrawals, and a little TN withdrawals, too.  I felt so loved and filled up with them here.  She made magic out of a broken heart and loved on me like I’ve needed to be loved for so long.  “You get fucked all the time, Hy, but do you ever get loved on?” she asked me.

It was an excellent question and I had to answer, “No.  Not until you.”

Nope, not until you, Noodle.  Thank you for everything this weekend.  Thank you for twirling with me on the dance floor and never turning down the music.  You are beautiful and sensual, your peridot eyes are lit from within, and you smell goddamned delicious.  You are magical.  And I am lucky to know you.

I get what I want: Cum on my lips and giant cock in my pussy

Sam and the crew were searching for a money belt in Cheers when I drifted off to sleep on my couch.  I had spent the day loving and smiling and laughing and kissing soft, plump cheeks and hugging 60 year olds hello.  My life, so out of control and painful two months ago has careened back onto track.  My priorities are aligned with my heart, my heart is in cahoots with my mind.  I feel tall.  All 5 foot 5 of me.

The last two months have been 60-odd days of self discovery: wins and losses nearly every day and as many highs, lows, answers and questions in between.  My husband reunited with his girlfriend, The Neighbor left me for a drunk, then never actually left me; I burned out at work and decided to take a three-week hiatus to re-center; and most importantly, I finally saw Peyton standing before me in a beam of dusty sunlight glowing like an angel that had always been there to show me the way.  So I followed.

And here’s where I was tonight: laying on TN’s naked chest, his semen tingling on my lips and its heady fragrance filling my nostrils, my body limp and exhausted from multiple gut-wrenching, teeth-chattering orgasms, and me casually sitting up and saying, “Well, let’s get you outta here!”

At around 10 to 7 tonight I heard a knock on the door.  Of course I knew who it’d be.  Who fucking else could it possibly be??  It was TN in his swimming trunks.

“So!  Let’s go swimming!”

“Sorry, but no.  I have my baby.”

“Let’s all go!”

“No.  I’ve been torturing Peyton for over an hour with the promise of watching TV at 7.  There’s only 10 minutes to go.”

He pushed past me.  “Let me ask Peyton myself.”

“Ok,” I shrugged.  “Fine.”  I was fairly certain the answer would be No.

I told him Peyton was under my bed.  He quietly climbed on top and hung his head over.  “Hey, Peyton, wanna go swimming??”

“Yes!” came the little squeal.  Then, “Oh wait, No.  I wanna watch TV.”

TN looked at me.  “Can TV be watched after swimming??”

I shrugged again.  “Sure.”  They both smiled and laughed.

We played in the pool for an hour, the cool water only barely tolerable after a summer of bath-water was a strange brew in which to play.  It felt like odd magic.

Since the break up, I’ve not kept Peyton and TN separated.  During our entire relationship the two were in two separate columns and I’m ashamed to admit that I would manipulate the situation to finagle what I wanted out of it.  I would read one less book to Peyton at night in order to see TN sooner, I wouldn’t play as much in the pool when TN was around, or I would ask to be left alone by  my baby to the dirty privacy of my phone to send pictures or text.  But not anymore.

I am all me, all mama, all good Hy with Peyton no matter what TN wants from me.  Peyton comes first, my promises and my little one’s needs are all that matter.  Tonight in the pool I loved and kissed and tickled and played with my sweet angel.  I didn’t care if TN felt ignored or left out.  My heart swelled.  I felt strong and right.   Right.  I’ve never exposed this side of me to TN before.  It felt almost wrong to let him see the beauty that is my relationship with my child in the past, but now I’m flying my Mother Flag high and proud.

When I got cold enough I said it was time to go inside.  We all climbed the stairs and Peyton humorously slammed the door ahead of us to our home.  On my way inside I flashed TN one of my breasts.  I wanted him.  He wagged his eyebrows at me and we shut our doors.  It was really that clear.

Later, I simply texted him, “I want your cock in me tonight.”

My new perch lends me perspective and longsight.  I have no fear of rebuke or rebuff with a simple statement of what truly is.  I assumed I would be ignored or maybe propositioned.  Instead, I was goaded.  A good sign.  Then, KNOCK KNOCK.

