0 comments/ 15105 views/ 7 favorites Fridays By: Blushingsub3262 Part One I was at work on a Friday morning going through a brief when one of my colleagues at the firm peaked in my half open doorway. This particular woman, Sandra, has become more than a casual workplace friend; I would go so far as to say that she has crossed the no-man's land between water cooler buddy to actual friend. "Go out with us tonight," she whispered conspiratorially. "Us" is a group of single women from our firm who go out partying on a regular basis, cutting a path of sex and emotional upheaval (for themselves) throughout the Charlotte metropolitan area. I have been privy to the Monday morning recaps on several occasions, my status as a married (albeit separated) mother with a reputation for being able to keep her mouth shut making me a natural confessor, even for the women who don't really know me very well. I've listened to them cry over men that they met "out" on Friday, fucked in the wee hours of Saturday, and then never heard from again. Or for variety, they cried over married men who gave them stock stories of marital angst and then toyed with them for a few weeks or months before ultimately going back to their wives more or less full time or moving on to new prey. I've dried tears and given sisterly advice and never once felt the slightest desire to step into this singles scene morass. "Ummm, I really need to get home early and spend some quality time with the kids -- besides, I don't have child care." My girlfriend smirked at me. "You can only hide behind these excuses for so long..." I started to counter, but she was already gone. I sighed and tried to concentrate on the brief in front of me. David had been gone for two months at that point, and I was beginning to get used to his absence in some ways, but in other ways, the void in my life was becoming impossible to ignore. I had been used to the rhythm of our life, the cadence, the rituals that make up the life of a couple whose public lives were impeccably professional and orderly, but whose private life held all of the dark secrets of Dominance and submission. I had broken loose of David when he broke my trust in ways that I found irrevocable, and the independent woman in me rose up and silenced the submissive. I had slipped off my collar and handed it to him, at the same time that I asked him to move out of our house, away from me, away from our children, away from our life. He had looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow, but his absolute dignity and self control allowed him no response other than to comply with my wishes, and to turn his back on this woman who dared to rise up against him and take a stand. So now I was alone. Alone with my thoughts, alone with my memories, and alone with my needs. I missed him more than I was willing to admit to myself, and the needs were growing more insistent each day. In spite of this, I couldn't bring myself to go out to a club with the girls and display myself like a prize heifer at a cattle show. Likewise, I had no interest in going to a "play party" and giving myself to faceless strangers just to keep from having to have my orgasms alone. I wanted...I wanted...I wanted my husband back. That was the truth of it. I wanted him back the way that it had been before all of the lies and betrayal, before he had broken my heart and destroyed my trust. I gave up on the brief and grabbed my purse. Of all the perks that exist as a partner firm, the most precious is the ability to leave when you like without answering to anyone. I rode down the elevator consumed with my thoughts of David and our past life. I missed a thousand little things, but lately, I missed the sex most of all. We had been so compatible it seemed, the perfect blend of Dominance and submission, his streak of sadism meshed perfectly with my streak of masochism. We always seemed to tango in step, our sexual moods seeming so synchronized, from the early days of our courtship in law school, up through the birth of our first child. Things had begun to change after that, my instinct to mother overriding my instinct to serve my Master. It became worse with the second baby, of course. The outcome was predictable, lies, betrayal, broken hearts; the trite wreckage of a fallen marriage. But through it all, the passion for each other never died, even though our last couplings were full of unspoken recriminations and hostilities. Finally, the danger became too great, anger is too dangerous in a relationship like ours; it is too easy for what was once love play to become violent or even deadly. So I sent him away, but the lust and love did not leave with him. They stayed with me to mock my nights and even, as now, my days. I decided to go to the gym, with no other real outlet for my physical energies, I had become exercise obsessed. In the way of women who feel threatened and insecure, I found great comfort in the firmness of my flesh and the control of my weight; these things made me feel that I had some control in a world that seemed to have lost its point of orbit. I changed into my exercise clothes quickly and pulled my hair up into a knot, determined to concentrate on nothing but the disciplining of my flesh in the only way that seemed open to me now. The facility was nearly empty; the hour was too early for the lunch crowd, and the stay at home mothers were already gone by that time for the most part. I climbed on a treadmill, slipped in my headphones and began to run. I ran until sweat was starting to pour off me when I noticed a man across the gym staring at me, with a half smile on his face that seemed...familiar somehow. I looked away quickly; his look was unnerving, and it seemed to imply some private knowledge of me. I kept running for another ten minutes, longer than I wanted to, because it took him eight minutes to walk away to the men's locker room as I watched him covertly. He had never stopped looking at me with that half smile the entire time. I got off the treadmill and went into the women's locker room feeling unsettled. The emotion seemed ridiculous, why was I reacting to a random man checking me out in the gym? It wasn't the first time that it had happened, but for some reason this man's look had been almost...as if he knew me, which was ridiculous as well, because I didn't feel that I knew his face at all. He was attractive and fit, but nothing about him stood out to me as familiar. I took a shower, washing my hair and letting it curl the way that it pleased after my shower, not caring if it looked wild, ignoring the voice that whispered to me that I left it that way because that was the way that David had always liked it; not restrained with clips and chignons that way that I usually wore it to the office. I dressed slowly, I had no intention of going back to the office that day, I had already worked more than 40 hours this week, and I wanted freedom, even if only for a few hours before my real life caught back up with me. I wandered out of the locker room and into the lobby of the gym, the smell of something sautéing suddenly made me ravenous, and I decided to eat an early lunch in the gyms café, which was completely empty at this hour. I ordered my food and took a seat in the corner, losing myself in my salad and the fitness magazine that was tucked in the pocket of my gym bag. "Now I know it's you." I jumped slightly in my seat, almost spilling my bottle of water. I turned around and there was the same man, the one who had been staring at me, now dressed in a suit and tie with his hair still damp and combed back. "Excuse