Sorry I've been so lazy about posting these days, but it is Summer, and what is Summer for if not laziness?
It's certainly about ripe fruit with sticky juices, sweat-soaked sheets, and a little extra swing in my hips as I go about my day in a short skirt. Not to mention mojitos and margaritas on rooftop bars.
Summer is also for fucking al fresco, and I must say, dear readers, I've got that covered. In the past few weeks I've found myself risking charges of public indecency more than once.
The first time I found myself in the woods that surrounded festival grounds while a well known country singer played in the background. (Don't ask. I don't understand how I end up in these situations myself.)
Next up was a walk along the river following a delicious dinner with two large Maker's Marks. It didn't take long for my skirt to be lifted up around my waist as I bent over the safety railing underneath a very famous bridge.
Most recently, a very lovely first date with good conversation, good beer, and good tapas, was finished with some very good fucking. Very good fucking in the condo construction site a block away from my apartment building. Some lucky person on the second floor will move into an already christened unit.
This, my friends, is why it is a good idea to always take condoms along when going out.
Right now I'm ready to go out to get some condoms at Pride and later tonight I'll probably be picking up some dental dams at the Dyke March.
As I march with the crowd of women escorted by beautiful butches on bikes, you know I'll be wearing my "Drunk Straight Girl" label with pride. Because if queer, dyke, and fag can all be reclaimed as sources of strength, then I will reclaim the slur that is often tossed in the direction of girls like me.
I explained this to Jefferson a little while ago and he asked, "If you're a drunk straight girl, does that make you a sober bisexual?"
In any case, I'm going to slather on some sunscreen and head over to the park.
23 June 2007
14 June 2007
Exchange On the Train
It was 5:30 in the afternoon and the sun was perfectly warm on my skin. I was waiting for the train and smoking a cigarette.
“Hey, can I possibly get a cigarette from you?” A guy with dark sunglasses asked.
“Of course.”
I smiled and dug around in my bag.
“Thanks.”
He pulled a Bic out from his pocket and lit it.
“God, I’ve needed that all day,” he exhaled.
We chatted and established that he was headed home after a long shift at a restaurant a few blocks away. A woman threw toast at him that morning because her eggs were cooked wrong. I shared one of my own table waiting horror stories.
We chatted some more and established that I was on my way to the airport.
“Flying out?”
“Yup.”
I revealed no more information than necessary.
“Where are you going to?”
“New York.”
He told me that he has always wanted to go there, and that actually, his roommate had just gotten back from NYC.
When the train arrived we boarded and he sat across the aisle from me.
“So, when are you going to be back?”
“On Wednesday.”
“That’s a short trip.”
“Well, the friend that I’m going to visit has joint custody of his kids with his ex-wife, so we have to plan our trips around his parenting schedule,” I explained.
If he hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, I’m sure that I would have seen him wink.
“Ohh,” he said, “It’s that kind of trip. I see what you’ve got going on.”
I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. There ain’t no shame in my game. Besides, if he only knew the half of it…
A moment later he told me: “I was riding the train home from work last night and these swingers asked me to come home with them. I thought about it, but you know…”
“Were they cute?” I asked.
“She was, but I’m just not really into dudes.”
We were quiet for a minute.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, maybe sometime in the future,” he said.
“Well, if you ever get the chance again I would suggest you give it a try. It’s really a good time,” I said and smiled.
Surprisingly, our conversation trailed off after that. Suddenly he had several important text messages to send.
He got off a few stops later.
It wasn’t too much longer and I was at the airport, ready to board my plane.
“Hey, can I possibly get a cigarette from you?” A guy with dark sunglasses asked.
“Of course.”
I smiled and dug around in my bag.
“Thanks.”
He pulled a Bic out from his pocket and lit it.
“God, I’ve needed that all day,” he exhaled.
We chatted and established that he was headed home after a long shift at a restaurant a few blocks away. A woman threw toast at him that morning because her eggs were cooked wrong. I shared one of my own table waiting horror stories.
