Wrigleyville was crowded for a non-game night. The sidewalks were packed as Molly and I approached the bar, just south of Wrigley Field on Clark Street. We loved coming to Sluggers on Saturday nights for $1 Jell-O shots and the dueling pianos show, followed by dancing in the downstairs bar area, or hanging around at the batting cages. 

Somehow, we’d arrived early for once, so we got some drinks downstairs while we waited for the show to start and for the rest of our friends to arrive. We made our way to the bar through the already fairly dense crowd, and Molly offered to get our first round of drinks. When the bartender got to us, I heard Molly yell in our go-to orders: Corona and lime for her, and a screwdriver for me. Then she was adding on two double tequila shots before I could object, not that I would have bothered, anyway. I just laughed as the bartender whipped up our drinks. 

When the shots were poured, we got set up by each licking a spot on our hands, and then sprinkling on some salt from the small dish the bartender slid over to us. Molly picked up both shots from the bar and turned to hand me one. “To big ships and small ships…” she started, cueing me with our usual toast. 

“But the best ships are friendships,” I finished cheerily. 

We clinked our shot glasses together gently, licked the salt from our hands in unison, and then threw back the shots, following immediately with lime wedges that the bartender had laid out on a napkin. I scrunched up my face and shivered as the familiar tingle rushed through me. 

As we hung out near the bar, drinking and joking around, we both noticed a group of three guys around our age standing nearby. 

“The one with the Cubs hat is really cute,” Molly gushed.

I waited a beat before glancing over as casually as I could, smiling to myself when I saw the guy she was referring to. He was tall with shaggy hair partly covered by the cap and a full beard. Molly definitely had a type. But she was right - he was cute. 

I was about to tell her so, and encourage her to go up and talk to him when she said, “Hang on, isn’t that your sexy runner friend from the Shamrock Shuffle?”

The question threw me off. First of all, because I’d been thinking about you so much lately that it felt strange to hear Molly bringing you up. But also because I was still focused on the group of guys near the bar and didn’t know where she would have spotted you.

“What? Where?” I asked, hoping I sounded more casual than I felt. 

“Yeah, that’s definitely him. He’s staring!” Molly confirmed to herself without responding. 

I traced her line of sight, and then our eyes met. You were sitting at a table near the open windows at the front of the bar, looking right back at me. I felt a sudden tingle rolling down my spine and between my legs. My face flushed as my mind flashed back to all the times I’d touched myself and made myself cum over the past couple weeks since the race, imagining so many scenarios that could’ve been if we hadn’t let each other leave without exchanging numbers or making plans to meet up. 

Molly noticed me staring back at you and waved a hand in my face to get my attention back. “Earth to Sam!” she smirked. “Are you gonna go say hi?”

I looked at her, unsure what to say, what to do. Then, I glanced back over at you again, this time noticing the others at your table. You sat next to a blonde woman, and there was another couple sitting across from you. A double date? 

“It looks like he’s with someone,” I pointed out, wanting to hear what Molly thought. 

“True,” she agreed, building my disappointment. “Might be awkward if you went over there.” 

I tried brushing it off, not wanting to let on how curious I still was about you and your date. “Oh well,” I said, as breezily as I could manage. “Let’s go talk to your mountain man instead.”

Molly laughed and agreed easily. 

So, we made our way over to the group of guys at the other end of the bar, quickly brainstorming a clever way of invading their conversation. 

I did my best to be a good wingman for Molly, talking and casually flirting with the mountain man’s friends as the guys bought us each another drink. But my attention kept drifting back to you, against my will. I tried to force myself to stop looking over at your table. When that didn’t work, I made myself at least wait a few minutes between glances, timing it with each new song that came on. 

Then, on the fourth or fifth song change, I looked over and saw that your seat was empty. I felt a tightening in my chest as my eyes scanned the bar for you. I didn’t find you within the first few seconds, and didn’t want to let on how preoccupied I was, so I forced myself once again to let it go, telling myself you must’ve just gone to the bathroom or something. 

A couple of minutes later, I heard your voice coming from right behind me. 

“Can I get a gin and tonic with Bombay Sapphire, and a Bud Light?” you ordered, calling to the bartender. 

I turned around as soon as I heard you, and our eyes met again. The tingle I felt was much more intense this time, as you stood right in front of me. You smiled, and I felt exposed, like you could see all the dirty thoughts running through my mind, as if my eyes were displaying them like a projector. 

“Can I also get another of what she’s having?” you asked the bartender as he slid the two drinks from your original order across the bar.  