I opened the door and he was clad in jeans and a t-shirt.  I was in a mens Hanes tank top and PJ shorts, my usual attire.  “So, uh, I’m going to the store.  Do you need anything??”

“No.”  I didn’t invite him in.  Peyton was watching TV around the corner and I had dinner on the stove.

“Are you sure??” and I follow his eyes which look down at his hand pointing at a prominent bulge in his pants.

“Oh…” I gasp and instantly lean into him with my hand, pressing my breasts against him.  He pulls me into him and I stand up straight.  The tip of his erection nestles in the cleft of my legs.  He pinches my breasts and the cool night air blows past my legs and curls around our limbs. His fingers nestle inside of me and gently work me.  I manage to say,  “Well, I’d like one of these then,” and I pull his buttocks towards me.

We break apart and he says, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.  Actually, I want two.”

And then I forgot all about it.  I read Peyton as many books as was asked of me, loved and kissed some more, turned on fans and turned off lights, plumped pillows, made promises of scaring off bad guys and headed back out to the living room.  I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down to watch more Cheers.

I don’t remember ever feeling so light-hearted in two years.

I laid down on my side and closed my eyes…

I woke up to a man standing over me, my nipple pinched between his fingers, his icy blue eyes looking heatedly down on me, his other hand on my shoulder.  “Hy…” he’s saying softly.

“Holy shit,” I say startled.  I sit up and shake my head, trying to get my bearings.  “Did you just get here??”

“Yes,” he says and stands up straight.  His crotch is mouth level and I see the bulge.  I lean forward and scrape my teeth along its length.  He groans and presses into my face.  I stand up and he lays down.  I wordlessly unbuckle his pants and release my hound.  It’s fat and pink and uncovered by one mere zip.

I lick and suck and moan and run my hands through his chest hair.  I bite his neck and kiss him with wild abandon.  His ardor matches mine lick and nip.  His hands roam over my taught thigh and arched back as I stand half-perched with him in my mouth.  I take his hand and pull him up.  I was tempted to grab his cock and lead him that way, but I was wary of the zipper on his exposed flesh.  Instead, I tug on his hand and we escape to my darkened room.

The closet light is on and casts a faint light on the bed.  We close the door and he rips my clothes off and crushes his mouth on mine.  I peel his shirt and jeans off without breaking contact and he backs me into the bed and pushes me down.  He pulls my bottom to the edge and slowly enters me.  He’s saying something, but I have no clue what it is.  All I can think is how badly I want his magic cock inside of me.  That I had orchestrated this.  That this is exactly what I want.  Nothing more from him.  Just his glorious. fucking. cock.

He leans into me and fills me to the brim.  I cry out and grab the edge of the bed but I can’t get purchase.  He angles me towards the headboard and we laugh as he moves me, plow-like through the sheets to be vertical on the bed.  “I’m plowing the plow!” he quips.  I get half a giggle out before he starts impaling me.

I grip the curved bars of my headboard for minutes as he buries himself in my throat via my cunt.  I cry and shake my head, beg him for release, for mercy, for more more more.  He calmly watches me with a smirk, my life narrowed down to snippets my lashes allow me to see between their fluttering: a beautiful face half-lit smiling down at me, broad shoulders casting me in shadow, hard thighs slamming into the soft undersides of my own, the wailing creak of my bed, the thought that I may snap a bar off in my hand, and then he cums long and hard inside of me grunting and panting.  His breath puffs on my sweaty neck.

He sits up then and I reach around and start to rub my clit.  It’s a new thing for me.  I’m so sensitive I can barely stand it.  It hurts.  As if reading my mind he leans over and grabs my vibe and hands me the sheet.  He leans back, still fucking hard and buried deep inside of me and starts to move as the vibrator sits gently on my mound.  With each thrust I’m taken higher and higher.

I lose all control and scream and yell and buck and clench down hard on him.  I cry and stammer.  My orgasm brought on by him, not the vibrator alone.  I toss it aside and convulse.  He holds me tenderly and with pride then sits up and silently hands me the vibe again.