We chatted some more and established that I was on my way to the airport.
“Flying out?”
“Yup.”
I revealed no more information than necessary.
“Where are you going to?”
“New York.”
He told me that he has always wanted to go there, and that actually, his roommate had just gotten back from NYC.
When the train arrived we boarded and he sat across the aisle from me.
“So, when are you going to be back?”
“On Wednesday.”
“That’s a short trip.”
“Well, the friend that I’m going to visit has joint custody of his kids with his ex-wife, so we have to plan our trips around his parenting schedule,” I explained.
If he hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, I’m sure that I would have seen him wink.
“Ohh,” he said, “It’s that kind of trip. I see what you’ve got going on.”
I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. There ain’t no shame in my game. Besides, if he only knew the half of it…
A moment later he told me: “I was riding the train home from work last night and these swingers asked me to come home with them. I thought about it, but you know…”
“Were they cute?” I asked.
“She was, but I’m just not really into dudes.”
We were quiet for a minute.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, maybe sometime in the future,” he said.
“Well, if you ever get the chance again I would suggest you give it a try. It’s really a good time,” I said and smiled.
Surprisingly, our conversation trailed off after that. Suddenly he had several important text messages to send.
He got off a few stops later.
It wasn’t too much longer and I was at the airport, ready to board my plane.
13 June 2007
Conquest
While I was getting ready for the party, I was kind of nervous. It was an apartment warming party for some friends, and there was a possibility that a certain crush of mine was going to be there. I was dressed in my “butchiest femme you know” best: button-down shirt, red silk tie, Converse, and dangly earrings. Before I went I picked up a bottle of red wine as a gift. I was ready.
Once at the apartment, I walked into the kitchen and greeted the hosts, presenting them with the wine, and settled myself with a drink. He was there, leaning casually against the sink. We acknowledged each other before I joined in a conversation with some friends.
Sometimes I’m so cool it hurts.
Eventually I made my way over to him and we began chatting. He complimented both my earrings and my tie. I had a story to tell him, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, given the presence of another guest. Finally, in an effort to keep the conversation from stalling, I plunged in.
“So, there was almost a disaster Friday morning,” I told him.
Already used to my penchant for exaggeration and theatrics when storytelling, he replied with a slightly mocking, “Oh really?”
“Oh yes. See, I woke up a little after nine and I had to pee. I figured that since Ruby was already at work, you would be gone too, so I didn’t bother to get dressed when I got up. But then right after I went back to bed I heard you moving around and then I heard Ruby freaking out about being late for work. Shit, that was close!”
All of this was told with dramatic pauses and excessive gesturing, because I was the star of the show, the center of attention, and I would not be ignored: I was flirting.
We laughed, and Ruby, on the other side of the kitchen, joined in.
“Oh man, I’m sorry that I missed that,” Mr. Almost Forty said.
Remember Mr. Almost Forty?
The thing is, I didn’t really fully explain our situation. To make the story as uncomplicated as possible, let’s just say that the two of us fuck roommates. It has happened that he is in one bedroom of the apartment fucking one roommate, Ruby, while I am in the bedroom on the other side of the bathroom fucking the other roommate. Yes, we have heard each other’s sex noises.
And that night in the basement? It was these particular roommates’ basement that we were in.
I guess I might have been bit harsh.
Now, here we were, Ruby, Nick, (Mr. Almost Forty) and I, all at the same party, with alcohol flowing abundantly.
I was in top form that night and I floated around between groups of people that I knew and groups of people that I didn’t, chatting, telling stories, getting fired up about politics, and making people laugh.
At some point, I was sitting on the sofa, talking with some people, when Nick wandered into the room and after engaging in our conversation for a moment, continued his wandering out to the terrace.
I waited an appropriate length of time before getting a cigarette from my pack and going out on the terrace myself.