me?" I recovered my composure enough to answer him, but I was ridiculously unsettled again, especially with his proximity, and my sudden realization that I found him attractive in a faintly sinister way. I tried to look nonchalant and slightly bored. "I recognize you." "From where?" I sounded defensive even to myself. "I saw you with your Dom at a restaurant in the neighborhood a couple of months ago." "My what??" I said incredulously, hoping that I had misunderstood him. "Your Dominant, the nature of your relationship was obvious from your interaction; you were staring at him with naked adoration, and there was no semblance of equality in the way that you interacted with each other. I was eating alone at the next table, and the two of you fascinated me throughout the entire meal. He chose your food; he fed you the first few bites of your dessert when it came." "He even gave you an almost imperceptible gesture of permission when you mentioned that you needed to visit the ladies room." I felt myself blush at this last remark. "And of course you were collared then...that pretty little collar with the ribbon closure that matched your green dress. Did you change the ribbon to match your clothes?" He said all of this with the same slight smile on his face that he had had while he watched me run, as though I were standing there naked and he were appraising me. "I, I, don't..." "Don't lie about it; it's very unbecoming to a submissive to lie. I see that you're not wearing your collar any longer, I don't mean to be rude, but is that an oversight or is it a sign that you are free?" I could not believe that we were having this conversation, it seemed surreal. I stood up and grabbed my things awkwardly. "I don't know what you mean; you must have me mistaken for someone else..." To my absolute shock he reached up and curled a ringlet around his finger gently and intimately, as though he had a right to touch me that way. Worse, I made no move to stop him. "It's your hair...everything else about you is so...pristine and orderly...your hair speaks of wildness and disorder...it speaks of sex. I watched you that day and imagined pulling your head back by this hair and seeing you look at me the way that you looked at him..." This brazen statement snapped me out of my shock. "I repeat, I don't know what you're talking about, and I need to get back to work". I pushed my hair behind my ear and out of his hand. He smiled with amusement. I started toward the exit and he caught my hand, pressing a card into it. "I work out here at this time on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I'll expect to see you next week. Goodbye until then, submissive". And without another word, he slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left. I stood staring after him, clutching his card in my clenched fist. The nerve of him! Talking to me like that, touching me...Of course, I knew that he had seen me with David, I could remember the day very well, it was one of our last pleasant meals out together before everything exploded. I was caught in the grip of several colliding emotions; embarrassment at having been "outed" by a stranger as a submissive, wistfulness at the memory, and unmistakable attraction for this complete stranger who had invaded my privacy with an almost --proprietary air. I fled from the gym and rushed home. I ran through my empty house up the stairs to my bedroom and pulled off my clothes, filled with urge to wash this agitation away. I took my third shower of the day and scrubbed myself almost raw. When I got out, I felt calmer, and my agitation seemed silly in retrospect. So what this man had noticed the nature of our interaction? We were adults, it was our right to behave as we liked in the confines of our own relationship. I began to lotion myself and when I bent down my hair brushed my cheek as it fell forward, and I felt his hand in my hair again. Inexplicably, I felt myself go wet, a thing that never happened in relation to men who were not David; I had been too well trained. I reached down and touched myself slowly at first, and then faster as I remembered the firmness in his voice when he told me that he expected to see me the following week. It had been so long it seemed, since I had heard that particular tone in a man's voice, and it kindled me as surely as I he had been in the room with me, caressing me. I rubbed myself faster now, imagining his hands on me, the way he would look naked, the way he would feel. I lost myself in the fantasy, my fingers sliding in my wetness and I came with an intensity that I had not felt since David left. I lay on my bed in a daze for a few minutes, and then I began to rise up out of the haze. This was crazy! I was not going to consider meeting up with some stranger who had a notion that he was going to step into the role of dominant in my life. I picked up this card from the floor where it had fallen and tore it up. Part 2 I spent an uneventful weekend with my children; their father and I were alternating our weekends with them at that point. The time flew by and before I knew it, it was Monday. I threw myself into my work with a vengeance. I worked out on Monday and Wednesday, but I went late in the day, so that I would be sure to avoid him. By Friday morning, I was a nervous wreck. I went to work as usual, with every intention of going through my day in a normal way. It didn't help that a court appearance that was scheduled for that morning was rescheduled by the Clerk of the Court, and my calendar was suddenly freed up for the remainder of the day. I sat at my desk in a near panic...I had other work that I could do...I didn't have to go to the gym; I would not go to the gym. Even as I thought it, I knew that I was lying to myself. I picked up my purse, told my secretary that I was gone for the rest of the day, and left the office. The day was soft and lovely, the kind of day that makes you understand why people who live in the South often can't imagine leaving to live anywhere else. The air in April is still light and delicate, without the wet and oppressive heat that summer brings. The azaleas were in bloom in office gardens all over town as I made my way to the gym. I tried to look nonchalant as I walked in, planning to go through my regular routine normally, and if he was there, well...whatever. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand on the small of my back and a voice purring in my ear, "right on time." He took my gym bag out of my hand and slung it over his shoulder. "I don't think you'll need this today." He kept the slight pressure on the small of my bag and guided me back out into the street. I suddenly became terrified. This was how women ended up in ditches, or with their heads cooling as trophies in some maniacs' freezer. "I don't, I can't, this is crazy". He stopped and turned to me. "Look at me." I looked at him uncertainly, not at all sure why I wasn't running for my car. "I am not going to hurt you, and we will stay in public places today so that you can feel safe, understood?" I stared back at him, my instincts telling me that I could trust him...for now. I nodded. He smiled at me approvingly and said "Good girl." He turned to his right and started walking up the block. Wordlessly, I fell into step beside him. We walked along in silence, but interestingly, the silence was comfortable, as if we had already reached some sort of understanding. We walked two blocks to a small Italian restaurant which I had been to in the past, it was chic and trendy, but in spite of that, the food was very good, and the staff