He looked over at my glass and then gave me a slight nod to ask what my drink was. 

“Screwdriver,” I told him. 

“Glad I’m getting a chance to buy you a proper drink. It didn’t feel right to end things with that water at the race.” 

I felt the blush creeping back up into my cheeks as I smiled back at you. “No, it didn’t,” I agreed.

“Am I interrupting?” you asked, indicating the group of guys behind me. 

I didn’t bother looking back at them before shaking my head. “Molly likes the guy with the beard. I’m just the wingman.”

You smirked. “Not sure the other guys see it that way.”

I glanced back to see one guy I’d been talking to watching us. Molly was giving me a concerned look as well. I ignored them both and turned back to you, shrugging slightly. 

Your smirk caused another, stronger tingle. I squeezed my thighs together in response. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other,” you said, looking at me intensely. “I was worried I wouldn’t see you again.”

My mind flashed back to Grant Park, after the race that day, meeting your eyes as my friends headed out, trying to talk myself into going up to you to get your number, but also hoping you’d be the one to make the move instead. 

Before I could ask you more about what happened that day, Molly interrupted. 

“Well, if it isn’t the water boy!” she joked. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, small world,” you said, smiling back at Molly. “We live right down the street.”

“We, meaning you and your wife?” Molly asked, pointedly. 

I looked back at her, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I was slow to put it all together, but finally understood when she gave me an intent look and gestured with her eyes towards your left hand. Or rather, the ring on your finger. 

You watched me notice the ring and seemed to take stock of my reaction. “Yeah,” you admitted, hesitantly. 

I wasn’t sure what to think. For a moment, I told myself this all must be nothing. Maybe I was right before, and it’s all just been in my head. You must not actually have been flirting with me if you were married. But I already knew that wasn’t the truth.

Once again, as if reading my mind, you winked at me, a slight smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. 

Just then, the rest of our friends arrived. Molly and I got distracted away, greeting them excitedly and hugging in turns. It was just about 9:00 by then, so we started heading upstairs. I hung back for a moment, noticing that you were still lingering by the bar. 

“We’re going up to dueling pianos,” I told you. 

“I might have to check that out later. After all, you owe me a couple of drinks now,” you said with another wink. 

I couldn’t help laughing. “Is that so?”

You nodded. “If my math is correct.” 

As you answered, I felt your eyes sliding down from mine slowly, landing on my cleavage and resting there. I felt my nipples hardening under your stare and wondered if you’d notice. 

Before I had a chance to find out, Molly came back for me, grabbing me by the arm. “Let’s go, Sam. The show’s starting and we need to get seats.” 

“Okay,” I agreed, finally pulling my eyes away from you as she started leading me towards the stairs. 

I glanced back one last time as we left the bar area. You were smirking and watching us leave before finally making your way back to your table. 

***

“Sorry Shamrock Shuffle guy ended up being a creep,” Molly said consolingly as we made our way up the stairs, waiting in line to pay the cover fee for the dueling pianos show. “But I think Andy likes you! He’s cute, right?”

The mountain man and his friends had followed us upstairs, and I could tell Molly was already scheming to push me towards hooking up with one of them, having written you off as soon as she saw your wedding band. That just made me feel self-conscious that I hadn’t; if I was honest with myself, your ring wasn’t enough to make me stop wanting you. 

It was rather shocking, though, finding out that you had a wife. It made me want to know more: How old were you? How long had you been married? What was going on in your marriage that was making you want to flirt with other people? Did you have an open relationship or something? What did you want from me? I felt like I already knew the answer to that one, though.

I was feeling distracted during the dueling pianos show. My friends ordered round after round of Jell-O shots. Andy, or whatever his name was, was sitting next to me and still trying to talk to me for a while. But when he noticed how preoccupied I was, glancing over to the doorway to see if you’d come up, he moved on to flirt with my friend Carly instead. I was relieved, but I noticed Molly’s uneasy look, as she must’ve known what I was thinking. So, I tried to refocus on my friends and the show, not wanting to stress her out or keep her from having fun with the guy she liked.

A few songs later, I saw you come up the stairs. You were looking around. Looking for me, I thought. I watched you and waited until our eyes met again. When you finally found me, you smiled, and then gestured with a slight jerk of your head for me to come talk to you. Without a second thought, I excused myself, telling my friends I was going to the bathroom. I started heading towards the bar, figuring you’d want to take me up on the drink I owed you, but you stepped back out into the hall to wait for me instead. 