“I was hoping you’d come out here,” Nick said.
“I was hoping you’d be alone out here,” I said.
It only took a minute for us to begin kissing intensely, each of us with a gin and tonic in a plastic cup in one hand. His free hand was on the small of my back and my free hand wrapped around his shoulder.
We took occasional breaks from kissing to talk.
“I’m sorry I freaked out that night in the basement,” he said.
“It’s ok. I understand,” I said while inwardly smirking about my blog post.
“I’ve been thinking about you ever since. I was so hoping that you’d be here tonight.”
“Me too.”
“I want to go home with you tonight.”
“Mmm, yes, I think that’s a great idea, but I have to get up early and do laundry. I’m going out of town tomorrow.”
“Where to?”
I told him about my upcoming trip.
We decided that we should take our leave separately so as not to start rumors or hurt feelings. Both of us had lost our ability to drive a few drinks earlier so he told me that he would call for a car.
“Hey guys. What’s up?” One of our hosts popped her head out onto the terrace.
“Nothin’ really. Just talking,” Nick said and casually wandered inside.
I smoked another cigarette before going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer.
Nick quietly sidled up to me.
“A town car will be meeting us at one at the pizza joint down the street.”
I joined my friends on the back steps while I finished my beer, rejoining their conversation, and then quickly took my leave with the next day’s trip as my excuse.
It was a windy night and I shivered a little as I walked quickly down the street. I was bleary with alcohol and the traffic signals, neon signs, headlights all mixed together, shimmering and shaking. It was a suspiciously accurate externalization of my internal state.
A few minutes later Nick joined me and moments later we were in the back of the car on our way to his place. Neither of us could have told you the route that the driver took to Nick’s house because we were making out like teenagers the moment we settled into the leather seats.
As soon as I was in his room and naked he had me on my knees on the overstuffed armchair, half bent over the back. He knelt behind me, and spreading my ass cheeks apart, he lowered his mouth to me. His tongue however ignored my pussy and went straight for my asshole. A brave first move.
Fortunately, I was more than happy to have my asshole tongued.
Nick reached down and pulled a condom out of his jeans pocket. Rolling it on, he joined me on the chair. I was still bent over the back, and he pushed his cock into me.
That first moment of penetration, when a cock first starts to nudge into me (or is roughly shoved into me, as the case may be) is always a moment of sharp, heightened-senses excitement. With a new partner, and particularly with one that I want as much as I wanted Nick that night, the excitement increases tenfold.
I’m not sure I stopped moaning the entire time that he was fucking me on that chair.
After he came, we finally made it to the bed where he rolled on a new condom and continued fucking me.
And fuck me he did. My pussy, my ass, me on my back, him on his back, me on my knees, him standing at the side of the bed, my fingers and tongue in his asshole, his fingers and tongue in my asshole, cock sucking, pussy licking: it all blurs together now. It was a little bit like a gang bang for two. In Nick, I may have met my match.
It was dirty and he was sweet.
“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl,” he whispered to me when I came, stroking my hair.
By the time he came in my ass the second time, we were a sweaty, sticky mess, and girl juices and lube were everywhere. It was five in the morning, and the sky was getting light, the birds were chirping.
Nick suggested a shower and I readily agreed. He washed my hair for me and gently soaped the rest of my body for me.
Back in bed, we wrapped ourselves around each other.
“Tell me a story. Something from your past,” I requested.
He did, and that’s how we fell asleep.
We awoke a few hours later and had sex again. Twice. Our mutual condom supply was exhausted at that point and I really had to get home to prepare for my trip.
I rescued my clothes from the floor and Nick cleaned up the condoms from their hastily discarded locations on the floor. Really, it looked like there had been a small orgy the night before.
When he dropped me off at my car he gave me his card and asked me to call him when I got back in town. I happily agreed.
As I walked up and down the seemingly endless flights of stairs between my third-floor apartment and the basement laundry room, the exhaustion was almost overwhelming.