was accommodating and pleasant. He asked the hostess for a table in the back, and we settled in, still in silence. Now I felt the weight of the silence. As if sensing this, he began to engage me in small talk to put me at ease, the kind of light banter that two mutually attracted strangers might engage in at a cocktail party. I began to relax a bit, and we both glanced at the menus. He set his aside and looked at me quizzically. "Have you chosen something, or would you like me to choose for you?" I immediately remembered his recounting of seeing me with David, and the intimacy of the scene that he had witnessed made me blush. He looked at me and smiled. "Do you always do that when you're...embarrassed?" "What?" "Blush." Of course, I blushed all the more and stammered, "yes." "I like that; it will be a nice indicator to go by as we...get to know each other. I think I'll enjoy making you blush." I felt irritated by this; he was taking too much for granted. "What makes you think that we'll be getting to know each other that much better? " I bridled as I said this, annoyed. He leaned toward me with that now familiar amusement in his eyes and said, "Tell me that you didn't make yourself cum thinking of me and of what I said to you last Friday." I was too startled to say anything, too startled to do anything but look down, my wretched tendency to blush betraying me yet again. He leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. "I'll bet you didn't wait even an hour..." I was trying to think of something to say when the waitress came to take our orders. I realized that I hadn't chosen anything. He glanced at me for an instant and then gave her both of our orders, unerringly selecting something that I might have chosen for myself. When she walked away, he said, "Do you want to know how I knew what to order for you?" I felt uncomfortably exposed again. "Yes, I do." "I told you that I studied you and your Master throughout the entire meal when I saw the two of you together. He had red meat, you had fish, he drank a full bodied red wine, and you drank a slightly fruity white. He had pecan pie for dessert, you had crème brulee. Even your food and beverage preferences are...feminine and delicate. You looked at him as trustingly as a child when he fed you that first spoonful of crème brulee. You sat up straight in your chair with your knees together and your legs crossed at the ankle. It was...lovely, so seemingly unstudied to the casual observer, but to one who could recognize it, it was obviously the result of years of training. Dance training first, I should think, or yoga perhaps accounts for the posture, but the rest of it, the ...attitude, speaks of the training of a sexual submissive." He finished this appraisal and looked at me to gauge my reaction. I looked down again; he was right, I had had years of dance training, and yoga training as well and of course, he was right about my training as a submissive as well. That particular course of study, although undertaken in private and with only two participants, had made the rigors of the other two look like nothing; even years of corps de ballet had nothing on David's "school of submission." I smiled at the memory in spite of myself, and found myself smiling at him. "That's the first time you've smiled at me," he said, smiling back gently. "You see how well I know you already. " The waitress returned with our wine. We watched each other speculatively while we sipped our wine and ate our meal, speaking very little, only commenting on the food from time to time. When we left the restaurant he turned to me and smiled. "I'll walk you back to the gym now. I'd like to see you again next Friday evening in a more private setting." I looked at him for a long moment and smiled back. "All right." He left me at the entrance of the gym, smiled at me and squeezed my hand, then turned and walked way. I stood watching him go, and realized that I had wanted him to touch me today; compromise me, but he had been a gentleman, and I had to act the part of a lady now. I laughed at myself and shook my head, and went home. I found myself thinking of him incessantly over the course of the weekend, his eyes staring down at me from the ceiling of my bedroom in the night, after I had made myself cum over and over again to the memory of the sound of his voice and the memory of the subtlety of his cologne. David came to the house early on Saturday morning to pick up the children, and for once, I was not agitated for hours after seeing him. I noticed a puzzled look in his eyes; he sensed the difference, or perhaps the indifference in me. By Monday morning, I was appalled at the extent to which I appeared to be becoming obsessed with a stranger. I went to lunch with some of the women from the office, my bemusement increased by the fact that we ended up lunching at the same restaurant where I had gone with my new...friend ...the previous Friday. When we got back to the office, the receptionist stopped me and handed me a long flat gift wrapped box. "This was delivered while you were out," she chirped brightly. My lunch companions looked at each other and then at me, expectantly. Fridays Going out on the weekends can be so tiresome, especially on Fridays. Fridays were usually really long days for me. I would wake up for my job at the student union building. Then, after a full day of classes, I would hit the gym for my last workout of the week. By the time I got done with all of that, I usually just wanted to come home and spend the night with myself. To just shower and relax. And most of the time, that's just what I did. But, every once in a while, I would tell the guys that I would go out with them to Lights, a dance club just south of campus. Strange name for a club, since it was always dark inside. But there were plenty of strobe lights and disco balls, so I guess there is that. But I digress. I guess going to Lights was Their way of winding down after a long week. This story starts on one of those Fridays. As you might expect, I spent most of the day lamenting the looming trip to Lights. At least, until I got there. I have a love-hate relationship going with Lights. With dance clubs in general, really. But every time I actually got inside of one, I couldn't help but to enjoy myself, even if it was only for a little while. I don't like to listen to club music on my own; it rarely has any real substance. But as far as providing a good beat to dance to, it was second to none. And I loved dancing. So was going out tiresome? Of course it was. But I found a way to enjoy it all the same. When we finally took to the dance floor, I was just doing my best to have a good time. I knew that, despite my love of dancing, I would eventually grow tired of the club and want to leave. I guess I was just trying to squeeze as much fun out of that dance floor as quickly as possible. Trying to maximize my time. And I think I did a pretty good job. I was just dancing with any girl that looked like she was interested. Laughing, pulling outrageous moves, belting out the lyrics to the songs that I happened to know. I was having a blast. One girl in particular seemed to take notice. Either that, or I happened to really notice her taking notice of me. She was a pretty attractive girl, at least, as far as I could tell through the darkness of the club and the haze of the drinks I'd had. She was tall, especially for a girl (she was only a few inches shorter than me, and I have above average height for a guy). Her silhouette portrayed a slender build, complete with understated curves, and big, frizzy