We do it all over again. Faster this time, bigger, louder.  He’s still hard.  The world has melted down to the joining of our bodies, his shape looming over me and my cells.  Words cannot be found.  He hands me the vibe a third time.

I whisper, “I’m gonna die, TN.  I’m gonna die.  I swear.  I’m gonna die.”  I cry into his neck.

He assures me I won’t and  leans over me and only flexes his cock this time, gently.  He sits up briefly and holds one leg up and spanks me hard, switches legs and spanks the other flank again and again.  He lowers my legs and braces his arms on either side of me again and flexes inside of me; butterfly kisses stroke my walls.  I am encased in him in every way.  He’s to my left, right, above and in me.

I cum in under 30 seconds screaming my release and only barely thanking God that I have sound machines in Peyton’s room.  He makes to hand me the vibe a fourth time and I get hysterical.  He laughs and says he’s only joking and rolls off of me and pulls me into his arms.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going now!” he chuckles.

“OK,” I pant, totally serious.  But he doesn’t.  Instead he stays and we laugh at my loss of wits and marvel at his giant hardon.  I absent-mindedly stroke it as we talk about, literally, nothing.

“I’m not going to make you cum, but I’d really love to suck it.  May I?” I ask.  His tempting meat is more than I can resist.

“Be my guest.”

I lean on an arm and take him in my mouth.  I can taste the iron like tang of the remnants of my period on him.  Like a paper cut.  I tell him so when he asks.  “Well that’s appealing,” he observes acerbically.

“Eh, fuck it.  It’s all good,” I retort.  “It’s just our bodies.  No biggie.”  And really, it wasn’t.  I was lapping up the remnants of my very essence, the thing that makes me a woman: my very blood.  I began to mew as his erection grows even bigger in my mouth and hand.  I position myself between his parted legs and get scissored in their vice as his pleasure mounts.  He begins to pant.

I pause to let him catch his breath and look at him, smiling with the head between my teeth.  He rolls his eyes back in his head and groans.  I fall back down on him and he immediately tenses, closer now than when I’d stopped.  I stop after bringing him closer two more times before he finally grabs my head and slams my face down on his shaft and spurts his delicious cum down the back of my throat.

His cock lays glistening on his belly, near his navel and I lick it from stem to stern and trail kisses up his chest and leave semen-scented kisses on his neck and jaw.  ‘You taste delicious,” I murmur.  He grabs my head and kisses me with an open, eager mouth.

“I taste like chlorine!” he laughs.

“Well, you’re not supposed to drink the pool water!” I laugh back.

Then we lay in each other’s arms and I continue to stroke his dancing, bulging erection.  “Does this ever go away??”

“Not when there’s a beautiful naked woman around.”

“Mmmm,” is all I can muster and then I sit up.  “Well, let’s get you outta here!”

He seems startled, but this was part of my plan all along.  I was not going to wait to be left.  I was going to hit the eject button first.  This is part of putting what I want first: Peyton, then me.  And right then, I wanted the control.

He follows me out of bed and makes more jokes about why don’t we fuck all night or don’t I want him to stay the night??  Things tripped out of his mouth that ordinarily would have made my heart skip a beat, but tonight I flatly ignored.  He was grappling for control back, but I was not going to relent.  It was mine.  Today was mine.  Tonight was mine.  All of this is now mine.  Take it or leave it.

I walk him to the door and he says, “You owe me $150 for that.”

“For what??”

“For all those orgasms.”

“You owe me!  No mere mortal woman can make you cum then suck you off.”

“Oh, right.  Ok, I’ll give you $50 then.”  He smiles at me and turns around in the dark entryway to face me.  “C’mere, Hy.  Let’s hug!” and he pulls me into his arms.  I hug him back fiercely with a beaming grin on my face and grab his lush ass.

He tosses out some more jokes, half-truths, and I see it all so clearly.  He’s trying to regain the upper hand, keep me off-balance, but what I don’t tell him is that with each half-truth and little joke he erodes any trust I have in him.  I don’t know why he’d want to do that.  “I’ll always believe you, you know,” I warn him.  “That’s who I am.”

