“I have to say, this really has to be my very favorite breakup ever.”
I stretched out my body, so that my fingertips just touched the headboard and my toes touched the base of my bed. Then I rolled back over, so that my thigh was draped over Kate’s legs. As I propped myself up on one elbow, I watched my other hand slowly whisk across her breasts and stomach.
“I’m totally serious,” Kate said firmly, looking directly at the ceiling. “We’re finished. I can’t see you anymore.”
I had suspected something was up when she’d called a few hours earlier. For one thing: Kate calling? Usually when we hooked up it was because we ran into each other at a bar or a party, and on more than one occasion she’d just rolled the dice, hoped I was home alone, and had showed up at my loft after a “girls’ night out.” She had never actually called me before. When she finally did, she hadn’t even bothered to say “hello.”
“This is Kate. I’m coming over. I have some things we need to discuss,” was her business-like greeting when I’d picked up.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have just a moment of panic waiting for her to arrive. But I went back and retraced my footsteps (or whatever it is you retrace with your genitals) and concluded that we’d always been quite safe, so I was sure it wasn’t going to be about an STD. And unless my tubes had magically become untied, it seemed unlikely that she was coming over to plan the baby’s nursery. After my self-reassurance, my worry turned to puzzlement. What on Earth would Kate “need” to discuss with me?
“I’m getting engaged,” she announced later as we sat on my couch. “So I can’t see you as anything but a friend anymore.”
“Oh,” I said. I waited for more, and when it appeared that we’d reached the end of the announcement, I added, “Okay.”
“Well, we’re not actually engaged, but we are moving in together. This weekend. And I know that it’s just a matter of time before we are engaged, you know? Because when it’s right you just know these things. You just know when you’ve met the right person to spend your life with, and I think Brett – I know Brett - is that guy. And I know he thinks the same thing about me. He’s not the kind of guy that would move in with me or even sleep with me if he didn’t. And he’s really, really perfect, or at least he’s really perfect for me, so it would be nice if you could just be happy for me, and not give me a bunch of crap over this.”
I waited for a minute, and when I was sure more was not coming I said, “Okay.”
“Is it okay? Really?”
I smiled and nodded, and she let out a long sigh. “That’s such a relief. I was worried you might have thought since we… well, you know, since we did stuff a lot that I was leading you on.”
“I really didn’t.”
“Because,” she said pointedly, “I’m not the type of girl that normally does… the stuff we do without a commitment, but I did do that stuff with you, but now it has to be over. Because I really, really love Brett.”
“Okay. Seriously, no worries,” I assured her. “I've seen RomComs. Hey, I’m happy to be the hot, successful, good looking guy that you left for your soul mate.”
“Actually, Brett’s pretty successful. He’s does some pretty high high-finance, and oh my Lord you should see his apartment – it’s like 2,000 square feet overlooking the skyline. And his family has more money that God.”
“Okay, then I’ll just be the good looking guy you left for your soul mate.”
“He is really, really amazingly good looking.”
We both agreed that life was looking up for Kate. We spent a few more minutes with small talk. We considered a glass of wine and decided we shouldn’t, we shared a few lame “We’ll always have the elevator at the Hilton!” jokes, and then it was time for her to leave. We stood and I put out my hand to shake as she was starting in for a hug, and then we each reversed to match the other, and finally she just stepped in and hugged me.
“Goodbye, David.”
“Goodbye, Kate.”
We stood there for a few minutes, hugging each other goodbye. And then, somehow, we weren’t hugging each other goodbye anymore. Hands that embraced began to move; the growing bulge in my pants was met with small, tiny movements from her hips. The warm breath on necks turned hot and heavy, and then it was lips on those necks, and then teeth, and eventually our two mouths found each other.
The kissing continued as our hands feverishly fumbled with one another’s buttons, zippers and clasps. Then my hands were clutching at her ass, lifting her off the ground as I pushed her back up against the wall. I was moving my hips up and down, my cock pushing against the slick runway that surrounded her clit. I felt her legs wrap around me, and as our tongues lashed out at one another she whispered, “Please… please…”
I pulled my hips back and then thrust back up and inside of her, burying myself to the hilt in a single stroke.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ you have a big cock!” she barked.
We went at it like that for I don’t know how long, until my arms began to tire from hold her up. I carried her into my bedroom, spun her around and entered her from behind. It was wild and savage, and sight of her amazing ass as she buried her head in the pillow touched primal forces inside of me. I reached down and pulled her up, so that her back was against my chest and my head was over her shoulder. As I plucked at her hard nipples I growled in her ear, “Since you’re leaving me for another man, maybe I should take you in your ass.”
She let out a moan, and, astonishingly, I found myself completely unsurprised when I heard her reply, “Maybe you should.”
An hour later, sprawled against damp sheets, my thigh draping her legs, I reiterated what I had just said.
“Seriously, this really has been the most fun I’ve ever had breaking up with someone.”
“You,” she said as she continued to stare at the ceiling, “are a pig. I can’t believe you put it in my ass.”
“I can’t believe you let me,” I said cheerfully, for I was feeling most cheerful indeed.
“You’re such a tool.” She lightly whacked me on the head with her hand.
“I have a tool. It’s quite big.”
“Pffft. It’s not nearly as big as you like to think.”
“Really?” I grinned at her, “Because just a little while ago I heard someone telling Jesus otherwise.” I leaned down and kissed her breasts, darting my tongue out at her still-hard nipples.
“I really hate you sometimes,” she said, her breathing starting to quicken again.
“Then it’s a good thing we’re breaking up,” I allowed, and my tongue and grazing teeth began to make their way down her taught stomach.
“We’re not breaking up, I’m breaking up with you. For someone better looking and more successful and better liked by everyone than you - you left that part out.” Her words were becoming a purr.