I found you out there, both of us smiling again as I approached. It felt involuntary. My body just reacted to you and the way you were looking at me, like you wanted to devour me.

“Is your group coming up for the show?” I asked. 

“No, I just told them I was going to check out the batting cages,” you admitted, moving another half step closer to me and bringing your finger to your lips in a shushing gesture. 

I just smiled back a little, still feeling unsure. 

“So, is Sam short for Samantha?” you asked then, bringing me out of my thoughts. 

“Yes. My friends call me Sam.”

You smiled and answered, “Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Mark.”

I couldn’t help smiling too, and blushing, thinking about how far we’d gotten without even exchanging names. “Do you want that drink, Mark?” 

You shrugged. “I have a full one downstairs.”

I scoffed and laughed a bit. “How can I repay you, then?” 

I didn’t realize how flirty that might sound until the words were already out.

But apparently it was the response you’d been looking for. You smiled and leaned in even closer until you were whispering in my ear. “I’m sure we can come up with something.” 

A shiver coursed through me as I felt your warm breath on the side of my neck and reacted to your proximity.

You didn’t pull back very far, watching me closely, glancing between my chest and my parted lips, noting my reactions. Then you brought one hand up, brushing the backs of your fingers over my hard nipples, which were clearly poking through my bra and shirt at that point. 

I sighed when I felt your light touch. My heart started beating faster, my chest heaving slightly, causing my cleavage to swell above my low-cut top. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, suddenly grabbing me by the waist and pulling me against you right there in the crowded hall. I felt your hard cock pressing into me through our clothes. Your lips hovered over mine and I couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as much as I wanted you to kiss me in that moment.  

“My wife is right downstairs,” you breathed against my lips. 

I was surprised to find that that just seemed to turn me even more, my pussy clenching and throbbing, eyebrows furrowing as the heat rose in my cheeks. “I don’t care,” I finally admitted, shaking my head slightly, my arousal pushing me beyond caring about the implications of what I was saying. 

That’s all it took. 

“Fuck, c’mon,” you said, suddenly grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hall, through the batting cages area, and down another hall towards the restrooms. Just as I started to wonder which restroom you were planning on invading, you stopped short and tried the handle of another unmarked door. It was unlocked and appeared to be a storage room for equipment to the batting cages and fixing the arcade games. You pulled me inside quickly and closed the door behind us. 

Then you just looked at me again, and I felt the same tension from the race day, times a thousand. My pussy throbbed, remembering how I’d touched myself, thinking about more with you after that day. Assuming I’d never see you again. I couldn’t believe it was happening. There was still the thought that I shouldn’t let it happen, but I felt powerless to stop it. 

Before my racing thoughts could go any further, you were pulling me in and kissing me, at last. I felt your tongue playing with mine as my hands came to your chest, gripping two handfuls of your shirt. Your hands were everywhere, groping wherever you could, squeezing my ass, tugging me closer until I was pressed against you. My hands slid up to comb into your hair, tugging your head to the side to deepen the kiss. You growled into my mouth and pinned me back against the door, pressing yourself into me again as you sucked and nibbled on my bottom lip. I moaned into the kiss as your hands slid up under my shirt, cupping my breasts and squeezing hard through my bra. Then you started kissing down my neck as one hand slid down to rub me through my jeans. 

My gasp turned into a low moan as I felt your touch there. 

You pulled back, your eyes scanning my face, which was fully furrowed in pleasure. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the race.”

I whimpered, bracing myself by gripping your arms tightly, my nails digging into your skin. I wanted to respond, to tell you how much I’d been thinking about you too, but I wasn’t able to form the words, already so close to coming undone as my hips started grinding on your hand. 

I loved the sound of your groan when you felt me wanting you like that. 

“I wanted to come back up and talk to you after the race, but my wife was at the finish area,” you explained. 

 I struggled to catch my breath and respond, still writhing in your arms. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t listen to Molly and go up to give you my number, then.”

You chuckled a little, not letting up with the rubbing. Then, “No excuses tonight, though.” 

I smiled back. “No…”

Then you started opening my jeans. 

I felt an instant throb and clenched my pussy again when your hand started tugging at the button and zipper of my jeans. As you got them open, I looked down to watch your hand sliding inside right away. I gasped and cursed as your fingers slid under the waistband of my panties, too. 

You kissed me again immediately deeply as you started rubbing me, your fingers sliding along my slit. Both of us moaned into the kiss as your fingertips dipped in between my lips. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” you muttered into my mouth. 