blonde curls. But her silhouette was good enough. Like I said, I was just looking to have some fun. I didn't mind not having access to the finer details of her appearance. For most of the night, she danced within just a few feet of me and my friends. I kept looking at her, making eye contact and smiling. I think I even winked at her a couple of times. That isn't usually my style, but the alcohol was flowing. They don't call it liquid confidence for nothing. Anyway, she seemed to really be feeding off of my positive energy. Laughing whenever I did, returning my winks. But I guess she eventually got tired of being coy. She danced her way right over to me. And now, we weren't just sharing a dance floor. We were sharing each other's personal space. The atmosphere between quickly transformed from playful to sensual. Without prompting, she had turned around and planted her ass firmly into my lap, grinding it against me. Then, she slipped a hand between us, teasing my cock through my jeans. I took this as a signal to really let things escalate. I explored her body with my hands. Her waist was narrow, her stomach was firm. I brushed her curls aside and buried my face in her neck, taking in her aroma. I detected traces of her perfume -- something floral, maybe lavender -- as well as her more potent, feminine musk. The smell that her body would likely give off only after a long night of dancing. The combination drove me crazy. I wanted her. I wanted her badly. I probably would have taken her right there on the dance floor if she would've let me. Who knows, maybe she would have let me. I never bothered to ask. Dancing is just about the sexiest thing two people can do with each other short of actually having sex. It is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Just you and one other person, writhing against each other to the beat of music that is engineered to make you squirm in your seat until you just can't help but to move. Put two people in such intimate contact for that long, and in an environment like Lights, and soon, they will begin to explore each other's bodies. Urged on by the relentless thump of the bass, and protected by the anonymity an overcrowded dance floor...well, people seem to lose all inhibitions in such circumstances. But, alas, our dancing came to an end, as all good things must. She went off with her friends and left the club, going God knows where. Without my mysterious partner, the club suddenly lost all appeal. I had made one physical connection that night, and that was enough for me. It was time to go. I told my friends that I was tired, and I took my leave. I got home and plopped down on my bed. It had been a long, long day, and I was exhausted. For hours, however, sleep evaded me. Convinced that rest was going to be hard to come by, I got out of bed, turned on some light music and laid in my bed, and reflected on the night that I'd just had. It wasn't very often that I danced with someone the way that I danced with that girl. To be so close, so intimate with someone was a rarity for me. I remembered her silhouette. The way her body felt pressed against mine. The firmness and femininity of her minimal curves. But most of all, I remembered her scent. Every time I thought about it, my sexual fire blazed anew. They say that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. And, after that night, I had a new appreciation for that fact. As my music played, adding ambiance to my fantasizing, I felt my hand drift into my pants. I'd hardly noticed that my cock was fully erect. But it made sense. All of the tension of the night had been built up, but never released. I undid my jeans and pulled out my cock. It was throbbing in rhythm with my heart beat, performing a little dance of its own. I wrapped my hand around it and started to stroke it slowly. I closed my eyes as I thought about her sexy specter. Dancing for me privately, stripping her clothes of piece by piece. I fantasized about her mounting me, rubbing her pussy lips up and down the length of my cock. An agonizing tease, but a welcome one. It meant that sex was on the horizon. My stroking grew more furious. Then, at long last, she sat on my cock and slowly pushed herself down onto it, inch by inch, until the whole thing disappeared. No small feat, to be sure; I'm not ashamed to say that, at just under nine inches, my cock is pretty impressive. But this was my fantasy. She would have taken twenty inches if I wanted her to. And she would have liked it. My cock would have to suffice for now, though. It made it more real for me. She rode me furiously. Her pussy was tight and silky smooth. Then, she sat up straight and bounced up and down, her blonde hair blocking out the light from my ceiling lamp. Even now, in one of my mind's best dreams, I could only make out her slim silhouette. But, even now, the finer details weren't important. Before long, I felt my balls start to contract. I teased the head of my cock, now slick with precum, until a thick rope of cum shot out, followed by a few more. My breaths were as sharp as my body's contractions. My entire body twitched every time I touched the head. With a hefty load now covering my stomach, I finally felt my eyelids being pulled shut by the sleep that my body needed. Powerful orgasms had always been soporific for me; they left me completely satisfied, but completely drained. I was able to stave off sleep long enough to clean myself up. And then, it was off to dreamland. -- The following Thursday, as I did every Thursday. I had the day completely off. Thursdays were my personal retreats. I had no class or work to worry about, so I spent Thursdays doing whatever I wanted. Working out, reading, writing, catching up on TV shows. Anything that allowed me to spend time with my own thoughts. Today, my chosen activity was to venture out to the local bookstore. There are few things in the world I enjoy more than reading, and I always relished the opportunity to get out and spend a good hour or two searching for new books to read. That day, my search brought me to the fantasy section, looking for a new series to start up. I'd found a book that looked promising and was reading the first chapter silently to myself. While I was reading, I felt someone brush by me quickly. I couldn't imagine why someone would be moving with such purpose through a bookstore, but I didn't think much of it. That is, until the person's lingering scent drifted into my nose -- it was the same floral scent that I'd encountered at the club not even a week prior. The very same lavender. My mind was flooded with images of my delicate dance partner. The moments that we shared on the dance floor. The extensive fantasizing that I did about her that night. Could it really be her? Suddenly, in a place that had always given me peace, I found it very difficult to relax. I glanced up slowly, and the image that greeted me arrested all doubt. I saw the big blonde curls. The tall, lithe frame. The same silhouette. And with the same perfume? It had to be her. My breath got shallow, and the aisles of my favorite bookstore suddenly started shrinking and getting hotter. Was I sweating? Was my nervousness tangible to anyone but myself? I certainly hoped not. I didn't normally walk up to random girls and talk to them. It wasn't really my thing. But I knew that I would have kicked myself later if I didn't at least say "hi" to her. I fought with myself for a few more seconds. Then, reluctantly, I started my approach. I got a little closer to her, and managed a sheepish "hi." She looked up from the book that she had picked