“Best. Breakup. Ever,” I said in between long laps of my tongue up her thighs.
“Fuck you,” she said, pulling my head deep between her legs.
______________________________
A month later, I was killing time before meeting some friends for a 10:00 show from one of our favorite local bands. I had only seen Kate once since our breakup; that had been just a couple of days after our breakup. She’d called and wanted to apologize for “giving me the wrong idea.” She wanted to leave as just friends and didn't want our last interaction to be all about sex, she said, so would it be possible to swing by her place?
“Nothing will happen,” she said firmly. “Partly because I’m almost engaged, and partly because Brett will be coming over in about an hour, so I wouldn't let anything happen. Plus I have my period, and I never have sex when I have my period.” So I went over and said goodbye, and then spent the rest of the afternoon icing the welts on my back she had left with her fingernails. “Tell me what you want me to do to you,” I had whispered in her ear at one point, only to be told “Anything but missionary. I’m starting to fucking hate missionary.” I had not seen her since.
I still had a couple of hours to kill before the show, so I decided to get a drink at my favorite downtown hotel. It’s a landmark in our city, primarily for the restaurant and bar which are world class. It’s all in one enormous room with twenty-foot ceilings, and everything about it is very old-school. All the tables all have starched white linen, the wait staff is dressed black tie, and the bar itself is a thing of beauty from a bygone era: Fifteen feet high, solid dark mahogany with a mirror inset, and rows and rows of every kind of scotch known to man. It is very popular, and always packed.
“Table for one?” asked the hostess as I walked in. She was young and pretty, with long red hair and what looked to be an amazing pair of breasts under her tuxedo shirt, and I found myself wondering if she liked live music. I had not had sex in a few weeks, and was feeling famished.
“No, I’m just looking to see if there’s room at the bar. But it looks like there isn’t.”
She glanced over and peered across the cavernous space. “Oh, actually, there’s one last one right there. It’s on the side where the lightings bad, so it’s hard to see.”
“Oh, I see, thanks. You know, actually if you’re not doing… Huh.”
I was just about to say that I would rather stay and talk with her for a while if she didn’t mind, when I was stopped short by what I saw in the bar’s mirror. There on the end, right by the corner the hostess has pointed to, was Kate. Her hand was on the arm of a blond haired gentlemen whom, I had a funny feeling, was known 'round these parts as “Brett.”
“Yes?” asked the hostess, patiently waiting for me to finish.
“Um, nothing. Thanks.”
I walked through the tables toward the bar. As I got closer, I could see Kate smiling attentively at her new beau as he held court. As the beau turned to call to the bartender, Kate glanced in the mirror to quickly check her hair and saw me walking toward her. He eyes went wide, and she looked panicked for just a second. Then her eyes narrowed, and through a scowl she stage-mouthed, “GO, AWAY.” Then her new almost-fiancé-really turned back around, and her head snapped back toward him, her scowl instantly replaced by that marveling smile.
As I walked past, I quickly took in the scene. Both Kate and Brett were standing at the bar; in fact, Kate was standing just at the actual corner. Next to Brett sat a pair of young college age girls, looking excited just to be out on the town. And (God-damn-it!) Brett was in fact very, very good looking – like, male model good looking. And there was no doubt as to the ballpark price of the Armani blazer that hung from his (God-damn-it!) broad and (God-damn-it!) muscular shoulders. If it weren’t for his date, he’d have easily been the best looking person in the whole joint.
Kate looked like a model herself, dressed in a cocktail dress that would make the devil himself weep. Its neckline plunged, but only just so. There was more promise of cleavage than cleavage itself - but my goodness, the cut of the dress promised that cleavage on its crossed heart and hoped to die. The skirt of the dress hung fairly loosely, but did so in a way that let you know exactly how those hips and ass would fit in your hands. And as I got closer I could tell that the slip up the side went very high indeed. I don’t know enough about women’s clothes to even have a guess at where you would buy such a dress, but I knew enough to know it wasn’t taken down from any rack. And I knew enough about female bodies to know that whoever designed the damn thing lucked out when it was presented to the all the world on a body like Kate’s.
I walked past her to the side of the bar, back in the least well-lit corner of the entire restaurant. It was just big enough for one low-riding barstool.
“That’s my chair,” said Kate quickly as I pulled it out. “I’m sorry, but it’s mine and it’s taken. I’m afraid you’ll have to go find another spot.”
“No honey, your chair is right here.” Brett pulled out stool from the other side of the corner. “Would you like to sit? We can sit.” I could see the gears whirl in Kate’s head, as she tried to figure out exactly how she could convince Brett there was no room for me on the empty barstool without letting him know why. She gave up.
“No,” sighed Kate, “I don’t want to sit. I’m happy standing.”
“There you go! Pull up a stool, mi amigo!” beamed Brett the Mighty, Solver of Seating Issues.
“Thanks,” I said sitting down, “but I’m about to meet friends. I’m just here for a quickie.” Kate’s eyes shot daggers.
“Hey, awesome! Do you like Macallans? We’re drinking Macallans. Katiey here loves Macallans. Hey, bartender, can we get a Macallans over here for mi amigo? Double, please. And hey, put can ya our drinks on his tab?” Brett laughed hard at his joke, and the college girls next to him laughed with him on cue. They were clearly enthralled with the handsome, rich man they’d found themselves next to for the evening.
I stretched out my body, so that my fingertips just touched the headboard and my toes touched the base of my bed. Then I rolled back over, so that my thigh was draped over Kate’s legs. As I propped myself up on one elbow, I watched my other hand slowly whisk across her breasts and stomach.
“I’m totally serious,” Kate said firmly, looking directly at the ceiling. “We’re finished. I can’t see you anymore.”