Jesus Christ, I thought, I’m supposed to come home from New York feeling broken, not arrive there feeling broken.
Once at the apartment, I walked into the kitchen and greeted the hosts, presenting them with the wine, and settled myself with a drink. He was there, leaning casually against the sink. We acknowledged each other before I joined in a conversation with some friends.
Sometimes I’m so cool it hurts.
Eventually I made my way over to him and we began chatting. He complimented both my earrings and my tie. I had a story to tell him, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, given the presence of another guest. Finally, in an effort to keep the conversation from stalling, I plunged in.
“So, there was almost a disaster Friday morning,” I told him.
Already used to my penchant for exaggeration and theatrics when storytelling, he replied with a slightly mocking, “Oh really?”
“Oh yes. See, I woke up a little after nine and I had to pee. I figured that since Ruby was already at work, you would be gone too, so I didn’t bother to get dressed when I got up. But then right after I went back to bed I heard you moving around and then I heard Ruby freaking out about being late for work. Shit, that was close!”
All of this was told with dramatic pauses and excessive gesturing, because I was the star of the show, the center of attention, and I would not be ignored: I was flirting.
We laughed, and Ruby, on the other side of the kitchen, joined in.
“Oh man, I’m sorry that I missed that,” Mr. Almost Forty said.
Remember Mr. Almost Forty?
The thing is, I didn’t really fully explain our situation. To make the story as uncomplicated as possible, let’s just say that the two of us fuck roommates. It has happened that he is in one bedroom of the apartment fucking one roommate, Ruby, while I am in the bedroom on the other side of the bathroom fucking the other roommate. Yes, we have heard each other’s sex noises.
And that night in the basement? It was these particular roommates’ basement that we were in.
I guess I might have been bit harsh.
Now, here we were, Ruby, Nick, (Mr. Almost Forty) and I, all at the same party, with alcohol flowing abundantly.
I was in top form that night and I floated around between groups of people that I knew and groups of people that I didn’t, chatting, telling stories, getting fired up about politics, and making people laugh.
At some point, I was sitting on the sofa, talking with some people, when Nick wandered into the room and after engaging in our conversation for a moment, continued his wandering out to the terrace.
I waited an appropriate length of time before getting a cigarette from my pack and going out on the terrace myself.
“I was hoping you’d come out here,” Nick said.
“I was hoping you’d be alone out here,” I said.
It only took a minute for us to begin kissing intensely, each of us with a gin and tonic in a plastic cup in one hand. His free hand was on the small of my back and my free hand wrapped around his shoulder.
We took occasional breaks from kissing to talk.
“I’m sorry I freaked out that night in the basement,” he said.
“It’s ok. I understand,” I said while inwardly smirking about my blog post.
“I’ve been thinking about you ever since. I was so hoping that you’d be here tonight.”
“Me too.”
“I want to go home with you tonight.”
“Mmm, yes, I think that’s a great idea, but I have to get up early and do laundry. I’m going out of town tomorrow.”
“Where to?”
I told him about my upcoming trip.
We decided that we should take our leave separately so as not to start rumors or hurt feelings. Both of us had lost our ability to drive a few drinks earlier so he told me that he would call for a car.
“Hey guys. What’s up?” One of our hosts popped her head out onto the terrace.
“Nothin’ really. Just talking,” Nick said and casually wandered inside.
I smoked another cigarette before going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer.
Nick quietly sidled up to me.
“A town car will be meeting us at one at the pizza joint down the street.”
I joined my friends on the back steps while I finished my beer, rejoining their conversation, and then quickly took my leave with the next day’s trip as my excuse.
It was a windy night and I shivered a little as I walked quickly down the street. I was bleary with alcohol and the traffic signals, neon signs, headlights all mixed together, shimmering and shaking. It was a suspiciously accurate externalization of my internal state.