We say good night and I twirl as I shut the door.  The night is glorious, 65 degrees and black, nearly starless.  Black Angels is playing on Pandora and my heart soars as my own little angel sleeps in the other room.  It’s getting better now.  Truly, truly better.

I met the man who woke up my cunt

In November of 2010 I was about to move out of my marital house into my own apartment.  Every cell in my body was screaming and crying, yet my veneer was like a mountain lake.  I was icy, detached.  Lost and lonely.

At the time all I wanted was cock.  Lots and lots of cock.  I opened an online dating account at OKC in late August and slept with my first man in October.

Dave was the second guy I met.  He had washboard abs and looked a little like John Cusack.  I’d invite him over for tea (and bourbon) while my kid napped and we’d kiss a little before he’d leave.  Our first official date was an out-of-town affair at a sausage festival.  “Should I book one bed or two?” he’d asked when making our hotel reservations.

“Surprise me,” was my loaded response.

That night we drank two pitchers of beer and I poured whiskey on my tits as I rode him on the squeaky hotel bed.  It was one of the hottest nights I’d had in years, but little did I know my life was about to change forever the next afternoon:  I had my first date with Troy.

Dave drove me home where I changed quickly and tied my hair back in a messy ponytail.  I clearly had sex-hair, but I didn’t care.  I was turned on by the thought of going from one man’s bed to another’s arms for a date.  Dave thought it was pretty great, too.

I texted Troy that I’d be a little late.  He’d said no problem.  I arrived at the local haunt to find him reposing on the flower beds, all 6’6″ of him.  He stooped to hug me as I tilted my head back to return the embrace.  He was cuter in person, I’d thought.

Lunch was uneventful until he grabbed my wrist and asked after my bracelet.  “What does this mean?” he wanted to know and for emphasis stroked the metal — and my skin — with a long finger.  My pulse quickened and I looked at him with new eyes.  This guy knew what he was doing.

After lunch we went back to his place, a cavernous two bedroom loft-like apartment a few blocks away.  There was a ladder under the dining room table in lieu of a place to sit.  “So I would stop nearly decapitating myself,” was his answer to my silent question.

“Ha!” I snorted, “Us little people don’t have to worry about things like that,” and I demonstrated by passing under the offensive lamp with a twirl.  He poured me a glass of wine and we sat on the couch.  I loved his reach and sheer size.  I’m not a petite woman; I like to be made to feel diminutive, and my personality is huge: hobble me, please.

We made out some that afternoon and I had to pull back from following him upstairs.  The birds were singing too loudly.  I wanted to play hard to get, not roll out the pussy-carpet.  His lips were soft and pliant, his weight pinned me to the couch.  We made plans to see each other the very next day, Sunday.  I left his place not feeling my feet hit the ground and his soapy, masculine scent in my nostrils.

I was a little nervous as I drove to his house after dark 24 hours later.  His physical presence, while obviously anatomically looming, also filled me with a buzzing excitement.  We had chemistry.

He opened the door in jeans and a t-shirt. I walked up the steep wooden stairs ahead of him knowing he was probably checking me out in my tights and boots.  My hips swung harder.  He offered me some wine, I obliged.  I teased him about his freakish height.  We laughed.

Conversation was easy and flowed as we sat on the couch together.  He was on the cushion next to mine.   The conversation turned to sex.

I told him about how my first orgasm was on the back of a horse; about how I once won a blue ribbon in a college equitation competition after I had orgasmed for what felt like minutes in the arena with five judges’ eyes on me; about my first cock experiences (big, tiny, big, etc.).  Then I told him about my wild night with a friend in September.

My story was stilted, but I did my best to remember some of the finer moments: I was soaking wet, he fucked my face, I swallowed his cum, I was vibrating.

He took a deep breath then and told me he had “big cock” fantasies.  About touching one, sucking one, seeing one live and in person.  “Holy shit,” I stammered, “That’s my fantasy, too!  Being with two men…”

His sherry colored eyes bore into mine, the pause was heavy and humming.  Two beats more and he closed the gap between us and his mouth was on mine, passionately.  He laid on top of me and gyrated his hips into mine.  He kept kissing me and kissing me and kissing me.  His hands roamed all over my body, my mind raced.  All logic left my head and I abruptly panted between kisses, “Let’s just go fuck. C’mon,” and I took his hand and he jumped up after me.