I had suspected something was up when she’d called a few hours earlier. For one thing: Kate calling? Usually when we hooked up it was because we ran into each other at a bar or a party, and on more than one occasion she’d just rolled the dice, hoped I was home alone, and had showed up at my loft after a “girls’ night out.” She had never actually called me before. When she finally did, she hadn’t even bothered to say “hello.”
“This is Kate. I’m coming over. I have some things we need to discuss,” was her business-like greeting when I’d picked up.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have just a moment of panic waiting for her to arrive. But I went back and retraced my footsteps (or whatever it is you retrace with your genitals) and concluded that we’d always been quite safe, so I was sure it wasn’t going to be about an STD. And unless my tubes had magically become untied, it seemed unlikely that she was coming over to plan the baby’s nursery. After my self-reassurance, my worry turned to puzzlement. What on Earth would Kate “need” to discuss with me?
“I’m getting engaged,” she announced later as we sat on my couch. “So I can’t see you as anything but a friend anymore.”
“Oh,” I said. I waited for more, and when it appeared that we’d reached the end of the announcement, I added, “Okay.”
“Well, we’re not actually engaged, but we are moving in together. This weekend. And I know that it’s just a matter of time before we are engaged, you know? Because when it’s right you just know these things. You just know when you’ve met the right person to spend your life with, and I think Brett – I know Brett - is that guy. And I know he thinks the same thing about me. He’s not the kind of guy that would move in with me or even sleep with me if he didn’t. And he’s really, really perfect, or at least he’s really perfect for me, so it would be nice if you could just be happy for me, and not give me a bunch of crap over this.”
I waited for a minute, and when I was sure more was not coming I said, “Okay.”
“Is it okay? Really?”
I smiled and nodded, and she let out a long sigh. “That’s such a relief. I was worried you might have thought since we… well, you know, since we did stuff a lot that I was leading you on.”
“I really didn’t.”
“Because,” she said pointedly, “I’m not the type of girl that normally does… the stuff we do without a commitment, but I did do that stuff with you, but now it has to be over. Because I really, really love Brett.”
“Okay. Seriously, no worries,” I assured her. “I've seen RomComs. Hey, I’m happy to be the hot, successful, good looking guy that you left for your soul mate.”
“Actually, Brett’s pretty successful. He’s does some pretty high high-finance, and oh my Lord you should see his apartment – it’s like 2,000 square feet overlooking the skyline. And his family has more money that God.”
“Okay, then I’ll just be the good looking guy you left for your soul mate.”
“He is really, really amazingly good looking.”
We both agreed that life was looking up for Kate. We spent a few more minutes with small talk. We considered a glass of wine and decided we shouldn’t, we shared a few lame “We’ll always have the elevator at the Hilton!” jokes, and then it was time for her to leave. We stood and I put out my hand to shake as she was starting in for a hug, and then we each reversed to match the other, and finally she just stepped in and hugged me.
“Goodbye, David.”
“Goodbye, Kate.”
We stood there for a few minutes, hugging each other goodbye. And then, somehow, we weren’t hugging each other goodbye anymore. Hands that embraced began to move; the growing bulge in my pants was met with small, tiny movements from her hips. The warm breath on necks turned hot and heavy, and then it was lips on those necks, and then teeth, and eventually our two mouths found each other.
The kissing continued as our hands feverishly fumbled with one another’s buttons, zippers and clasps. Then my hands were clutching at her ass, lifting her off the ground as I pushed her back up against the wall. I was moving my hips up and down, my cock pushing against the slick runway that surrounded her clit. I felt her legs wrap around me, and as our tongues lashed out at one another she whispered, “Please… please…”
I pulled my hips back and then thrust back up and inside of her, burying myself to the hilt in a single stroke.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ you have a big cock!” she barked.
We went at it like that for I don’t know how long, until my arms began to tire from hold her up. I carried her into my bedroom, spun her around and entered her from behind. It was wild and savage, and sight of her amazing ass as she buried her head in the pillow touched primal forces inside of me. I reached down and pulled her up, so that her back was against my chest and my head was over her shoulder. As I plucked at her hard nipples I growled in her ear, “Since you’re leaving me for another man, maybe I should take you in your ass.”
She let out a moan, and, astonishingly, I found myself completely unsurprised when I heard her reply, “Maybe you should.”
An hour later, sprawled against damp sheets, my thigh draping her legs, I reiterated what I had just said.
“Seriously, this really has been the most fun I’ve ever had breaking up with someone.”
“You,” she said as she continued to stare at the ceiling, “are a pig. I can’t believe you put it in my ass.”
“I can’t believe you let me,” I said cheerfully, for I was feeling most cheerful indeed.
“You’re such a tool.” She lightly whacked me on the head with her hand.
“I have a tool. It’s quite big.”
“Pffft. It’s not nearly as big as you like to think.”
“Really?” I grinned at her, “Because just a little while ago I heard someone telling Jesus otherwise.” I leaned down and kissed her breasts, darting my tongue out at her still-hard nipples.
“I really hate you sometimes,” she said, her breathing starting to quicken again.
“Then it’s a good thing we’re breaking up,” I allowed, and my tongue and grazing teeth began to make their way down her taught stomach.
“We’re not breaking up, I’m breaking up with you. For someone better looking and more successful and better liked by everyone than you - you left that part out.” Her words were becoming a purr.
“Best. Breakup. Ever,” I said in between long laps of my tongue up her thighs.
“Fuck you,” she said, pulling my head deep between her legs.
______________________________
A month later, I was killing time before meeting some friends for a 10:00 show from one of our favorite local bands. I had only seen Kate once since our breakup; that had been just a couple of days after our breakup. She’d called and wanted to apologize for “giving me the wrong idea.” She wanted to leave as just friends and didn't want our last interaction to be all about sex, she said, so would it be possible to swing by her place?