from the shelf and smiled as she returned my volley. "Hi to you too," she said. Despite our intimacy at the club, I realized that this is the first time I'd actually heard her voice. Even in my fantasies, she had been wordless. A few seconds of silence followed as I searched the recesses of my mind for something to say. Anything at all. The longest few seconds of my life, it felt like. Finally, I noticed the book that she was holding. It was the first novel in a series of nine written by one of my favorite fantasy authors. I made a comment about it. "So you like Tracy Easton's writing as well? She's definitely a favorite of mine." "Yes, I like her a lot actually. Well, I've only read her standalone novels so far, but I'm really excited to read her series. Have you read the whole series?" Her words had entered my ears, but I'd only barely been listening to her. Instead, my train of thought had been hijacked by her full, pink lips; her icy, blue eyes; and her milky, pale skin, dotted with with light brown freckles. The finer details of her appearance were, as I had just discovered, were quite enchanting. Finally realizing that it was my turn to talk, cleared my throat and answered, "Yes. Yes I have. You know, Easton is a master at building expansive worlds. Did you ever get the feeling that, in her standalone work, the worlds she built were actually too big?" She excitedly replied, "Yes! I got the exact same feeling. Especially in "The Search for the Commodore's Raven". I would get to the end of the books and always want there to be more story. But in a good way, you know?" "I know exactly what you mean. Almost like there was so much more that her characters could have done. Well, her epic worlds were a perfect fit for her nine-novel series. It's excellent, I'd definitely recommend it." "Well thanks. I was going back and forth between this book and another one in the next aisle. But I think you've made up my mind." Silence again as she glanced back down at her book. I was so excited that I probably was on the verge of bursting into flame. Then, I did something else that was totally out of character for me. "Say, are you doing anything tomorrow night around 7? I have something I have to go do right now, but I'd love to get together and chat with you again. I've really enjoyed this." Of course, since it was Thursday, I didn't really have any other plans. I was too worked up, but I didn't want this to be our last interaction. "Sure, I'd like that too. What did you have in mind?" "Well, I know a bar around here, Tavern at 10th, that is pretty cool. That sound good to you?" "It surely does." She took a scrap of paper out of her purse and scrawled something on it. "I'm Emma by the way. Here's my number in case you need to get in touch before tomorrow." "Alrighty. Well, I'm Jon, and it was nice to meet you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." "Yep. Oh, and thanks again for the book recommendation." "You're welcome, Emma." I waited until she was safely out of sight before I finally let myself take in a huge breath. I felt on the verge of passing out, but in a good way. I walked away from the bookstore without a new book to read, but I was exuberant. My big, indestructible smile must have made passersby think that I'd just won the lottery or something. As I'm walking home, though, I realize that she doesn't have my number, in case she should have to get in touch with me as well. I put her number into my phone and sent her a short text. *Jon: Hey, this is Jon. And here is my number too, in case you end up needing it.* A few minutes later, I got my reply. *Emma: Thanks! I'm really looking forward to tomorrow =]* Smiley faces are a good thing, right? *Jon: Me too. I'll see you then.* -- The previous Friday, like most of them, was arduous. This Friday was easy by comparison. I was energized, more so than I could ever remembered being. The day before, I'd gone out on a limb and done things I'd never done before in my life. And my reward was a date with Emma, that pale beauty. After my workout, I went home to shower and get dressed. Then, off to the bar I went. I got there about 20 minutes early, hoping to get a beer in before she got there. I selected a potent IPA. It calmed my nerves, but not much. Judging by my body's reaction when I saw her walk in, I may as well have been drinking water. She was stunning. She was wearing a slim, navy blue dress that had skinny shoulder straps and went down to just above her knees. It looked like she wasn't wearing a bra underneath, the points of her nipples were just barely visible through the fabric. She had her curls pulled back into a bushy ponytail. Her pale skin was like a well of stored light in the dimly lit bar. Her icy blues scanned the crowd until, eventually, she found me. She ordered a beer after we greeted each other. We started talking about books, continuing the thread from the previous day. But we ended up talking about lots of different things. Our tastes in music, movies that were coming out soon, even debating about the candidates for the upcoming presidential election. I even found out that she was a pretty advanced practitioner of yoga. I guess that's where she got her fierce physique. And all the while, I was simply awestruck at her beauty. Her eyes were honest, and always betrayed her emotions. But I liked that about her. I liked most everything about her, actually. The way the skin on the bridge of her nose wrinkled whenever she laughed. The way her lips moved as she talked. The sophistication brought on by the deep raspiness of her voice. I felt like a creature in the desert, welcoming the warmth of the sun after a long, cold night. Being around her set my senses ablaze. Where before I had struggled to make conversation with Emma for even a few minutes, I now found it easy to talk with her. I hardly noticed the minutes changing into hours. Talking to strangers in public had always intimidated me. But now that I was getting to know her, really connecting with her, I felt right at home. And it made sense. Even at parties, I often enjoyed them more if I had only one or two long, deep conversations with people, as opposed to "working the room" and connecting with many people only minimally. Hanging out with Emma that night, I was in my element. As the night continued, the bar started to fill with more and more people. It was a Friday, after all. And normally, I wouldn't mind. But my voice is low, and it was being too easily drowned out by the din of the crowd. I found that I was having to repeat myself often. So, I broke the touch barrier, placing a hand on the small of her back as I leaned in to ask her a question. "Hey, this bar is getting a little too loud for my taste. Why don't we go somewhere a little quieter?" She placed an arm around my neck and whispered in my ear, her lips grazing my ear, "I've got a better idea. Why don't we go some place where our words will mean little and less. Some place where we don't have to talk at all." I asked her what she had in mind, but she replied only with a devilish grin. I got the feeling that I knew exactly the place she had in mind. -- Not much longer, we were standing at the bar in Lights, and my suspicions were confirmed. I wondered again if she remembered me, or if I was just one of the many fixtures in the club that night which served only one purpose: to please her. I thought about it for a few more seconds, but I concluded that, at this point, it didn't much matter. As ever, I was just determined to have a good time. She brought me a fruity mixed drink; I don't know what it was