My whole body was writhing between you and the storage closet door at that point. “So good…” I muttered, feeling even more turned on to hear you say that, unable to form words for a coherent response at that point. 

“What are you thinking?” you asked then, moving to kiss my neck, your lips brushing over my neck and nibbling on my earlobe as you breathed the words into my ear. “What has you this turned on? What do you want?”

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered, reacting to your voice. I felt so close already. I didn’t think I’d get the words out before rolling over the edge. “I’m gonna cum,” I breathed. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, your fingers picking up the pace, rubbing over my clit. “Yes! Cum for me, Sam! Cum on my fingers.”

My hands slid up the back of your shirt, feeling the bare skin of your back as my nails dug in, my hips grinding against you. Then I felt you sucking on and biting my neck and that was it. 

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming!” I managed to say before the unstifled moans and strings of curses overtook me. I brought one hand around to press yours onto me harder as I rode out the orgasm. 

You pulled back to watch it on my face, then consumed me in another kiss as I came down, your fingers not letting up with the rubbing. “Tell me,” you growled against my lips. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“Fuck!” I sighed, pressing against your chest, attempting to pull your arm back. 

But you didn’t ease up. You smirked at me, then leaned in to kiss and nibble along my jawline, making your way back to my ear and neck. 

I stopped resisting and told you everything. All about how I’d touched myself in the shower when I got home on the day of the Shamrock Shuffle, then again on my bed. And so many other times since then. 

You growled and started rubbing harder, faster. “That’s so hot. You’re so sexy and naughty, hooking up with a married guy in a storage closet at a bar like this.”

I whimpered, feeling suddenly close to cumming again, surprised by how turned on I was to hear you say that, by what we were doing. 

You seemed to notice, pulling back and scanning my face again. “I want you so much. I’ve thought about so many things I want to do with you. To you. You’re such a sexy little college slut, aren’t you?”

“Ohhhhh my god!” I yelled out, suddenly cumming again, yelling out and writhing on your hand against the door.

You groaned and kept rubbing as I came down. “Good girl,” you smiled, pulling your hand back out of my pants after. “Now I want to feel your mouth on my cock.”

“Fuck…” I felt another throb when I heard your words, once again surprised by how much that turned me on, by how much I wanted it, too. Everything with you felt so dirty, but so good. Like nothing I’d ever experienced before. 

You gave me a nudge, pushing down on my shoulders.

I sighed and slid down to my knees. 

“You want it as much as I do, don’t you?” you asked, looking down at me. 

I blushed, feeling how easily you seemed to read what I was thinking, and still a bit confused by the thoughts, myself. But I couldn’t deny that it was true, so I looked up at you and nodded. 

Then you unhooked your belt and pants, quickly pulling your cock out. It practically bounced up in my face, so hard already. 

I felt my pussy clench again as I reached out to stroke, then leaning forward and running my tongue over the head of your cock, earning an immediate groan from you. I wrapped my lips around you and started gradually taking you in deeper, my tongue rubbing along the underside of your cock while my lips stroked your shaft. I was encouraged by your moans and labored breathing, not to mention your words: “Your mouth feels so fucking good around my cock, Sam.” 

Then I felt your hands move to my head. I moaned around your cock as I continued sucking and stroking, feeling you gripping my head more firmly as you started guiding my mouth on and off of your cock. It turned me on to feel that, my pussy clenching once again. I slid my free hand down between my legs to rub my clit. 

Your groans continued as you pulled back until just the head of your cock was in my mouth, thrusting shallowly. I looked up at you as one of your hands slid into my hair, gripping tightly, while the other came to the side of my face. You started pulling my head on and off of your cock, still focusing on the head at first, then pulling more forcefully until your cock was pressing deep down my throat. You kept going until I gagged a little, then pulled my head back off of your cock to allow me to recover. 

I moaned and reached to suck and stroking again eagerly as soon as I’d taken a breath, trying to take you in even deeper, all on my own. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, your head rolling back. 

I kept sucking, my hands sliding down to your thighs, taking you in as deeply as I could until I gagged again. This time, rather than pulling me off of your cock, you pressed harder on the back of my head, while also thrusting deeper down until your cock was all the way down my throat. 

“That’s it. Take all of my hard cock down your throat. Flick your tongue out at my balls,” you commanded.

I moaned, rubbing my clit harder as I opened my throat for you, using my tongue again to rub against the base of your cock and flick out at your balls as requested. 