A few minutes later Nick joined me and moments later we were in the back of the car on our way to his place. Neither of us could have told you the route that the driver took to Nick’s house because we were making out like teenagers the moment we settled into the leather seats.
As soon as I was in his room and naked he had me on my knees on the overstuffed armchair, half bent over the back. He knelt behind me, and spreading my ass cheeks apart, he lowered his mouth to me. His tongue however ignored my pussy and went straight for my asshole. A brave first move.
Fortunately, I was more than happy to have my asshole tongued.
Nick reached down and pulled a condom out of his jeans pocket. Rolling it on, he joined me on the chair. I was still bent over the back, and he pushed his cock into me.
That first moment of penetration, when a cock first starts to nudge into me (or is roughly shoved into me, as the case may be) is always a moment of sharp, heightened-senses excitement. With a new partner, and particularly with one that I want as much as I wanted Nick that night, the excitement increases tenfold.
I’m not sure I stopped moaning the entire time that he was fucking me on that chair.
After he came, we finally made it to the bed where he rolled on a new condom and continued fucking me.
And fuck me he did. My pussy, my ass, me on my back, him on his back, me on my knees, him standing at the side of the bed, my fingers and tongue in his asshole, his fingers and tongue in my asshole, cock sucking, pussy licking: it all blurs together now. It was a little bit like a gang bang for two. In Nick, I may have met my match.
It was dirty and he was sweet.
“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl,” he whispered to me when I came, stroking my hair.
By the time he came in my ass the second time, we were a sweaty, sticky mess, and girl juices and lube were everywhere. It was five in the morning, and the sky was getting light, the birds were chirping.
Nick suggested a shower and I readily agreed. He washed my hair for me and gently soaped the rest of my body for me.
Back in bed, we wrapped ourselves around each other.
“Tell me a story. Something from your past,” I requested.
He did, and that’s how we fell asleep.
We awoke a few hours later and had sex again. Twice. Our mutual condom supply was exhausted at that point and I really had to get home to prepare for my trip.
I rescued my clothes from the floor and Nick cleaned up the condoms from their hastily discarded locations on the floor. Really, it looked like there had been a small orgy the night before.
When he dropped me off at my car he gave me his card and asked me to call him when I got back in town. I happily agreed.
As I walked up and down the seemingly endless flights of stairs between my third-floor apartment and the basement laundry room, the exhaustion was almost overwhelming.
Jesus Christ, I thought, I’m supposed to come home from New York feeling broken, not arrive there feeling broken.
09 June 2007
Anna Gets a New Fuck Buddy
By the time I moved out of my hometown three years ago, I had very nearly exhausted my sexual possibilities. Within a decade-wide age span every new fuck of mine was someone’s best friend, cousin, or old roommate. Sex had become a tangled mess of relationships, a mess that at nineteen I had no ability to manage in any meaningful way. I was alienating friends and lovers like crazy.
Shortly after I moved to my current location, The Ex and I started dating. For two years, we were in a monogamous relationship and I was relieved that even as I lost my anonymity in this city, it didn’t involve sexual awkwardness.
Now that I’ve been single for nearly a year, this city is shrinking. Some of this is simply the nature of forming relationships, meeting people through friends, and having daily routines and regular hangouts. But if you remember the story of PunkRock Boy, you’ll remember that our completely random meeting resulted in the discovery of mutual friends.
Tangles and messes are beginning to pop up.
Shortly after I broke up with The Ex last summer I slept with a coworker of mine, Derek. It never happened again, we never talked about it, and we never had any problems or awkwardness at work. Overall, it was an ideal NSA arrangement.
The office that we worked in was a tight crew of people, and after I quit that job in February, I maintained friendships with many of my former coworkers.
These friendships included one with June. She had long harbored a crush on Derek. Sometime after they finally fucked, things fell apart. June maintained that Derek had treated her like shit, although from my understanding of the situation, what had actually transpired was a lack of communication about expectations and June’s refusal to admit that she was hoping for more than a one-night stand.