called. It was quite tasty though, and strong. I looked up at her to thank her when, in a flash, she had brought a finger up to pin my lips shut. A playful "shh" hissed from between her teeth. No words. I reminded myself. We took to the dance floor, drinks in hand, and just started to have fun. Dancing, laughing, trying not to spill our drinks. Again, we were feeding off of each other's positive energy. I finished my drink first and sat it on a nearby table. I pointed at hers, motioning that she needed to finish hers too. She stood tall and downed the rest of it, a bit of the red liquid spilling from the corner of her mouth. She slammed the glass down on a table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then, with one eyebrow raised, she pulled the elastic band out of her hair and wrapped it around her wrist, unleashing her frizzy curls. Then came a "come hither" motion with one finger. Apparently, the gloves had just come off. As before, we started to dance with each other seductively. I wasn't as drunk as I had been before, but I felt closer to her. Like we'd actually connected. And we had. So, I allowed my exploration of her body to be a bit more liberal. With her back to me, I again felt the definition of her stomach, the subtle roundness of her hips. But now, I went lower, rubbing and squeezing her thighs with both hands. I teased her on the way back up, letting one of my hands lightly graze her pubic mound. I could swear that I felt a small tuft of hair. Was she wearing underwear right now? The prospect of dancing with Commando Emma only made my pulse increase. I continued my upward journey over her body, my hands pausing at her breasts. I squeezed them firmly, pinching her nipples through the fabric of her dress. In response, she brought her hands up to cover mine, joining me in teasing her body, owning her own sexuality. My sentiment about the sexiness of dancing rang truer than ever before. Then, she started to do a little exploring of her own. She performs a familiar maneuver, sliding her hand in between us and teasing my cock, squeezing it firmly. Then suddenly, she froze. I got the feeling that she finally recognized me. And what a way to do so. I guess I'd left a good impression on her after all. Fridays are a Rush Though weekends are the most reliably crowded periods, at times, the rushed aspects of that resulting free time can be frustrating. I was even losing faith that something more than quick endings would occur, to my semi-frustration. Glory holes certainly offer speed in getting off as a main attraction, but taking less time from beginning to cumming than even a couple of minutes is rushed, broadly speaking. Of course, I couldn't resist having enough time to enjoy Rush at the gloryhole as soon as possible, again on a Saturday. Business remains spotty at this local gloryhole, but at least there are some visitors on Saturdays, though at least half stay in the private video cabins. Settling into the now quite familiar space, flicking through the porn, I closed the slider on my side. I began stroking myself, then sounds next door caused a leap in intensity when the other door closed, followed quickly by the slider also being closed, and the clinking of a couple of coins being put in. Just as I was settling down comfortably and ready to show off how hot my cock was, he apparently came. The sounds of cleaning up aren't unfamiliar at this point, as he finished redressing, and left. The shortness was a complete surprise, though it has happened once or twice in the past. Only a short interval after he left, someone else entered, though by this point, my excitement had noticeably subsided. My half-hard cock sensed promise as the slider on his side opened. My cock was full in my fist, due in part to some mildly kinky porn, a bound woman being dominated by another woman. The woman, tied slackly in thickly braided, pure white ropes, looked like a mother of maybe 35, quite sexy, playing the role of unwilling sex partner well, even as you could see how open her pink and glistening pussy was, spread in the air, her arms over her body, her legs in a sling, totally exposed and helpless. The entire experience had already crossed a certain line; watching the show on the screen simply added to the feeling. This time, I wanted a man to suck me as I used Rush, wanting to experience the uncaring gay sex of decades ago, just sticking my cock wherever felt best, no concerns outside of the sheer pleasure of it. I opened the slider a bit, and saw little beyond a sitting figure in dimness. Opening the slider more, my excitement grew, in part because I really couldn't see his crotch, except as a mysterious darkness. I was certain he had a good view of my side, legs spread and shirt open, my cock again hard in my closed hand. His fingers came through the opening, making my breath quicken audibly while pumping my cock more provocatively, working myself into a state beyond restraint. After offering and withdrawing his fingers several times, my shaft was rigid, and my fingers were at the bottom of my cockhead. I tried looking again, and still saw only darkness from the booth, as no movie was playing on his side. I leaned back, already determined to be coy, when sucking sounds started coming from the other side, an unmistakably direct invitation which was new to my ears. And very tempting, since there was no doubt what would happen. This was making me really hard, leading to my showing off the stroking motion along my shaft, my panting in rhythm getting more obvious. In a way, I was playing a role - that of a man about to stick his cock through the divider into glory, after getting turned on enough that stopping would be impossible. The parallels to the porn were certainly hard to miss, even if my bonds were of an immaterial sort. I rose, took my hand from my cock, and twisted open the bottle. Breathing in, I moved my cock through the hole, his fingers curling as the desired feeling started to grow through my body - a swelling of pleasure, with the promise of more as my cock slid through his lips. Now, I wanted a man to suck my cock, and it was so good. I needed my cock deep in a man's sexy mouth, male lips circled around my shaft, his tongue swirling wetness around my swelling cock head, a need not only beyond resisting, but one being satisfied so well by an unseen stranger. This had been one of my earliest gay sex fantasies. And the first touch of his warm lips on my sensitive cockhead just reinforced how good what I was doing truly was. This was pure gay sex, unconditionally - I wanted a man to suck my rigid cock as I finally experienced what had only been imagined years ago. My universe filled with pleasure centered directly at my sucked cock, one going deeper into glory as I sank into his willing mouth, wanting nothing else but for him to keep going, completely lost. Rush turns me into a complete slut for cocksucking, a perfect compliment to what the man sucking my cock had earned. I had enjoyed trying to cock tease him before, even if I couldn't see his cock, and now, I was helplessly enjoying what seemed to be his idea of payback. Rush swells the feeling of cock to immense and massive dimensions, ones perfectly surrounded by a mouth which keeps sucking that immenseness into timeless warm wetness. As I pumped, the pressure kept building, while he kept me firmly enclosed in his mouth. I pulled back a bit, and his mouth moved down my shaft, though I could still feel his panting breath on my length. The pause was necessary, simply because I couldn't imagine cumming so quickly. Panting, the