“Fuck! That’s it… keep your lips wrapped around me nice and tight, just like that. You’re such a good fucking slut, aren’t you?” 

Your words were doing something to me I couldn’t describe. I’d never had anyone calling me names, somewhat degrading me like that. I never would’ve guessed that it would be something I liked, but I couldn’t ignore the way my body was responding. I felt so close to cumming for a third time, my fingers rubbing frantically on my clit, inside my jeans and panties. I was practically whimpering on your cock as I felt you dragging my mouth most of the way off, only to pull and thrust all the way back down my throat again roughly. 

You groaned when you saw my fingers were picking up speed. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?” 

“Mmm hmm,” I moaned around your cock. 

“Fuck! I’m so close to cumming down your throat. Is that what you want? Are you gonna be a good girl and swallow all of my cum?” 

I moaned affirmatively again, feeling you pulling and sliding my mouth along your shaft. 

Then you groaned again and pulled back until just the head of your cock was in my mouth again. “Nice and tight now,” you ordered, your breathing noticeably more labored. 

I wrapped my lips tightly around you, hollowing out my cheeks as you kept thrusting shallowly. And then I felt and heard you approaching release. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” you growled, just before I felt the first burst of hot cum shooting into my mouth. You held my head still and I could feel the pulsations of your cock with each jet of cum as I struggled to keep it all in my mouth, swallowing as you kept cumming, groaning with each release. 

When you’d finally emptied all of your cum into my mouth, I pulled back slowly, licking every drop from the tip of your cock. Before I could move back all the way off of your cock, you tightened your grip on my hair and on my head once again and pulled me all the way onto your still semi-hard cock one last time before finally releasing me. 

I smiled up at you and laughed a little as I leaned back on my heels, wiping the outline of my mouth. 

“Fuck,” you chuckled, smiling back down at me. “That was fucking amazing.” 

“Yeah, it was,” I agreed with a smirk. 

You held out a hand for me then, pulling me back to my feet as soon as I took it, then reaching out and grabbing me by the throat, squeezing, pressing me back up against the door. 

I gasped and moaned again, my chest heaving, my breathing suddenly labored. 

“I need to go. My wife and friends are going to be wondering why I’ve been gone so long,” you said. You were watching my reactions again, your thumb stroking my neck as your eyes fell to my cleavage once again. 

“Okay,” I breathed, still reacting to your touch and the way you were looking at me. 

Then your hand slid down my chest until you were cupping and squeezing my breasts through my shirt. Your other hand found my hip and squeezed before sliding back into my panties. Then, your fingers pressed down until they were slipping into my pussy again. Your palm pressed hard against my clit as your fingers curled and pressed up further into me. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me,” you growled, fingers rubbing, fingering me more aggressively again. 

“Ohhh god,” I moaned, writhing on your hand, feeling so close to cumming again.

Your other hand tugged my shirt up, suddenly. Then you tried tugging down on the cups of my bra. I helped by reaching back to unclasp the bra, allowing you to push it up towards my neck, too, exposing my breasts. You leaned down as soon as they were free, taking one of my nipples into your mouth, sucking hard and nibbling.

“Fuck!” I yelled out, fingers digging into your upper arms again. 

“I want you to cum again,” you said, pulling back briefly before attacking my other nipple. 

“Ohhhhhhh my god… ohhh fuck…” I whimpered, my hips gyrating with the movement of your hand. 

“It was so hot seeing how turned on you were to have my married cock in your mouth. Taking it all the way down your throat. I knew you’d be such a good little college slut for me. Letting me fuck your hot slut mouth.”

Your words brought me over the edge again. “Oh fuck! I’m cumming!” As your fingers kept rubbing my clit, I felt an eruption of warmth and wetness. I hooked one leg around your waist and leaned back against the storage closet door, nearly lifting off my feet as I writhed and rocked against your hand. It was by far the most insane feeling I’d ever experienced. 

I came down slowly, breathing hard, feeling weak in the knees as I regained my footing. An involuntary, big, goofy grin took over my face. A ringing sensation resonated in my ears. 

I felt you drag your hand out of my pants, and then watched as you examined my wetness, glistening on your fingers. Then you brought them up to your face, smelling them. Licking a little. Fuck. I felt another tightening in my chest and clenching in my pussy as I watched you tasting me like that. 

“You taste so good,” you said. 

I couldn’t formulate a response, so I just stared back at you, my eyes still clouded with pleasure and lust. 

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” you asked next.

I shook my head slowly, glancing between you and your hand. 