“Nothing will happen,” she said firmly. “Partly because I’m almost engaged, and partly because Brett will be coming over in about an hour, so I wouldn't let anything happen. Plus I have my period, and I never have sex when I have my period.” So I went over and said goodbye, and then spent the rest of the afternoon icing the welts on my back she had left with her fingernails. “Tell me what you want me to do to you,” I had whispered in her ear at one point, only to be told “Anything but missionary. I’m starting to fucking hate missionary.” I had not seen her since.
I still had a couple of hours to kill before the show, so I decided to get a drink at my favorite downtown hotel. It’s a landmark in our city, primarily for the restaurant and bar which are world class. It’s all in one enormous room with twenty-foot ceilings, and everything about it is very old-school. All the tables all have starched white linen, the wait staff is dressed black tie, and the bar itself is a thing of beauty from a bygone era: Fifteen feet high, solid dark mahogany with a mirror inset, and rows and rows of every kind of scotch known to man. It is very popular, and always packed.
“Table for one?” asked the hostess as I walked in. She was young and pretty, with long red hair and what looked to be an amazing pair of breasts under her tuxedo shirt, and I found myself wondering if she liked live music. I had not had sex in a few weeks, and was feeling famished.
“No, I’m just looking to see if there’s room at the bar. But it looks like there isn’t.”
She glanced over and peered across the cavernous space. “Oh, actually, there’s one last one right there. It’s on the side where the lightings bad, so it’s hard to see.”
“Oh, I see, thanks. You know, actually if you’re not doing… Huh.”
I was just about to say that I would rather stay and talk with her for a while if she didn’t mind, when I was stopped short by what I saw in the bar’s mirror. There on the end, right by the corner the hostess has pointed to, was Kate. Her hand was on the arm of a blond haired gentlemen whom, I had a funny feeling, was known 'round these parts as “Brett.”
“Yes?” asked the hostess, patiently waiting for me to finish.
“Um, nothing. Thanks.”
I walked through the tables toward the bar. As I got closer, I could see Kate smiling attentively at her new beau as he held court. As the beau turned to call to the bartender, Kate glanced in the mirror to quickly check her hair and saw me walking toward her. He eyes went wide, and she looked panicked for just a second. Then her eyes narrowed, and through a scowl she stage-mouthed, “GO, AWAY.” Then her new almost-fiancé-really turned back around, and her head snapped back toward him, her scowl instantly replaced by that marveling smile.
As I walked past, I quickly took in the scene. Both Kate and Brett were standing at the bar; in fact, Kate was standing just at the actual corner. Next to Brett sat a pair of young college age girls, looking excited just to be out on the town. And (God-damn-it!) Brett was in fact very, very good looking – like, male model good looking. And there was no doubt as to the ballpark price of the Armani blazer that hung from his (God-damn-it!) broad and (God-damn-it!) muscular shoulders. If it weren’t for his date, he’d have easily been the best looking person in the whole joint.
Kate looked like a model herself, dressed in a cocktail dress that would make the devil himself weep. Its neckline plunged, but only just so. There was more promise of cleavage than cleavage itself - but my goodness, the cut of the dress promised that cleavage on its crossed heart and hoped to die. The skirt of the dress hung fairly loosely, but did so in a way that let you know exactly how those hips and ass would fit in your hands. And as I got closer I could tell that the slip up the side went very high indeed. I don’t know enough about women’s clothes to even have a guess at where you would buy such a dress, but I knew enough to know it wasn’t taken down from any rack. And I knew enough about female bodies to know that whoever designed the damn thing lucked out when it was presented to the all the world on a body like Kate’s.
I walked past her to the side of the bar, back in the least well-lit corner of the entire restaurant. It was just big enough for one low-riding barstool.
“That’s my chair,” said Kate quickly as I pulled it out. “I’m sorry, but it’s mine and it’s taken. I’m afraid you’ll have to go find another spot.”
“No honey, your chair is right here.” Brett pulled out stool from the other side of the corner. “Would you like to sit? We can sit.” I could see the gears whirl in Kate’s head, as she tried to figure out exactly how she could convince Brett there was no room for me on the empty barstool without letting him know why. She gave up.
“No,” sighed Kate, “I don’t want to sit. I’m happy standing.”
“There you go! Pull up a stool, mi amigo!” beamed Brett the Mighty, Solver of Seating Issues.
“Thanks,” I said sitting down, “but I’m about to meet friends. I’m just here for a quickie.” Kate’s eyes shot daggers.
“Hey, awesome! Do you like Macallans? We’re drinking Macallans. Katiey here loves Macallans. Hey, bartender, can we get a Macallans over here for mi amigo? Double, please. And hey, put can ya our drinks on his tab?” Brett laughed hard at his joke, and the college girls next to him laughed with him on cue. They were clearly enthralled with the handsome, rich man they’d found themselves next to for the evening.
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The bartender looked over at me.
“Macallans, sure.”
I was starting to worry that I might actually have to interact with Brett, who, I was beginning to realize, I would probably have disliked even if he weren’t above me in the All-Kate-Rankings. This was a baseless fear , however. Brett had the room’s most beautiful woman and two really good looking twenty-one year olds at his disposal. I was quickly forgotten as he went back to holding court, which apparently involved letting the ladies know the comparative pluses and minuses of various high-end automobiles.
Kate was making sure to keep her back to me, but being just and inch of two away from her I was close enough to hear her say, “Lovey, can you bookmark this topic? I really do want to hear more, but could you be a sweet bear-bear and get me a mint from the hostess table? I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth I need to get rid of.”