wave started to recede, though the pleasure remained almost overwhelming. This led me to pull back farther, not wanting to cum yet, then slowly putting myself back through the beckoning opening, all plans forgotten, eyes closed, arms spread against the wall. He quickly resumed practicing his fantastic talents on my hot shaft, and as my thoughts drifted to how to deal with opening the bottle again, the feeling in my balls grew more demanding, as my moaning picked up. I was almost fully enthralled, but remained greedily determined to repeat the experience of having a man suck my cock after having filled my lungs deeply with jungle juice, the smell of locker room, a decadent pleasure from decades ago. I reluctantly pulled back completely to my side, remaining balanced on the edge of pumping hot cum, the same state I had been in for the last couple of minutes. Then his slider closed, followed by the sounds of cleaning up. It had been fairly brief, but he had obviously had his fill, even if I hadn't filled in his mouth in that short interval. I watched the porn play to the end, the first pair of women being replaced by another, still sexy and obviously turned on by their games. Good as the porn was, it wasn't quite the same as another person on the other side. But Fridays seem distinct from Saturday, as perhaps, time seems more available to the visitors. The contrast between the previous Saturday visit and the current Friday experience was wide, even if the rushing desire remained the same. Last Friday, around 11:30am, I entered the booth, not even taking off my coat or otherwise making preparations. I sat, and put a coin in. Before entering, I had looked at the selections, and noticed that the one which had made me hard last week was still available. As the counter slowly ran down, I went through the choices, until coming to the bottom of the keypad, which was the porn from last week. It was just at the start of one woman tying/dominating another, both clearly playacting, and both women enjoying their roles. It was actually earlier in the story, making the slow undressing/stroking even more enticing, knowing how it would go, with a naked panting mother getting her pussy fingered and licked, after long teasing. Well, maybe I knew what would occur with two sexy women in the video, but when someone came in, with the door to the other booth closing, the script was no longer in charge of events. I decided to use the time after the door closed to get ready - coat off and placed on the padded bench seat, Rush out, coins stacked, tissues/condoms at ready, then unbuttoning my pants and shirt, unzippering last to free my bush and cock, touching it, certainly more than half ready, as I pulled my pants down a bit. Turning and sitting down, I saw the dominated woman topless, her grey skirt no real protection, moaning gently as the other woman's hand went inside that skirt, sliding against the outside of her cunt as the skirt was lifted. This time, I was only minimally coy moving the slider. A small gap showed an erect cock already being stroked to full readiness, and as my own pumping increased, I slid the panel half open, then fully, in pace with my own still lengthening shaft. We had both grown thoroughly turned on in just that short time, and as my fingers went through, it took just a bit until he turned and stuck his hard cock through. Holding my stiff cock in my right hand, my left went to his cock, and I explored it, looking down on another strange man's horny and hot cock. He was clearly uncircumcised, but his cockhead was quite clear of his foreskin. My left hand grasped his shaft, the edge of my palm against his cockhead, my thumb moving along the side of his cock, which was beginning to develop the silky velvetness which feels so good. My hand started to move with more certainty, fingers starting to tighten as I began a tugging motion, clearly signalling that he should let himself go deeper into glory. Slowly, but unstoppably, his cock came closer. So close and so turned on, I knew that this time, I would be able to play one of my favorite games, one only recently discovered after decades of sexual enjoyment, unknown to me until first actually enjoying one of the best sensations a glory hole offers. I quickly stood, reached for the bottle with my right hand, the left hand never leaving his hot length. Opening the Rush wasn't simple, but in the past, learning how to twist the top carefully using my teeth had been an enjoyable skill to acquire. Standing, my bent left leg braced against the bench seat, I took a long and deep breath, then closed the top and placed the bottle on the selector pad. Not being the first time, the motions were fairly quick and smooth, being finished as the first sensations of total lust started to spread through my existence. My left hand still on his cock, I shifted to move closer, then pressed my cock against his, my right hand at the base of my shaft, thumb and first finger circled, the other three fingers cupping down along my hairy balls. I couldn't stop looking while holding my breath in, my cut and his uncut cocks against each other. My left hand began to slide down to his balls also, my cockhead now against his, sinking in the sensation of hot sexual contact with a man. The slutty satisfaction was incredible, and slowly, one of the other effects of Rush began to draw attention to itself as my fingers reached beneath my balls, start to feel the skin, my ass starting to fall into a familiar pulsing feeling. Time was slowing down, and when I finally exhaled, the moaning tumbled quickly from my mouth behind my expelled breath, beginning to pump my cock against his. My right hand moved as I shifted a bit, creating an angle where our cocks were now fully shaft to shaft. A warmly sliding wetness was spreading, engulfing our cocks together. I looked down again, both of our cocks so sexy to watch as the feelings of timeless ecstasy kept growing. 'Man .. oh man .. fuck .. yeah ... cock .. fucker' was just part of the stream of now flowing words, uncaring about anyone hearing, except for the man who was making me feel so good. However, as always, the tide began to slowly ebb, even as the pleasure remained impossible to resist. Being cock to cock with a man is a simple luxury, one that I can't stop desiring. But when his cock moved back, it was an unavoidable signal that now would be a good time to put my own turned on rod through, to whatever awaited on his side. I took another hit of Rush, then let my erect and quivering cock slide through. There was a quick pause in my thinking, as without touch I kept focussing on holding my breath, even as the jutting need to be pleasured rose, waiting as long as possible before exhaling. His first touch was wet, just around the point when exhaling was impossible to prevent. The lure of pure gay sex was overwhelming, and I desperately wanted whatever he would do to me, desire filling me utterly as the seductive rush pulled me in, uncaring. Especially the rush of sexy wetness spreading over my cockhead. This time, I had already decided, there would be no holding back when riding this wave The motion in the wetness became engrossing, whether mouth or hand was impossible to know, beyond caring in any but the most abstract sense as my body started moving deeper. I kept moving until the wall stopped me, my moaning starting again, all thoughts of discretion or restraint abandoned in the pleasure. And surprisingly, the porn became entwined in my bliss, as the tied woman with the spread and wet pussy began to say 'no, no' as the other