Then you lifted your fingers up to my face, stopping short by just an inch. “Smell,” you commanded. 

I did as you said, noting the tangy odor. 

Then you brought your fingers to my lips, rubbing your fingertips along my bottom lip, pressing down, then slipping the fingers into my mouth. “Suck on them.”

I sighed, feeling the effects of your words, once again following directions enthusiastically. It was sweet yet bitter, with a slight metallic taste as well. I sucked on your fingers as you pressed them into my mouth deeper, then started thrusting them in and out, slowly. 

“Good girl,” you said, once I’d sucked all of my juices from your fingers. “Next time, I want to taste more of you.” 

“Next time?” I asked with a cautious smile. 

You smirked back, wiping your hand off on your jeans before taking your phone out of your pocket and unlocking it, opening your phone app, and then handing it to me to enter my number. 

I typed my number in, then handed the phone back to you, letting you decide what to save it as. Then I heard a ding from my phone as you texted me so that I’d have yours as well. I smiled as you finished saving my number, then clicked your phone off again. 

You smiled back, re-buttoning and zipping up your jeans. “I really have to go now.”

I laughed a little and started readjusting my clothes as well. “Yeah, me too.” 

“Why don’t I give you a little head start, just in case?” you offered.

“Okay,” I agreed, smiling as I reached for the door handle and pulled it open, quickly peering out into the hall to check that the coast was mostly clear. Then I turned back to you one last time. “Bye.” 

“Bye for now,” you said with a wink. 

***

I made my way back into the dueling pianos room, completely unaware of how long I’d been gone, but knowing that it was way too long for it to be believable that I was really just in the bathroom. I scrambled to come up with another believable story, already doubting that I’d be able to pull it off, anyway. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” Molly yelled as soon as she saw me approaching the table. 

“I ran into some friends from work by the batting cages,” I lied, opting to keep it simple, hoping for the best. “How are things going with the mountain man?” 

“Who was it? You should invite them to join us!” Molly suggested, not accepting my attempt at changing the subject. 

“I don’t think you’ve met them,” I said, aiming to appear breezy. 

Then Molly’s expression changed as her eyes caught on something behind me. Her eyebrows furrowed and raised, and she gave me a questioning look. 

“What?” I asked, turning around to find what she was looking at. I caught a glimpse of you walking down the hall, heading back downstairs, and blushed, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hide or deny what happened to Molly, of all people. 

“Sam, what the hell?!” she started, before I’d even turned back. 

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I knew how bad it looked, what Molly must be thinking. But I couldn’t explain any of it, still feeling dazed after everything that had just happened in the storage closet. 

I felt myself blushing again as I turned back to her. “Nothing happened,” I lied. 

Molly just rolled her eyes. 

Then I was saved from having to try another response as the server came by with a tray full of Jell-O shots and we all went for another round. 

***

Molly was a lot more drunk than I was by the time we called it a night, right around closing time at Sluggers. She and the mountain man had exchanged numbers, and it looked like the two other guys had managed to get numbers from our friends as well. 

As Molly and I waited for a cab, I tried to keep the conversation on her, hoping to avoid any more questioning about what happened with you for as long as possible. 

That hope didn’t last long, though. 

“So what exactly does ‘nothing happened’ mean?” Molly asked, not long after we’d finally gotten into a cab, once it was just the two of us again.  

I groaned. “It means what it means!” 

“Sam, he’s married,” she said, with emphasis. 

“I know he’s married!” I snapped back. “I said nothing happened!” 

Molly seemed to let it go after that. At least I thought she had, for a few silent moments, anyway. “Well, we both know that’s a load of shit and that you’re a terrible liar. But I can tell you really don’t want to talk about it, so just promise me you’ll be careful and be smart. I just don’t want you or anyone to get hurt.” 

I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond, knowing that she knew I knew she was right, but not willing to admit it yet. 

We rode the rest of the way home in relative silence, aside from my occasional jabs to make sure she was still awake and not passing out in the back of the cab. “I won’t be able to carry you up four flights of stairs, you know! You’ll have to sleep on the doorstep!” I warned her. 

She just snickered and laughed back. 

***

Despite how late it was by the time Molly and I got home and went to bed, I couldn’t fall asleep. I swayed back and forth between the guilt I knew I should feel, knowing what we’d done and how bad it would be if your wife found out, and the thrill of all the new feelings and sensations you’d brought out of me. Everything with you felt so different from any past experiences with guys my age. I never would’ve imagined that I could do anything like this, but from the beginning, it hadn’t even occurred to me to try to resist. The little voice that was supposed to be in my head telling me that this was wrong seemed to be MIA. 