“Sure, bear-bear,” replied Brett, not bothering to hide his annoyance at having to leave the co-eds in the lurch. “Stay right here ladies, and remind me where I was when I get back!”
“Okay!” chirped the coeds in unison, giggling.
Kate watched him as he walked to the hostess table, and when she was sure he was too far to hear her in the din, she snapped her head around and spat-whispered into my ear.
“Okay, look here, I don’t know why you’re here and I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I am out with my fucking fiancé –“
“Fucking almost-fiance.”
“ – my fucking almost-fiancé and we are having a romantic evening out which is going to be followed by a lot of sex that will in no way involve you and so you’re going to sit there and you’re not going to say a word and I’m not going to notice you again tonight and you will do nothing to let anyone know that I know you, and if you don’t so help me God I am going to rip out your spleen and do, I don’t know, something with it - I don’t really know what a spleen is - but so help me Fuck I will fucking rip it fucking out, do I make myself fucking clear?”
She pulled back and looked at me in the eye.
“Hey, I’m just here for the Macallan. Then I’m meeting friends. In half an hour I’ll be across town.”
She peered into my face, trying to determine if I was telling the truth. Deciding I was, she looked relieved. Then, realizing I really hadn’t come here to see here, she looked a little disappointed.
“Well, all right then.” She turned back around at the coeds, who were watching us intently, and stared them down. “What the fuck are you two looking at?” The girls, startled, stared quietly down into their drinks until Brett returned.
“Hey ladies! Let’s see some smiles, you knew I was coming back!”
It’s important for you to know, dear reader, that up until this moment I really had nothing but the most honorable of intentions. Really; I swear. Sure, I was plenty curious about Kate’s new almost-fiancé-really, but I really thought when I walked over she’d introduce me as an old friend and then I’d go chat up the hot red-headed hostess. Again: I swear.
But here’s the thing: The rant Kate had just given me was delivered with the same kind of growling intensity she used when she would say “fuck me,” or “lick that pussy,” or “slam your fucking cock so deep,” or any of the thousands of other dirty things that Kate-Kate would never say in a million years but Bedroom-Kate would bark out with gusto. And with her unbelievable backside turned to me, it was suddenly impossible to shake the image of my cock pulling out of her ass that day she broke things off, my white hot cum shooting so long and hard that it covered not only her cheeks and back, but matted into her hair as well.
Fuck it, I thought.
I carefully moved an inch or so to my right, until my hip touched hers. She neither moved, nor glanced at me in the mirror. I put the tiniest amount of pressure into it, barely anything at all but enough to let her know our being joined at the hips (so to speak) was not entirely accidental. I counted a couple of minutes as I waited for her to move away, but nothing happened.
Then: A tiny, almost imperceptible push back.
I stood and waved to the bartender. “Can I get just one more?”
Brett remembered momentarily that I existed and said, “I know, Macallans is the bomb! Right mi amigo?” before disappearing back into Coed Land. As the bartender poured the second double in front of me, I looked straight ahead across to the other side of the bar, where other, lesser Bretts were working to impress other, lesser Kates. The bartender took my money, and with my left hand I slowly lifted the glass to my lips. It was dark and smoky, and as I closed my eyes and tipped it back slightly, I remembered back to the evening we’d accidently dropped a bottle of Macallans while lying in Kate’s bed. I had gotten her to resist the temptation to immediately change the sheets by tracing dirty words in her skin with my scotch soaked finger, and then licking the words clean. I opened my eyes after the longest and smallest of sips, and saw Kate glancing at me in the mirror. The tiny tug at one corner of her mouth was all I needed to realize that Kate had known exactly what I was thinking about.
My right hand moved from my side to her bottom, and I let me fingers linger there briefly. She looked at me in the mirror enough to roll her eyes, and give me a facial expression that gave a dry “Really?” She looked back at the other three, and I moved my hand over to the slit in her dress, and the pushed my fingers under the fabric. In the mirror, I could see here eyebrows shoot straight up.
I caressed the cheek of her bottom lightly for a moment, and then let my fingers wander down. I could feel her clench her legs shut tight. She glanced at the mirror with a stern look that said “Don’t you dare.” I slowly caressed the back of her thighs, my fingertips stroking, massaging, and teasing ever so slowly and gently. I could feel her breathing begin to draw deeper, and I could feel the heat of her rising from her flesh. But her legs would not move.
Brett and the coeds were still obliviously carrying on their own discussion of Something Really Awesome About Brett. I decided to take a bit of a chance, and turned my head toward the room, as if searching the crowd for people I knew. As I craned my head to look about, I let out a growl into her ear. It was a very quiet growl, one that only she would have been able to hear. But it was also a growl that no one at the bar would have been able to identify other than Kate. It was a smaller, faster, and much quieter version of the growl I make when I cum.
As I heard Kate’s quick intake of breath, I felt her legs part as she shifted her feet and widened her stance.
I withdrew my hand, and saw in the mirror that Kate looked confused. But I wasn’t trying to tease; I just needed a better angle. I was too high standing, so I pulled the low-riding bar stool up. This made me the shortest person at a bar of standing people, but served it’s purpose. I glanced again at the mirror as I slipped my hand back under the fabric, and I saw the faintest of smiles cross Kate’s face.
Her panties were already getting wet. They were made of some kind of a very sheer, silky lace, and I could feel skin as well as fabric. I gave a little slump at the bar, which I hoped looked to all the world like a man just hunkering down, but which was really designed to allow me to reach up between her legs to find her clit. It was already swollen, and as I began to trace light circles around it I could feel the moisture begin to flow.