woman, still in white bra, panties, garter and stockings, fingered her. With each repeated 'no,' I moaned 'yes .. oh .. yeesss,' my cock helpless in his touch. The porn was filling my mind with sexy thoughts, knowing that like the tied woman, someone of the same sex was making me helpless, taking advantage of my own open desires. This time, the first wave was the one that rushed down, as I started to moan and buck, beyond any concern but cumming so good. Especially considering how the last two times, this had been the only time to cum. The orgasm started in my depths, waves of cum pumping from my rigid cock, the liquid feeling drowning me in bliss, having found yet another gorgeous man to cum with, one who knew how good it was to get me off so completely. I slowly pulled back as my cock softened, thinking in practical part of cleaning up, and in turned on part of inviting his cock to my side again. While slowly withdrawing, it was impossible to ignore how his hand followed, as he kept manipulating me with still intensely enjoyable motions. Normally after cumming, my cock is just a touch too sensitive to enjoy continued games, but he seemed to know right where the edge was, rarely crossing it. His hand kept demanding contact, and I weakened as it stayed on me. The pleasure thickened as he kept touching me, and after a couple of moments, I looked down. His hand was wrapped around my 3/4 hard cock, sliding in a wetness that did not quite feel like cum, though clearly, cum must be a part of it. The irresistible sensations continued even as my cock shrank. His touch was utterly captivating, and several times, after lazily deciding to finally clean myself, he kept me in his hand, preventing me from moving further away due to the pure satisfaction he was creating, much less breaking all contact with his hand. I was riding a see-saw, with all the weight on the other side. My increasingly feeble efforts to separate us were being completely overwhelmed by the feeling of my cock in his demanding hand. By now, it was obvious in my still horny state that he wanted to keep playing with my cock, and that there was really no effective way I could stop him, since I couldn't even stop myself from wanting him to keep playing with my cock. Actually, I was a bit surprised by how the game was developing, because each time I began to move back, the pleasure subtly stopped me as it diminished. Then reversing, making his touching easier to enjoy, wanting nothing else as I stood there, my pants stretched tight mid thigh, legs spread. I was occasionally moaning either 'noooo .. noooo' or 'yeessss .. yeessss' depending on whether the motion was backwards or forwards. Forwards always being cause of the ever louder 'yes - yes' sounds, naturally. In a fairly deep way, I understood what he wanted, to simply play with another unknown man's cock. I had had the same feeling the couple of times I had sucked a stranger's wrapped cock, the desire to keep it in my mouth forever, to keep my mouth filled with another man's being. And understanding this, I decided to keep playing, without worrying about cleaning up at all. Still lazy as he kept me completely in hand, I reached again for the Rush, after putting some more coins in the slot. Incredible sensations started again as my lungs filled and then emptied, expanding into something new - my cock being fondled by a talented stranger, neither soft nor hard, after having already cum. I was completely under his control, and my moaning and motions were more explicit than before, as those explicit needs were met by the one who knowingly created them. I had slumped against the wall, lost in the total concentration caused by my cock being played with by a man. I pushed back, and looked down, my mind filled again with unstoppable lust. And saw his hand enclosing me, thick fingers and a thick wrist, moving in desperately wanting patterns over my captivated cock. The view was hotter than any porn, until I slumped again, unable to remain upright. A smell of cologne, purely male, was in the air, adding a different element to what he was doing to me, a scent was directly connected to a stranger completely unable to leave my cock alone. Just like I could no longer leave his hand alone. I shifted against the wall, then moved my right hand down to feel his pumping action. As my hand squeezed, his moved down to the root of my shaft, fingers cushioned on curly pubic hair, tightening their grip as I touched my cockhead. A number of men just love cock - and having sucked a couple of men off, I thoroughly understand the power of cock worship. It is also what makes me helpless when a cock comes through glory to my side of the wall, demanding attention. My legs spread a bit wider, one on the ground, the other kneeing on the bench. By now, my cock and his hand were in motion, causing the hanging ring of my belt to start swaying, in time with my knee and hips moving against his hand, until stopped by slumping helplessly against the wall, the only thing solid in the total ecstasy his touch was creating. Different rhythms and sensations arose, still occasionally on the seesaw edge of freeing myself from his touch, when the feeling verved into one too-ticklish or boring. He always recovered and found another irresistible pattern. Not only I was helpless against it, thankful he had again overruled my will through his pumping and squeezing hand, but now, it seemed certain he would not stop until he felt my hard cock cumming again. And I was quite hard again, something that rarely happens with Rush after the first orgasm. He knew my inability to leave his grip, and my cumming was obviously part of his plan. I opened the bottle for the last time, breathing in again, completely unconcerned about anything but the pleasure a man was giving me, After taking a long hit, thoughts of sucking him swirled, just having him stick his hard cock into my waiting and willing mouth. I wanted cock, the same as the man that had mine in his glorious grip. Cock is fantastically sexy, and sucking one, tasting cum for the first time, appealed immensely as I exhaled, making my own cock swell. I was lost in thoughts of sex with men, wantonly fucking and sucking any man in reach. But his hand obliterated even my fantasies, the sensations of the present causing me to start moaning again about what was happening, 'man ... fuck good ... man ... fuck yeah ... man cock ...' I heard a sound of tapping metal, and realized it was my belt buckle. I also realized he was using the sound to gauge the effect of his stroking on my now wonderfully thrusting cock. The sound of my body moving, the pull of my lowered pants against my spread legs, looking at his strong large hand still questing, I reached another orgasm, overwhelmed by his cock loving attention. Though private in the booth, this felt by far my most public sex at this gloryhole. And like the tied and hot woman on the screen, I couldn't help myself from wanting it. And not caring who knew. Fridays are a Rush The ebbing of my orgasm was comfortably slow, and even after swaying back, his hand and arm had followed, the arm filling the opening. I looked again at just the part of his body I could see, the rest, except his cock and balls, completely unknown to me. I started to feel a somewhat nostalgic soreness, of my cock having been pleasured at the edge of its tolerance. And started thinking about the next idea to explore, such as doing a hit of Rush, and then sucking a hard cock. Definitely with a condom, though Rush certainly makes me ignore much - which is part of its attraction, to be honest.