As I lay in bed, I kept replaying the events of the evening in my mind, thinking back over everything that had happened with you in that storage closet. I got flashes of memories: being on my knees in front of you, feeling your fingers inside of me, hearing your hot words that drove me to orgasm after orgasm. The thoughts got me so turned on again. I slid a hand down inside my panties, feeling how wet I still was, wanting to feel more. 

Then I allowed myself to imagine what might come next. I started with that comment you made, about wanting to taste more of me next time, and how incredible it would likely feel to have your mouth on me like that. Rubbing slow circles around my clit, I imagined you licking and sucking on me there, until you made me cum so hard on your tongue.

Then I pictured you climbing on top of me right there in my bed. My stomach did a flip when I imagined you hovering over me, holding yourself up, your eyes boring down into mine, your lips curving up into that sexy smirk as you rocked against my hips, grinding your hard cock against me. I imagined feeling the head of your cock pressing into my lips, slipping between them and into my opening. Rubbing harder, faster, I pictured you sinking into me until your hips were pressing me down into the mattress, then pulling back and thrusting, gradually harder, faster. Closing my eyes and arching my head back, I came again, my whole body writhing beneath the sheets. 

After I came down from yet another intense orgasm, I picked up my phone to look back at the quick text you’d sent while we were still in the storage closet earlier. 

“Hi,” it read. 

I clicked on the info icon, then created a new contact with your name. Then, as I was clicking back out, I accidentally hit the phone icon and suddenly, my phone was dialing your number. I cursed and fumbled to hit the end call button, but I had a bad feeling I was too late. I waited for the next several moments with bated breath, to see if there’d be any response or call back. 

Sure enough, less than a minute later, there was a text: “You must have felt me thinking about you.” 

A huge, involuntary grin overtook my face. I clicked on the iMessage text box to type a response, but wasn’t sure what to say. I tried out a few different options, but immediately erased each one, shaking my head and getting frustrated with myself for overthinking, knowing you’d be seeing the three dots flashing, showing each time I started to type. 

Then your three dots were flashing again, and another message came through: “Are you in bed?”

“Yes,” I typed right away, then finally hit send. 

“Naked?”

Fuck. My breath hitched as I once again considered my response. “Not quite,” I replied. 

“What are you wearing?” you asked as a follow-up. 

“Panties and a t-shirt.” 

“Panties still wet?” 

“Yes.” 

“How hard are your nipples?” 

“I can feel them poking through my t-shirt.” 

Your next response took a minute, the three dots coming and going as you seemed to be considering what to say next. I waited with eyes trained on my phone screen, and finally your next message popped up: 

“Take the shirt off. Lick your nipples and suck them into your mouth.”

Fuck. I couldn’t help wondering where you were at that moment, as you were sending me those messages. Were you already in bed, with your wife sleeping beside you? Were you still up and in another room, getting hard again as you pictured me in bed, playing with my own nipples? I wanted to ask, but also didn’t want to interrupt the flow. “Okay,” I replied, then leaning up to pull the shirt off and tossing it onto the floor. “It’s off.” 

“Good slut,” you replied. 

I moaned, my body writhing once again. 

“Are you cupping your breasts yet?” your next message asked.

I moved my free hand to my breasts and typed, “Yes” 

“Squeezing?” 

“Yes”

“Feeling the weight of your (D’s?) in your hands?”

I smiled at the implied question. “38DD,” I replied. 

“Mmmm… I want you to circle your light pink nipples lightly until they’re nice and hard, then pinch them between your fingers.” 

I sighed and followed directions, texting a moan back to you: “Mmmmm so good.” 

“How hard are they now?”

“Almost as hard as they were with your mouth on them earlier.” 

“Lick them into your mouth.” 

I smiled, setting the phone down to hold my breasts up and together, then leaning up to make my mouth reach my nipples. I flicked my tongue out at them, then sucked each one into my mouth. “Not quite the same effect you have, but still good,” I replied, adding on a winky-face emoji. 

“Good. Now move your hand down to your mound and stop. Wait for me to tell you to move.”  

I sighed, sliding my hand into my panties once again. “Okay.” 

“Slide your fingers down over your clit. Do not touch it directly. Move your fingers around the side, down and around, underneath, back up to the top. Keep circling it without touching it.” 

I sighed as I did as you told me, my hips arching up as my pussy clenched. 