As I did all of this, I kept an eye on the mirror. Part of the reason was certainly the possibility of people approaching or Brett focusing again on his almost-fiancé-really rather than the coeds, so that I could quickly remove my hand if need be. But the other reason was to watch Kate’s face. It was a mask of attentiveness, but I could see the subtle changes it made when I pushed down here, or swirled there, or gave a quick teak anywhere. To the rest of the world here face was expressionless; to me, it was a vast symphony that I was lucky enough to be conducting.
Sipping me scotch, I decided I was pressing my luck. I didn’t really want to be the cause of a catastrophic evening for Kate, so I decided to bring this symphony to its final movement. With Kate, I have long known that if I draw the right-sized figure-8, with just the right amount of pressure and at just the right speed, she is a goner. It can be my finger, or my tongue, or my lips, or my cock, or even (one time, anyway) my thigh – it doesn’t matter. She’ll come quickly, and she’ll cum often. It’s just her anti-orgasm kryptonite. So I decided to figure 8 now and let her get on with her evening.
As I increased the speed, I could see her chest star to rise and fall; the skin above her neckline began to glisten. I increased my spend just a touch, and could feel her body just about to let loose.
“Hey, they were fun, weren’t they?”
I froze in mid figure 8. I had been so entranced watching the subtle symphony of desire play itself out on Kate’s face and bosom that I hadn’t noticed the coeds leaving. Brett’s attentions were now firmly focused once more on his almost-fiancé-really. I was still around the corner of the bar, as was most of Kate, and so he could not see that my hand was turning his “bear-bear” into a tigress. But I now wondered if Kate could get away with actually cumming with him looking directly at her. She must have been reading my mind, because she quickly shook her head hard.
“Oh, you didn’t like them? I bet you’re just jealous.” He gave a self-satisfied laugh. “You wanna get one more drink for the road?”
Kate sat there frozen, expressionless and seemingly undecided, and I began to wonder if she was ever going to answer him at all. Finally, she said, “I think maybe I’ve had enough for one evening. Maybe we should go eat.”
“Okay, “ he said, obviously disappointed. As he flagged the bartender, I once again began to slowly make figure 8s. I heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Um... You know, why don’t we stay for just one more?” Kate said suddenly.
“Great! Hey, bartender!”
I knew it was not time to bring Kate over the edge with Brett focused on her, but I still wanted to play. If I had more space to work with I’d have worked my hand under her panties, but I doubted at my current angle I could do so in a way that wouldn’t have raised Brett’s suspicion. I felt the fabric of the panties, so sheer and lacy, and said to myself, fuck it. Gripping the fabric hard I forced first my index finger through the lace, then other fingers, and ripped a huge whole it Kate’s panties. Before she could finish the “What the fuck?” look she was just starting to give me in the mirror, I plunged two fingers inside of her.
“OH,” she cried.
“What?” asked Brett, turning back to face her.
“Oooohhhh my goodness I am happy we’re having one more,” said Kate rather loudly.
“Yeah, Macallans are the best,” agreed Brett, and the returned to the bartender.
As she had her last drink, I continued to poke, prod, pry and massage. My hand was soaking, and eventually I felt her pelvis begin to sway and grind ever so subtly. I knew what that normally meant, of course. It meant she was ready to come.
I looked at her in the mirror, an expression on my face I hoped would communicate, “Are you sure?” A moment later Brett turned said hello to the couple that taking the coed’s vacated spot, and Kate quickly took the opportunity meet my gaze in the mirror and nod her head. “I can do this,” she mouthed.
As Brett’s attention returned to Kate, so did my figure 8s. Brett yammered on about Brett, and Kate sat playing the part of dutiful listener. Her face was flush, her skin practically glowed, and her chest slowly heaved in a way that might well start wars. As I watched her sit there, radiating a white-hot level of beauty and sex and pleasure, I thought to myself: If I am ever so oblivious that I don’t notice when girl looks this sexy - don’t say fuck it! to the world, take her home immediately and ravage her until dawn - just shoot me.
Fuck it, I said to myself for the umpteenth time that evening, and my fingers I hit the speed I knew would bring in the tide.
When she came, her legs clenched hard around my hand. In the mirror, I saw her teeth clench down on the edge of her glass. The knuckles of her free hand turned briefly white as she clutched at the bar’s edge. But I was looking for these signs; I don’t think anyone else did. Brett certainly didn’t. When she finally released my fingers, I quietly slipped them out of the slit in her dress. Using my right hand, I raised my glass, closed my eyes, and savored the scent of both Kate and the scotch. I silently toasted her as I drained the glass, and if you think that sounds somehow less spiritual than a prayer to God Almighty it’s only because you’ve never cleaved to a woman like her.
“Thanks,” I said to the bartender, and to Kate, and to the universe. I tipped larger than was necessary, got up, and walked out.
“Some of us are going over to the Belmont later to do karaoke and martinis,” said the red-haired hostess as I was saying goodnight. “You maybe want to meet us?”
“No, I think I’m good,” I said. “Another night, though.”
I didn’t end up meeting my friends. I went home instead and called it an early night. I hadn’t had any sex at all, but I felt as drained as if I’d fucked all night. I was fast asleep before my head even hit the pillow.
Around 3:00 the buzzing from my phone briefly woke me. Fumbling, I picked it up to see that I’d just received a text.
Don’t go anywhere 2morrow. Will be there @ 8:30 to explain how we can’t see eachothr. Plan on this explnation taking at least 3hrs.
I smiled, rolled over to set my alarm, and slept the sleep of fallen angels.
“Macallans, sure.”
I was starting to worry that I might actually have to interact with Brett, who, I was beginning to realize, I would probably have disliked even if he weren’t above me in the All-Kate-Rankings. This was a baseless fear , however. Brett had the room’s most beautiful woman and two really good looking twenty-one year olds at his disposal. I was quickly forgotten as he went back to holding court, which apparently involved letting the ladies know the comparative pluses and minuses of various high-end automobiles.