On my way up the stairs I unzipped my skirt, inside the doorway it was on the floor, by the time I got to the bed my shirt was off.  I spun around and lay back on the bed to watch him undress.

He was huge, broad-shouldered and had a smattering of soft, downy chest hair.  His cock took my breath away, dark and throbbing between the creamy white of his thighs.  The next several hours were a blur of huge cock in a soaking wet pussy.  I had never been fucked like that in my life.  Never.

He was on top of me, piling into me, so large over my smaller form.  His headboard cracked with disapproval under my grip and I pushed against the wall instead, impaling myself on him.  His grunts and cries compelled me to thrust down harder on him; his cock hard on my g-spot I lost all sense of myself and could do nothing but buck wildly down on him.  He turned me on my left side, swung my right leg over, but kept my bottom leg between his and found a new way to stroke my screaming cunt from the inside.  He pumped into me a few more times, cried out deeply and fell on top of me, kissed my ear.

We laughed, panting, and sweating.  He was overjoyed at going balls-deep with me, said he could feel my cervix.  Said he could rarely do that with women.  I’m unbelievably wet.  Like gushing wet.  My body had become a fucking faucet.  He kept laughing and saying how amazing it was, shaking his head.

I asked him for his social security number and $20.

I let him rest unassaulted until I couldn’t stay away a moment longer. I fell down on his suddenly rigid cock with my eager face.  I was feeling something for a change.  Really feeling something.  The ice had receded and I was warm, then hot.  I felt alive for the first time in months, maybe even years. I wasn’t going to stop.

Fat on the bottom, slightly tapered at the top, his balls pliant in my hands.  I could taste a little of the condom, and a lot of me.  I sucked harder, alternated my grip strength and my exploration of his perineum.   He shot a delicious load down my throat and I swallowed it with gusto, kissed him on the mouth and lay on his big chest smiling and proud of myself.  He was in shock.

I asked  him what his orgasm-in-a-single-night record was and he said, “Three.”

I glibly replied, “We’re gonna break it tonight.”

On top, straddling his hips, I rode him like I was galloping with gunmen at my back.  My arms felt hot and heavy, my face flushed; I relished his big paws on my hips pushing and pulling me on top of him.  My pussy released herself all over the cradle of his hips.  I didn’t know what was happening to me, I felt like a bear in a trap: confused and riled up, seething with something.  I saw stars, had a sense of elation unlike anything else, I kept fucking him, crying out again and again.  He came again.  Number 3.

This time I offered him my social security number and $20.  He smiled and said, “I’m at your cervix.”

On the bottom, I heard more cracking of the headboard, more deep-voiced cries, my entire body was my moaning cunt, pulsing, pouring juices, ejaculating all over us; every thrust is a ripple of pleasure to my very fingertips, except they’re coming at breakneck speed, falling and crashing down on top of one another.

I started to cry and laugh.  It felt so good I couldn’t help myself.  I was completely overwhelmed.  I have left the motherfucking building.  He flipped me over on my stomach and drove into me with violent, hammering thrusts.  I envisioned splitting in two, cried and laughed into his sweet-smelling sheets.  Got impaled.  By a giant.  He came a fourth time like I’d promised he would.

“I know how your hair got to look the way it did yesterday,” he said grinning holding me in his arms.  He gave my long locks a little tug, “From fucking.  Am I right?”  I answered with a shy smile and curt nod.  “Mmm, I love it,” he murmured into my neck.

Something had just happened to me.  This is what I had been craving my entire life.  This out-of-body pleasure, this total consummation of my physical being, my sexual soul exposed and devoured, freedom to be who and what I wanted to be and to shout it to the rafters.  Fuck that whole notion that great sex can’t happen out of the gate, I say.  Either it’s there, or it isn’t, and when your heart isn’t involved that’s all there should be, clearly.