“Slip a finger between your lips, feel the wetness. Tell me how wet you are.”

“Very wet,” I responded right away, feeling it, but not needing to touch to know the answer. 

“Did you cum already since you got home?” 

I bit my lip, smiling as I typed back, “Maybe…”

“Mmmmm,” you replied. “Get your dildo.”

I chuckled a little to myself. “What makes you think I have a dildo?” I asked, adding a tongue-sticking-out emoji. 

“Get it and describe it to me,” you responded, simply. 

I smiled as I turned to my side, reaching to the middle drawer of my bedside table and pulling out my toy. “It’s pink, and it has an attachment to stimulate my clit while it’s inside me.”

“A rabbit?”

“Sort of. It’s like that, but the clit stimulator part makes a sucking feeling,” I added, with a blushing-smiling emoji. 

“What kind is that?”

I opened my google app and found the same one under the shopping tab, then copy/pasted the link into messages and texted it to you. 

It took you a minute to reply, and I assumed you must’ve been checking out the link. Then the three dots were jumping again, and your response came: “I might have to get one of those for my wife.” 

I wasn’t really sure what to think or how to reply to that. Luckily you moved on and I didn’t have to.

“Do you need lube? Or are you wet enough for it already?”

 “Wet enough,” I replied. 

 "Rub the tip along your slit.”

 I sighed and did what you said. “Okay.” 

“Press it into your clit.” 

I closed my eyes and sighed as I followed that next step. “Mmm.”

“Now press it inside slowly. Focus on how it feels, parting your lips like that.”

I took my time, savoring the feeling. 

You kept sending the detailed instructions on how you wanted me to fuck myself with the dildo, telling me to press it all the way inside, as deep as it would go, then to hold the clit sucker in place with one hand while the other worked the main shaft in and out of my pussy as far as it would go. 

My responses became fewer and farther in between, which seemed to show that I was getting close. 

“Tell me when you’re about to cum,” you ordered. 

I kept going, kept watching your messages and carrying out the instructions with my dildo, until I could feel myself building to another release. “I’m gonna cum,” I texted. 

Then the phone rang. 

“Fuck!” I whisper-cursed, fumbling with the phone to answer, cutting off the loud sound and hoping that Molly was sleeping soundly enough next door to not hear the ring through the paper-thin wall. 

Before I could say anything, I heard your gruff, whispered voice: “Don’t talk. I want to hear you cum.” 

In the background, I could hear you stroking your hard cock, your hand sliding quickly along your shaft, aided by whatever you’d used as lube. 

It was so hot to imagine. I figured you weren’t likely in bed with your wife, after all. I wanted to know where you were, but you told me not to talk, so I didn’t. I just kept rubbing my clit, picturing you, your hand wrapped around your cock as you jerked off. I heard your muffled moans and started breathing harder, feeling myself building up for the fifth time that night. More flashes from the storage closet flooded my mind and then I was cumming, holding the phone close to my mouth so you could hear my stifled moans and curses as my body jerked and spasmed through another intense orgasm.

“That’s it, cum hard for me, Sam,” you whispered when you heard me. “I’m so close. I fucking love hearing you cum. All your sexy little sounds.”

Your words helped to extend my pleasure. I kept rubbing over my clit vigorously until the waves finally subsided. Then I heard you getting there.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you muttered. 

And then I heard your muffled grunts, remembering how hot it was to hear your unrestrained noises as you came down my throat earlier. I thought about how much I wanted to hear you grunting like that while you were on top of me, filling me. 

“Oh fuck, I just came so hard. It shot all over my chest and stomach,” you shared, still breathing hard.

“Ooh my god!” I gasped. That new image, added to the already vivid pictures in my mind, sent me into yet another orgasm as I kept rubbing my clit. 

“You’re so hot,” you muttered, hearing me cum for you a sixth time. 

“Mmm,” I moaned languidly, rubbing my legs together and squeezing my breasts as I came down from another high, feeling sated and so relaxed. I knew I wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping at that point.  

“I’ll text you in the morning,” you said then. “I expect you to cum for me again.”

“Okay,” I agreed easily, a huge grin on my face. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered, and I thought I could hear a smile in your voice, too. 

“Goodnight,” I said back before ending the call. 

I got up to go to the bathroom and rinse off the dildo, then returned it to its drawer and plugged in my phone before climbing back into bed, under the covers. I curled up on my side and smiled, my limbs still writhing and rubbing together a bit as I drifted off to sleep.