In the resulting drama, it came out that Derek and I had had sex. June confronted me, we talked about it, and she and I were on good terms, she and Derek were ok too. Derek and I never talked about it, as there really wasn’t any need to.
So, a couple of months later, what did I do? I fucked him again.
It was a Sunday afternoon and there had been a big block party/street fair that a group of my former coworkers and I had attended. Afterwards we went out for drinks, eight of us crammed into a big restaurant booth. I caught up on all the good news: June was in love with a guy she’d met at a festival, Linds’s employer did not have a job for me, and Molly, Derek and I are all still scared of babies. When I left after two margaritas, to head to another party, Derek asked if he could get a ride home. I agreed.
As we walked to my car, he apologized for his role in all of the drama that had gone down. I appreciated this as being smushed between him and June in a booth had been just a little bit awkward.
As I drove him home he began to hint quietly.
“I mean, you have to admit, the sexual tension between us was always fun,” he said.
“Yes, yes it was,” I agreed.
When I didn’t bite, he got bolder: “So, I’m going to be blunt: Do you really want to go to that other party, or do you want to get together with me?”
“No, I don’t really want to go to that party, and yes, I do want to have sex with you.”
“You live by yourself, right?”
“Yup.”
“Then let’s go to your place.”
“Sure, but now it’s my turn to be blunt: my apartment is a complete fucking mess and I’m on the rag.”
“So? That’s fine with me.”
Despite the potentially very un-adult consequences of our hook up, or negotiation was very low-key and breezy, maybe even mature.
At my apartment, I invited him to choose some music while I poured us bourbons.
He put on Beck’s Midnight Vultures.
“Didn’t we fuck to this last time?” I asked.
He suggested that we fuck in the shower, so I excused myself to start the water. When I returned I was wearing nothing but my camisole.
I joined him on my bed and we kissed, our arms wrapped around each other. His lips and tongue were firm and there wasn’t too much saliva. He kissed perfectly for a casual encounter. (Oh god, Craigslist has clearly invaded my brain.)
When we finally made it to the shower, I turned to face him.
“Um, I actually haven’t had sex in a shower since high school…”
My voice trailed off, an indication that I wasn’t sure how to proceed.
He put his hands on my hips and turned me around so that my back was to him. I leaned over, sticking my ass out, resting my hands against the wall. He grasped my hips firmly and stuck his cock in me.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned.
He was bigger than I remembered.
I adjusted myself for a better angle, placing my hands on the edge of the claw-foot bathtub, causing my ass to stick up even higher in the air.
I like to think that one of the benefits of having a nice ass is that it inspires people I fuck to spank me, although I’m sure that in reality this is just a standard move in most men’s sexual repertoire.
The sound and the sensation of Derek’s hand smacking against my ass was especially exciting with the water mixed in and the sound reverberating off the bathroom walls. I moaned especially loud to indicate that he should continue.
The water temperature in my bathtub is tricky to maintain, and so after awhile it was too hot. We reconvened on my bed without toweling off, and our bodies were slippery and my hair was dripping in Derek’s face as I rode him.
The windows next to my bed were open and the shades were pulled open. I’m sure that the people in the building across the street got an eyeful as well as an earful as I came in loud shrieks, clawing at Derek’s chest.
He slowed his movements as I shuddered around him. Panting heavily and laughing slightly, I laid my head on his chest to relax for a few minutes before I slowly, slowly began to move my hips again, grinding against him.
Derek began with the dirty talk, all “my big hard cock this” and “your tight, wet pussy that.”
I joined in.
“Mmm, you make me feel like such a slut,” I murmured.
He stopped, and looked at me quite seriously.
“But, in a good way, right?” He asked in the most sincere way.
Oh, dear, sweet boy. My heart went ping! at this sentiment.
“Yes, yes,” I assured him, running my thumb against his wet brow.