I spent the next 8 months having mind-blowing sex with Troy at the expense of my own emotional welfare.  He was cruel and insensitive on two legs, a wondrous magician of a lover off of them.  He helped me learn my own body in ways I never even knew existed and to this day use with my current lovers.  No woman had ever sucked him off before and my techniques with him have proven tried and true with others of his ilk.  His cock pounding on my cervix and g-spot taught me how to teach others where to find it.  And his rabidly unjust personality taught me to fight for my rights and to walk away with my chin held high.

I tremble and cum and walk the plank.

Sunday was a big day for me and my heart.  I made love to the man I love for the first time ever.  I said goodbye, I said hello, I turned myself over, and most importantly, I felt solid.  The ship was no longer pitching; I’d found my sea legs.

I worried about him all day.  Was he beating himself up?  Was he freaking out?  I kept busy, occasionally sharing a secret smile with myself and the twittering birds and blooming flowers, secure in the knowledge that I felt righteous and vindicated: he has as little control around me as I do him.

I texted him a couple of times when I knew he’d be watching The Dark Knight for the second time, puttered around town, did some volunteering, wrote my epically long post infused with every nuance and thought I could muster, and generally had a relaxing day.  My calm was genuine, my closure complete.

But I forgot that I live inside the throbbing pages of a dime store smut novel.

Around 7:30, 13 hours after he’d left my apartment that morning his knuckles rapped on my door.  My surprise was genuine, my pleasure greater.  I was dressed in black shorts and a paper-thin white v-neck and nothing else because all dime store smut novel heroines are always scantily clad for pop-over visitors.

He looked dashing and beamed a big smile at me.  “Well, the second time around was actually a little better!”

I poured myself a glass of vino verde and offered him some.  “No, thank you.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to tell you I thought the movie was better a second time around.”

“Ok.  Wanna come out on the balcony with me so we can talk about last night?”

The pool was packed with crispy brown, pot-bellied men and scantily clad co-eds.  Bad music pumped from a poolside boombox and someone was popping a double-helix-looking floating bed like a murderous hacker.  It was weird.

We laughed at our neighbors’ antics and chatted.  He remarked on how one of my nipples was hard, but not the other.  I pinched the lazy one and said, “There, all even.”

“So, how are you doing with everything?” I asked as I sipped my tingly, cool beverage.

He said he was doing great, but he was nervous.  Nervous about me.  I took offense and pointed out that I’d already told him I knew this doesn’t change anything between us; that I still want a commitment and he doesn’t.  “But you’re a woman and women change their minds!”

“I’m not ‘women,’ I’m a woman and I’m the coolest fucking woman you’ve ever met.  I’m fine.  Really.  I already told you this morning that I feel great.  You just proved you’re human.  Welcome to my world!” I laughed and he rolled his eyes with fake irritation.  “Besides, I like this.  It feels like it did in the beginning when we both knew we weren’t going to date, but the sex was awesome.  You were en fuego last night.”

“What does en fuego mean?”

“On fire.”

“Yeah, I kinda was, huh?  You like that bit about me choking the life out of you?”

“You know I did.  You took it to a whole new level for me.  That was one of our best yet.”

“Really??  I think we’ve done better,” the twinkle in his eye gave his teasing away.

And then suddenly there it was, our constant, harping companion: our sexual chemistry.  It sat wedged between us and goaded me into looking at his bulging crotch.  It was huge.  He must have felt it too because he stood up and arranged his erection so the head poked out of his pocket.  I began to vibrate.

“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly.  “You know I’m Pavlov’s dog to that cock of yours.”

“Are you really??  Care to test it?”

“No, not really.”  I looked away.  He stepped closer to me and rubbed himself.  I sighed painfully.  He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled himself out.  It bobbed heavily an inch from my face.  I looked at it, the dusky pink head large and unassuming, its aperture a little slit on the helmet.  “Oh my god,” I groaned.

It hung there between us and I looked at him and away again.  He put it back in his pants and grabbed my wrist for my pulse.  I knew what he’d notice.  “Your heart is beating faster, Hy.”

“No shit.  Could you resist if I whipped out my tits?”