Kate was making sure to keep her back to me, but being just and inch of two away from her I was close enough to hear her say, “Lovey, can you bookmark this topic? I really do want to hear more, but could you be a sweet bear-bear and get me a mint from the hostess table? I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth I need to get rid of.”
“Sure, bear-bear,” replied Brett, not bothering to hide his annoyance at having to leave the co-eds in the lurch. “Stay right here ladies, and remind me where I was when I get back!”
“Okay!” chirped the coeds in unison, giggling.
Kate watched him as he walked to the hostess table, and when she was sure he was too far to hear her in the din, she snapped her head around and spat-whispered into my ear.
“Okay, look here, I don’t know why you’re here and I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I am out with my fucking fiancé –“
“Fucking almost-fiance.”
“ – my fucking almost-fiancé and we are having a romantic evening out which is going to be followed by a lot of sex that will in no way involve you and so you’re going to sit there and you’re not going to say a word and I’m not going to notice you again tonight and you will do nothing to let anyone know that I know you, and if you don’t so help me God I am going to rip out your spleen and do, I don’t know, something with it - I don’t really know what a spleen is - but so help me Fuck I will fucking rip it fucking out, do I make myself fucking clear?”
She pulled back and looked at me in the eye.
“Hey, I’m just here for the Macallan. Then I’m meeting friends. In half an hour I’ll be across town.”
She peered into my face, trying to determine if I was telling the truth. Deciding I was, she looked relieved. Then, realizing I really hadn’t come here to see here, she looked a little disappointed.
“Well, all right then.” She turned back around at the coeds, who were watching us intently, and stared them down. “What the fuck are you two looking at?” The girls, startled, stared quietly down into their drinks until Brett returned.
“Hey ladies! Let’s see some smiles, you knew I was coming back!”
It’s important for you to know, dear reader, that up until this moment I really had nothing but the most honorable of intentions. Really; I swear. Sure, I was plenty curious about Kate’s new almost-fiancé-really, but I really thought when I walked over she’d introduce me as an old friend and then I’d go chat up the hot red-headed hostess. Again: I swear.
But here’s the thing: The rant Kate had just given me was delivered with the same kind of growling intensity she used when she would say “fuck me,” or “lick that pussy,” or “slam your fucking cock so deep,” or any of the thousands of other dirty things that Kate-Kate would never say in a million years but Bedroom-Kate would bark out with gusto. And with her unbelievable backside turned to me, it was suddenly impossible to shake the image of my cock pulling out of her ass that day she broke things off, my white hot cum shooting so long and hard that it covered not only her cheeks and back, but matted into her hair as well.
Fuck it, I thought.
I carefully moved an inch or so to my right, until my hip touched hers. She neither moved, nor glanced at me in the mirror. I put the tiniest amount of pressure into it, barely anything at all but enough to let her know our being joined at the hips (so to speak) was not entirely accidental. I counted a couple of minutes as I waited for her to move away, but nothing happened.
Then: A tiny, almost imperceptible push back.
I stood and waved to the bartender. “Can I get just one more?”
Brett remembered momentarily that I existed and said, “I know, Macallans is the bomb! Right mi amigo?” before disappearing back into Coed Land. As the bartender poured the second double in front of me, I looked straight ahead across to the other side of the bar, where other, lesser Bretts were working to impress other, lesser Kates. The bartender took my money, and with my left hand I slowly lifted the glass to my lips. It was dark and smoky, and as I closed my eyes and tipped it back slightly, I remembered back to the evening we’d accidently dropped a bottle of Macallans while lying in Kate’s bed. I had gotten her to resist the temptation to immediately change the sheets by tracing dirty words in her skin with my scotch soaked finger, and then licking the words clean. I opened my eyes after the longest and smallest of sips, and saw Kate glancing at me in the mirror. The tiny tug at one corner of her mouth was all I needed to realize that Kate had known exactly what I was thinking about.
My right hand moved from my side to her bottom, and I let me fingers linger there briefly. She looked at me in the mirror enough to roll her eyes, and give me a facial expression that gave a dry “Really?” She looked back at the other three, and I moved my hand over to the slit in her dress, and the pushed my fingers under the fabric. In the mirror, I could see here eyebrows shoot straight up.
I caressed the cheek of her bottom lightly for a moment, and then let my fingers wander down. I could feel her clench her legs shut tight. She glanced at the mirror with a stern look that said “Don’t you dare.” I slowly caressed the back of her thighs, my fingertips stroking, massaging, and teasing ever so slowly and gently. I could feel her breathing begin to draw deeper, and I could feel the heat of her rising from her flesh. But her legs would not move.
Brett and the coeds were still obliviously carrying on their own discussion of Something Really Awesome About Brett. I decided to take a bit of a chance, and turned my head toward the room, as if searching the crowd for people I knew. As I craned my head to look about, I let out a growl into her ear. It was a very quiet growl, one that only she would have been able to hear. But it was also a growl that no one at the bar would have been able to identify other than Kate. It was a smaller, faster, and much quieter version of the growl I make when I cum.
As I heard Kate’s quick intake of breath, I felt her legs part as she shifted her feet and widened her stance.
I withdrew my hand, and saw in the mirror that Kate looked confused. But I wasn’t trying to tease; I just needed a better angle. I was too high standing, so I pulled the low-riding bar stool up. This made me the shortest person at a bar of standing people, but served it’s purpose. I glanced again at the mirror as I slipped my hand back under the fabric, and I saw the faintest of smiles cross Kate’s face.