He insisted that I come again, so I did, and minutes later he came too. I could feel his cock pulsing inside of me, even through the condom, and my post-orgasmic cunt contracted slightly around him.
At this point sweat had mingled in with the bathwater and we lay close to the open windows smoking cigarettes.
“Hi neighbors,” I joked.
Our post-coital conversation drifted lazily with our cigarette smoke, as I told him stories of my recent exploits and we compared sexual experience notes.
“We should do this more often,” he said.
“Yes, yes we should.”
“I mean like everyday.”
“Um, no, my schedule is far too full for that,” I laughed.
“Every other day?”
“Three days a week, tops. And you have to understand that I’ll need the occasional weekend off.”
When I dropped him off at his apartment a little bit later, I looked at the clock. It had been two hours, start to finish, and I had a new fuck buddy.
Let the mess begin.
Shortly after I moved to my current location, The Ex and I started dating. For two years, we were in a monogamous relationship and I was relieved that even as I lost my anonymity in this city, it didn’t involve sexual awkwardness.
Now that I’ve been single for nearly a year, this city is shrinking. Some of this is simply the nature of forming relationships, meeting people through friends, and having daily routines and regular hangouts. But if you remember the story of PunkRock Boy, you’ll remember that our completely random meeting resulted in the discovery of mutual friends.
Tangles and messes are beginning to pop up.
Shortly after I broke up with The Ex last summer I slept with a coworker of mine, Derek. It never happened again, we never talked about it, and we never had any problems or awkwardness at work. Overall, it was an ideal NSA arrangement.
The office that we worked in was a tight crew of people, and after I quit that job in February, I maintained friendships with many of my former coworkers.
These friendships included one with June. She had long harbored a crush on Derek. Sometime after they finally fucked, things fell apart. June maintained that Derek had treated her like shit, although from my understanding of the situation, what had actually transpired was a lack of communication about expectations and June’s refusal to admit that she was hoping for more than a one-night stand.
In the resulting drama, it came out that Derek and I had had sex. June confronted me, we talked about it, and she and I were on good terms, she and Derek were ok too. Derek and I never talked about it, as there really wasn’t any need to.
So, a couple of months later, what did I do? I fucked him again.
It was a Sunday afternoon and there had been a big block party/street fair that a group of my former coworkers and I had attended. Afterwards we went out for drinks, eight of us crammed into a big restaurant booth. I caught up on all the good news: June was in love with a guy she’d met at a festival, Linds’s employer did not have a job for me, and Molly, Derek and I are all still scared of babies. When I left after two margaritas, to head to another party, Derek asked if he could get a ride home. I agreed.
As we walked to my car, he apologized for his role in all of the drama that had gone down. I appreciated this as being smushed between him and June in a booth had been just a little bit awkward.
As I drove him home he began to hint quietly.
“I mean, you have to admit, the sexual tension between us was always fun,” he said.
“Yes, yes it was,” I agreed.
When I didn’t bite, he got bolder: “So, I’m going to be blunt: Do you really want to go to that other party, or do you want to get together with me?”
“No, I don’t really want to go to that party, and yes, I do want to have sex with you.”
“You live by yourself, right?”
“Yup.”
“Then let’s go to your place.”
“Sure, but now it’s my turn to be blunt: my apartment is a complete fucking mess and I’m on the rag.”
“So? That’s fine with me.”
Despite the potentially very un-adult consequences of our hook up, or negotiation was very low-key and breezy, maybe even mature.
At my apartment, I invited him to choose some music while I poured us bourbons.
He put on Beck’s Midnight Vultures.
“Didn’t we fuck to this last time?” I asked.
He suggested that we fuck in the shower, so I excused myself to start the water. When I returned I was wearing nothing but my camisole.
I joined him on my bed and we kissed, our arms wrapped around each other. His lips and tongue were firm and there wasn’t too much saliva. He kissed perfectly for a casual encounter. (Oh god, Craigslist has clearly invaded my brain.)