“Doubtful.  But I’m proud of you for resisting.”

I stood up then and wedged myself between him and the banister, my back to the idiots in the pool below.  My heavy breasts eye-level to him a dusty shadow beneath the white cotton.  He looked at me with his icy blue eyes and I pulled my left breast out.  Without hesitation he fell on my nipple.  His beautiful face smashed into the swell of white, his stubble a masculine contrast to my softness.  He suckled and pulled and I moaned.  He opened his eyes and looked at me.  I closed my eyes and pulled his head into me, caressed his neck.

He broke contact and I righted my shirt and sat back down.  “Come here,” I commanded and pointed to the spot at my feet.  He stood and I grabbed his ass and pulled his groin to me and traced my teeth on his bulge.  I cupped the tip in his pocket with my mouth and my hot breath enveloped him.  “Take it out,” I murmured.

In my hands, bared to me in all its glory, I took him in my mouth, the laughter from the pool our pornographic soundtrack.  He fucked my face as I lapped and sucked, lost in the deepest of pleasures.

“Are you wet?” he asked breaking our reverie.

“I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go to bed.”

We walked into my apartment and he peeled off his boots and tossed them by the front door.  “Where did that condom on the floor come from?” I asked.  I’d found one on the floor that morning, but I hadn’t remembered him grabbing one from my drawer.

“I brought it over.”

“But you said you didn’t come over because you wanted to get laid.”

“I didn’t.  I went out with 4 am girl last night.  But don’t worry, we’re never going to sleep together.  We’re not together.”  He pulled his shirt out of his pants and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, really??”  This explained the lack of his guilty conscience for cheating on her with me.

“Yeah.  But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t either.”

He closed the distance between us and gently pushed me towards my room with a smile and followed me in.  I fell to my knees and worshiped his cock with my mouth.  He peeled the rest of his clothes off and mine, and hauled me up to my feet and shoved me back onto my bed sideways.  He spread my knees and made his favorite new joke, “You think you’re wet enough?” just before ramming into my juicy  hole.

I never took my eyes off of him.  I met his lustful gaze with each thrust as he looked down on me.  We kissed passionately again and again and he’d break away to look at me some more.  Our bodies ground hard against each other, “Fuck, your pussy is perfect,” he groaned and kissed me again.

He pumped into me and grunts and pants expelled from my lungs uncontrollably.  I squeezed his buttocks and spanked his flanks.  Sweat pricked between us as I made love to him again with every muscle and fiber.  I gripped the sheets and strained against them to pound back against him.

He leaned back on his haunches and handed me my Hitachi wand.  I arched my back up to grind down on him as far as I could.  “Jesus Christ, that’s hot,” he said gazing down on me.  With one hand gripping my sheets for purchase, my hips locked up high on his waist and my torso arched up off the bed I put the wand to my clit.

I watched him watching me, his gaze heavy and heated.  I was doing that to him.  Me.  How much had I missed all these months by hiding behind closed eyes??

My orgasm was swirling up through my limbs and creeping down from the crown of my head.  He was flexing his cock inside of me and swiveling his hips stretching my hole as I remained arched up, locked to him like a mating bug.  I exploded around him and shook and came harder than ever before, my release from hope feeding into my body’s release, raw and human.

He leaned over me and began to move again, kissed me hard and deep.  Then he pulled out and dragged me to the edge of the bed and stood up, his cock the perfect height to my cunt.  He handed me the vibrator again.

“I don’t think I can do this.  I’m already lost,” I whispered.

“You can and you will,” he countered.

He moved inside of me with his hands on my knees splaying me apart.  I was completely exposed to him in the bright daylight.  My climb to climax was bracketed in my mind by his paws on my knees holding me open.  He owned me.  The bomb went off a minute or two later and he pumped hard as I did.  He thrust one last time and kissed me on my head as I slithered to my feet and stood up.

I was a boneless mass.

I flung myself down on my bed and he lay down next to me.  I didn’t know my name or the day of the week.  I shook and sobbed dry little cries of pleasure as he chuckled at me and began to gather his things.  “TN, what the fuck?” I said into my mattress.

