I continued to enjoy the single life. I was twenty-seven years old, making good money in a socially visible position at a trendy night spot, becoming a first-time homeowner, and working through my ever-changing list of chicks to bang with regular success.
There was another one of those new waitresses, Heather, a perky-breasted brunette from Colorado with a butter smooth pussy that went off like a machine gun. Sex with her involved an ego trip that started in PoundingChestown with multiple stops in Envyville when counting the number of orgasms she would have. I soon realized it was better not to. Heather was added to the list on the day she interviewed, her checkmark earned the night after her third shift.
I also got to check another one off around that time who had actually been on my list for a while, Sara Beth. A beautiful blonde woman, slightly older, who I would see at the bar where locals would go to find some competitive games of pool. I played there a lot. Her boyfriend was also a pool player and he would drag her along so she could watch and see how good he was, or thought he was.
We were among the dozen or so serious players you would find at the tables on any given night. I made a habit of debasing him in front of his girl by regularly kicking his ass. She seemed to enjoy my humbling performances almost as much as I did. She and I had never really talked. He was a controlling type; she hardly talked to any of the guys, if at all.
One night she came in alone, just for drinks. We ended up having what was our first actual conversation. He was out of town, Eugene I’m guessing, as the last thing she said to me while paying her tab was, “Will you follow me to my place so I can fuck you?”
We were in her living room for hours, on the floor, her bent over part of the sectional, her riding me every-which-cowgirl-way on another. We didn't talk much, even between orgasms. She'd just lie next to me, her head on my chest. Playing with her hair while cuddling and starting to stiffen for a final fuck for the night, I asked if she was into anal.
She said she had tried it a couple of times with her boyfriend and liked it, but that it was ultimately too painful to do for more that a minute or two, and that her ass ended up being sore for a couple days after. I then asked her if she wanted to try it with me and maybe it would be different.
"Oh, fuck no," she stated with certainty. "Your cock is longer and fatter than his is. You would fucking kill me. And besides, I want to thank you for coming over tonight by sucking you dry when you cum this time. I don't want to be thinking about tasting my own ass when I do."
"When you say sucking me dry, do you mean locking your lips onto the head of my cock and sucking the cum out of it like it was a straw?" I suggestively inquired.
"Of course. That's the only way to do it right," she declared.
And with one last glorious, toe curling, uncontrollable giggling of an orgasm, our one-night affair came to an end. I assumed that we had managed to pull it off secretly enough that it would always be our little secret, but he must have caught wind of it somehow. From then on he disliked me even more. At the bar, he would just glare at me. We never played pool again either. Whatever, tiny dick. Check.....
But Christy’s name remained on the list, or now I would say, lingered. We had had some moments of intense flirtation. I would entice her by offering back rubs or requesting one from her. I got her shirt off a couple of times, but she would profess her love and commitment to John, the married dick that lived up the street. Sharing the couch one night, our conversation turned to blowjobs, and she told me how much she liked giving them.
“What a coincidence, I love receiving them,” I suggestively proclaimed.
With her mind considering it, and her tongue aching to lick her lips, she looked down at my crotch and deflatingly uttered, “Too bad for you that I’m not drunk, or I probably would, and you’d love it. Anyway, it’s late. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”
Close but no cigar. Fucking Christy….
A couple days later I was driving back after a full day flyfishing for steelhead. The river is about a two hour’s drive from the house, and I ended up stopping by the bar for a couple beers before making it home. It was getting pretty late by the time I did. When I walked through the door, Christy was still up watching TV in the living room. She greeted me with an oddly coquettish gaze and questioned why I was so late. It was obvious that she had been drinking, and noticing the full glass near the lamp, I realized she still was. This could be my chance.
“I fished until dark, then stopped for a few beers. What are you, my mother?”
She was worried about me she said, “And I heard you leave before the sun came up, so was just surprised that you were gone all day. Tired, I bet.”
She was slurring a bit, but nothing I hadn’t seen before from her. Thinking she might be ripe for showing me those cock sucking skills, I played a familiar card.
“I think I’m more sore than tired. Casting flies all day and then the long drive has my back and shoulders in knots. Can I talk you out of a quick back rub? I’ll try to return the favor if it doesn’t turn me into jello.”
After a bit of back and forth she agreed, but I had to promise to reciprocate, jello or not.
I went back to my room, stripped down and put on a clean pair of boxers. Feeling confident, I freshened up in the bathroom, brushed my teeth and scrubbed the fish smell from my hands. Returning to the living room, I tossed a blanket on the floor in front of the TV. I stretched out face down on the blanket, and glanced over at Christy to thank her for agreeing to the trade. That’s when I noticed the glass that was full a few minutes was suddenly empty. Her slurring seemed more profound when she stated that she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to massage me.
“If the room stops spinning it won’t be a problem,” she added as she straddled my lower legs and dug her thumbs into my upper back.
Fine by me if she wants to cut it short. This was all just an excuse to get damn near naked and then start rubbing her bare back and seeing how far it goes. Things are looking good.
Her athletic legs and firm little ass didn’t happen by chance. She was an All-State field hockey player in high school and her lower body strength was matched with powerful hands and forearms. Despite my alternative reasoning behind requesting back rubs from her, she was actually very good at it. Her stronger than average hands probed deep into my back, shoulders and by request, my glutes.
She did end up turning me into jello, and by the time she slapped me on the ass and stood up, I had forgotten all about the plan I had that led us here. I rolled over onto my back and looking back over my left shoulder, I saw Christy stumble over to her drink, only to remember having finished it already when nothing came out upon tilting it to her lips. I just shook my head faced back towards the ceiling and closed my eyes, enjoying the relaxation my body just received.
“Oh fuck, I’m pretty drunk”, she garbled, then spun around and stumbled back towards me, falling head first towards my midsection. She tried to brace her fall by reaching her hands out in front of her and just so happened to catch the waistband of my boxers with her right hand. I lifted my head to see her on the blanket near my feet, my boxers at my knees and my partially aroused cock fully exposed between the two of us, being stared at.