When we finally made it to the shower, I turned to face him.
“Um, I actually haven’t had sex in a shower since high school…”
My voice trailed off, an indication that I wasn’t sure how to proceed.
He put his hands on my hips and turned me around so that my back was to him. I leaned over, sticking my ass out, resting my hands against the wall. He grasped my hips firmly and stuck his cock in me.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned.
He was bigger than I remembered.
I adjusted myself for a better angle, placing my hands on the edge of the claw-foot bathtub, causing my ass to stick up even higher in the air.
I like to think that one of the benefits of having a nice ass is that it inspires people I fuck to spank me, although I’m sure that in reality this is just a standard move in most men’s sexual repertoire.
The sound and the sensation of Derek’s hand smacking against my ass was especially exciting with the water mixed in and the sound reverberating off the bathroom walls. I moaned especially loud to indicate that he should continue.
The water temperature in my bathtub is tricky to maintain, and so after awhile it was too hot. We reconvened on my bed without toweling off, and our bodies were slippery and my hair was dripping in Derek’s face as I rode him.
The windows next to my bed were open and the shades were pulled open. I’m sure that the people in the building across the street got an eyeful as well as an earful as I came in loud shrieks, clawing at Derek’s chest.
He slowed his movements as I shuddered around him. Panting heavily and laughing slightly, I laid my head on his chest to relax for a few minutes before I slowly, slowly began to move my hips again, grinding against him.
Derek began with the dirty talk, all “my big hard cock this” and “your tight, wet pussy that.”
I joined in.
“Mmm, you make me feel like such a slut,” I murmured.
He stopped, and looked at me quite seriously.
“But, in a good way, right?” He asked in the most sincere way.
Oh, dear, sweet boy. My heart went ping! at this sentiment.
“Yes, yes,” I assured him, running my thumb against his wet brow.
He insisted that I come again, so I did, and minutes later he came too. I could feel his cock pulsing inside of me, even through the condom, and my post-orgasmic cunt contracted slightly around him.
At this point sweat had mingled in with the bathwater and we lay close to the open windows smoking cigarettes.
“Hi neighbors,” I joked.
Our post-coital conversation drifted lazily with our cigarette smoke, as I told him stories of my recent exploits and we compared sexual experience notes.
“We should do this more often,” he said.
“Yes, yes we should.”
“I mean like everyday.”
“Um, no, my schedule is far too full for that,” I laughed.
“Every other day?”
“Three days a week, tops. And you have to understand that I’ll need the occasional weekend off.”
When I dropped him off at his apartment a little bit later, I looked at the clock. It had been two hours, start to finish, and I had a new fuck buddy.
Let the mess begin.
01 June 2007
Quiet Night In
A couple of blocks from the bachelorette pad, there is an excellent video rental store. It is an independent shop, with a prodigious selection.
One of the reasons I love going there is because they mix the regular new releases in with the soft core porn new releases. If, for example, you were looking for the Diane Arbus not-too-accurate bio-pic, Fur, two cases down you would find the even more tantalizing option, The G-String Show, which promises girls both Asian and bad.
Tonight my love for the store reached a new high, however. As I was browsing the cult classics section, I saw shelved there, Annie Sprinkle's Female Genital Massage. In the cult classics section!
I hope that you all have a great weekend. As for me, tonight's going to be a quiet night in with Shortbus and a bourbon.
One of the reasons I love going there is because they mix the regular new releases in with the soft core porn new releases. If, for example, you were looking for the Diane Arbus not-too-accurate bio-pic, Fur, two cases down you would find the even more tantalizing option, The G-String Show, which promises girls both Asian and bad.
Tonight my love for the store reached a new high, however. As I was browsing the cult classics section, I saw shelved there, Annie Sprinkle's Female Genital Massage. In the cult classics section!
I hope that you all have a great weekend. As for me, tonight's going to be a quiet night in with Shortbus and a bourbon.
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