“Hy, c’mere.”  He hauled me to my feet and stood me in front of my floor length mirror.  My body was rosy and my breasts hung heavy and full.  My cheeks were flushed, my eyes glazed, my hair a ridiculous rat’s nest.  “That’s one fucked woman right there.”  I groaned for the effort of standing up and fell back on the bed.

“Come on, Hy, let’s go sit on the balcony.”  He dragged me up again and I gingerly put on some clothes.  My arms weighed 100lbs and I couldn’t think.  I poured myself another glass of vine verde and my hand trembled as I poured.  He watched my efforts and I began to cry.

“Fuck!” I hiccuped.  I was completely overwhelmed with hormones and climax and love.

He laughed and took my hand and led me outside.  I lit a cigarette and tried to gather my wits as he looked smug and sadistic.  He was wholly proud of himself.  I don’t blame him, really.  I’d be proud if I reduced someone to a fucking puddle of nonsense.

“This really feels like square one again,” I remarked.

“Yeah, it does.  I really like it.”

“Me, too.”

Then he stood to leave and I walked him to the door.  He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly and kissed me deeply.

I recovered fully about 30 minutes later, still happy, still sound.

He came over last night, too.  He texted at a little past 11:30 and wanted to know if I was bored.  I said no, but he could come over anyway and give me a hand with something.  I crawled out of bed and met him at the door.  He was in just shorts.  He brushed against my breasts and I reminded him Peyton was home.  He backed away quickly.

“It’s ok.  Peyton’s asleep.  Don’t worry.  Here, you can help me make my bed.”  I bent over to pull out clean linens from the dryer and he grabbed my hips and pulled me against him.  I laughed and went to my room.  We made my bed while chatting and then he crawled in.

“So what are you doing here?” I asked again.

“I was thinking I wanted a blowjob, but now I don’t.  I just want to talk and hang out.”

“Well, isn’t that nice?” I said sarcastically, but with a laugh.  The truth was I wasn’t feeling well and I was exhausted.  I had no intention of fucking him or sucking him.

We cuddled and talked for an hour.  He asked me how my day was and he told me about his.  I told him he was doing a great job with texting me back.

“Yeah, a whole 4 days,” he said with chagrin and an eye roll.

“Well, it’s better than you’ve ever done before and I appreciate it.  It’s like a real fucking friend finally!”

“I don’t know why I do that sometimes.  I’m sorry.  I just get caught up in my work sometimes.”

“Well, I still appreciate your efforts.”

“No problem.”

At 1 am we were both beginning to doze.  I’d run my fingers through his chest hair, and occasionally fondled him while he massaged my breasts or ran his fingers along my arm.  I felt languid and at peace.

“Well, I better go.”

I walked him to the door and he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me.  I pulled him close and closed my eyes reveling in his lips and tongue on mine.  He gave me a squeeze then set me apart.

“Goodnight.  Have sweet dreams,” I said.

“You, too.”

And there you have it.  Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.  All him.  All of it.

I’ll say it again: I don’t care what happens to us anymore, I really don’t.  But this man loves me, is in love with me.  No one will convince me otherwise.  He may never admit it to himself, he may never commit to me, he may never take this where I know it could go, or where I deserve, but that’s his problem at this point.  His loss.  I don’t feel like I’m losing anything.  I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of this like I should have from the start.

I’ve thought a lot about what it is I’m doing, how I’d feel if 4 am girl re-entered the picture, how I’d feel if he started dating someone else and I can sense nothing but a gentle calm in me.  My heart jerks a little at the thought of being in that place again, and then it settles back down and I am once again in control of my destiny.

Can I do this?   I don’t know, but I guess I’ll be finding out.  We are friends.  Friends who love each other and have amazing sex and who love to hang out with each other.  That isn’t so bad, is it?  I’ll continue to protect Peyton from him as necessary, but Peyton digs TN and TN really digs Peyton.  Particularly since I called him on all his bullshit.  I’m failing to see clearly.  I know.

A dear friend of mine recently said, “Maybe you guys just started too soon…”

Maybe she’s right.  Maybe it’s all a mistake.  Maybe it just is.