Her panties were already getting wet. They were made of some kind of a very sheer, silky lace, and I could feel skin as well as fabric. I gave a little slump at the bar, which I hoped looked to all the world like a man just hunkering down, but which was really designed to allow me to reach up between her legs to find her clit. It was already swollen, and as I began to trace light circles around it I could feel the moisture begin to flow.
As I did all of this, I kept an eye on the mirror. Part of the reason was certainly the possibility of people approaching or Brett focusing again on his almost-fiancé-really rather than the coeds, so that I could quickly remove my hand if need be. But the other reason was to watch Kate’s face. It was a mask of attentiveness, but I could see the subtle changes it made when I pushed down here, or swirled there, or gave a quick teak anywhere. To the rest of the world here face was expressionless; to me, it was a vast symphony that I was lucky enough to be conducting.
Sipping me scotch, I decided I was pressing my luck. I didn’t really want to be the cause of a catastrophic evening for Kate, so I decided to bring this symphony to its final movement. With Kate, I have long known that if I draw the right-sized figure-8, with just the right amount of pressure and at just the right speed, she is a goner. It can be my finger, or my tongue, or my lips, or my cock, or even (one time, anyway) my thigh – it doesn’t matter. She’ll come quickly, and she’ll cum often. It’s just her anti-orgasm kryptonite. So I decided to figure 8 now and let her get on with her evening.
As I increased the speed, I could see her chest star to rise and fall; the skin above her neckline began to glisten. I increased my spend just a touch, and could feel her body just about to let loose.
“Hey, they were fun, weren’t they?”
I froze in mid figure 8. I had been so entranced watching the subtle symphony of desire play itself out on Kate’s face and bosom that I hadn’t noticed the coeds leaving. Brett’s attentions were now firmly focused once more on his almost-fiancé-really. I was still around the corner of the bar, as was most of Kate, and so he could not see that my hand was turning his “bear-bear” into a tigress. But I now wondered if Kate could get away with actually cumming with him looking directly at her. She must have been reading my mind, because she quickly shook her head hard.
“Oh, you didn’t like them? I bet you’re just jealous.” He gave a self-satisfied laugh. “You wanna get one more drink for the road?”
Kate sat there frozen, expressionless and seemingly undecided, and I began to wonder if she was ever going to answer him at all. Finally, she said, “I think maybe I’ve had enough for one evening. Maybe we should go eat.”
“Okay, “ he said, obviously disappointed. As he flagged the bartender, I once again began to slowly make figure 8s. I heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Um... You know, why don’t we stay for just one more?” Kate said suddenly.
“Great! Hey, bartender!”
I knew it was not time to bring Kate over the edge with Brett focused on her, but I still wanted to play. If I had more space to work with I’d have worked my hand under her panties, but I doubted at my current angle I could do so in a way that wouldn’t have raised Brett’s suspicion. I felt the fabric of the panties, so sheer and lacy, and said to myself, fuck it. Gripping the fabric hard I forced first my index finger through the lace, then other fingers, and ripped a huge whole it Kate’s panties. Before she could finish the “What the fuck?” look she was just starting to give me in the mirror, I plunged two fingers inside of her.
“OH,” she cried.
“What?” asked Brett, turning back to face her.
“Oooohhhh my goodness I am happy we’re having one more,” said Kate rather loudly.
“Yeah, Macallans are the best,” agreed Brett, and the returned to the bartender.
As she had her last drink, I continued to poke, prod, pry and massage. My hand was soaking, and eventually I felt her pelvis begin to sway and grind ever so subtly. I knew what that normally meant, of course. It meant she was ready to come.
I looked at her in the mirror, an expression on my face I hoped would communicate, “Are you sure?” A moment later Brett turned said hello to the couple that taking the coed’s vacated spot, and Kate quickly took the opportunity meet my gaze in the mirror and nod her head. “I can do this,” she mouthed.
As Brett’s attention returned to Kate, so did my figure 8s. Brett yammered on about Brett, and Kate sat playing the part of dutiful listener. Her face was flush, her skin practically glowed, and her chest slowly heaved in a way that might well start wars. As I watched her sit there, radiating a white-hot level of beauty and sex and pleasure, I thought to myself: If I am ever so oblivious that I don’t notice when girl looks this sexy - don’t say fuck it! to the world, take her home immediately and ravage her until dawn - just shoot me.
Fuck it, I said to myself for the umpteenth time that evening, and my fingers I hit the speed I knew would bring in the tide.
When she came, her legs clenched hard around my hand. In the mirror, I saw her teeth clench down on the edge of her glass. The knuckles of her free hand turned briefly white as she clutched at the bar’s edge. But I was looking for these signs; I don’t think anyone else did. Brett certainly didn’t. When she finally released my fingers, I quietly slipped them out of the slit in her dress. Using my right hand, I raised my glass, closed my eyes, and savored the scent of both Kate and the scotch. I silently toasted her as I drained the glass, and if you think that sounds somehow less spiritual than a prayer to God Almighty it’s only because you’ve never cleaved to a woman like her.
“Thanks,” I said to the bartender, and to Kate, and to the universe. I tipped larger than was necessary, got up, and walked out.
“Some of us are going over to the Belmont later to do karaoke and martinis,” said the red-haired hostess as I was saying goodnight. “You maybe want to meet us?”
“No, I think I’m good,” I said. “Another night, though.”
I didn’t end up meeting my friends. I went home instead and called it an early night. I hadn’t had any sex at all, but I felt as drained as if I’d fucked all night. I was fast asleep before my head even hit the pillow.
Around 3:00 the buzzing from my phone briefly woke me. Fumbling, I picked it up to see that I’d just received a text.
Don’t go anywhere 2morrow. Will be there @ 8:30 to explain how we can’t see eachothr. Plan on this explnation taking at least 3hrs.
I smiled, rolled over to set my alarm, and slept the sleep of fallen angels.
