17 comments/ 23334 views/ 27 favorites Spun By: GirlintheMoon A repost, with some minor editing. Hope you enjoy. + He lives down the hall from me. His hair is shaggy and blonde, sometimes hanging messily over his blue eyes. A scar splits his right eyebrow in half. Tattered jeans and block colored t-shirts appear to be the only clothing he owns. He moved in a month ago and through gossip I've learned he's an amiable guy, working as a teacher. Mainly he keeps to himself. Something about him disturbs me-- the way he walks, how his calculating blue eyes take in everything around him in one rapid swoop, the weird hours he keeps- but my landlady says he's a Good Guy. I catch him one day, helping her climb the stairs. He doesn't speak to her but he gives her a smile before he walks away. I wouldn't know what a Good Guy looks like, but I'll take her word for it. + Everything goes in slow motion-- cars passing in the street, mosquitoes buzzing in my ear at night, summer rain tinkling down whenever it gets too hot. Nothing much is happening, but that's how I prefer my summers. I sit outside with the kids that live in my building on dry nights, teasing them and playing games. It's the most fun I have some days. On this particular night, I'm smiling while a few girls play jump-rope and pretending not to notice the new guy as he ambles up the sidewalk. The sun just went down but the heat is still hazy and cloying. Little droplets of sweat decorate my forehead, and just as I wipe them away, my eyes catch his. He's walking up the sidewalk, weaving through blankets of fireflies. The first time he smiles at me, it's electric. Every vein sizzles with hot blood, every cell vibrates, and every breath shimmies out unsteadily. It's not even that he's good-looking, because I'm not so sure he is, but there's something about him. One of the kids runs over with a ball in his hands. "Come play with us." The man laughs. "It's a little hot for that, don't you think?" But he takes the ball and tosses it around. I watch them play for a while, feeling strangely panicked. He hasn't really looked at me, and he certainly hasn't spoken to me, but I sense something revolutionary is about to happen. I don't really think I can deal with that. I'm not ready, and I'm not so sure I'll ever be. He throws the ball to another child after a while and stands back, letting the kids enjoy their game. The girls giggle when the boys' game gets too close. My whole body thrums with energy when he lowers himself down on the stoop next to me. "They're great kids," he says. "Yeah. Yeah, they are." "I see you out here with them a lot. That's really nice of you." "I don't mind." We're quiet for a few minutes. It makes me a little depressed that I can't think of anything to say to him. "You're a hairdresser, right?" The question startles me and I look at him, face to face. He seems different close up. His nose has been broken countless times, I can tell, and his lips are almost too big for his face. His eyes are a disconcerting blue- not a crystal blue, but a dark, moody sapphire. "There are a lot of very talkative ladies in this building. They say you're really good." His smile widens. "I could use a haircut." "I work downtown." I take a deep breath and wonder if I should tell him the rest. A little bit of a breeze rustles through, catching his scent on a wave of air. I've never felt this way... So off balance by someone, and somehow addicted to the feeling. "Sometimes I do cuts in my apartment, though." "Hmm. I might have to make an appointment, then." + I don't see much of him the next few weeks. We smile when we pass one another in the hall, or on the street, and occasionally he says hello. I don't dare. It's an Indian summer, but a crispness is invading the air, making me at once happy yet aching. I always feel a bit lost in the fall. September has set in, the leaves are beginning to fade, and the kids are back at school. He doesn't hang around so much anymore, busy with teaching. It dawned on me after we said our goodbyes that night I don't even know his name. I could ask around, but that feels too sad and clingy. It would undoubtedly get back to him, anyway. Then one rare Saturday I don't have to go into work, I hear a light knock at the door. He is on the other side, standing casually when I open it. A small smile curves his lips. "Are you busy?" My heart thuds. "Umm, not really." "I was wondering if you could give me a hair cut." He runs a hand through his hair, shuffling around the choppy layers, and gives me a big smile. "I'm becoming a bit too alternative for school." I smile nervously and gesture him inside. He sits quietly while I gather everything I need, taking longer than usual because his presence knocks me off kilter. "I don't want anything too drastic," he tells me. "Just something to make me look professional." Normally I'd be amused at the hint of anxiety in his voice; he's concerned I might take too much off, I can tell. Being in the business this long has helped me decode "I want just a little off" as: "Please keep my hair completely the same." He doesn't chatter while I mess around, and I'm grateful for that. Clients who talk my ear off make me go nuts sometimes. It's peaceful this way and I find myself relaxing. My shoulders drop, my stomach calms and the whole thing almost feels pleasant. I don't take too much off the length of his hair. Then I'm finished. He runs his fingers through it. He takes a peek in the mirror I present him and grins at his reflection. "Wow, I like it. It's still me." His eyes glide to my stare. "Thanks. You're really good at this." I'm probably blushing but I don't care. "Thank you." He puts some bills down on my table- more than I deserve- and stretches. His eyes assess me. The sensation of his cataloguing gaze both thrills and terrifies me. "Wanna go for a walk with me?" I blink at the question. I most certainly wasn't expecting that. Before I can think too hard about it, I hear myself consenting. "Sure." "My name is Graham, by the way," he says once we're in the late Autumn sun. "I forgot to introduce myself. And you're Virginia, right?" "Right." I'm surprised he knows my name. Maybe the fascination isn't one-sided. "People call me Ginny sometimes." His smile is soft. "Good to know." We drift down the sidewalk, crunching leaves below our feet. We don't need to talk and I like that. It's a little uncomfortable, but mostly it's exciting. He tells me about school after a little bit. He loves being a teacher, but he doesn't even have to say the words. I can see how his eyes light up, how he uses his hands, how he laughs when he tells stories about his students. Then he says how hard it's been for him, moving out here to the city, away from everything he knew before. "I like the city. But it's so lonely, sometimes, don't you think?" The way his eyes scan my face tells me he already knows my answer. "Of course." I try not to sound too depressed. "My sister keeps trying to move by her. Some days I'm almost tempted." He tells me a bit more about her- how they're really close, how he considers her his best friend. "You're quiet," he says after a while. "Am I talking too much?" I stare at the scar on his eyebrow. "Not at all. I like it." Shockingly, I do like it. I like the tone of his voice, the way he smiles, how I can picture everyone and everything he talks about just by the descriptive words he uses. "I'm from a very quiet family. It's nice to be around someone who doesn't mind talking." Graham throws his head back and laughs. "Is that a polite way of saying I don't shut the fuck up?" A small cautious laugh bubbles out of my chest. "Not at all! I really am enjoying your stories. I'm an only child so I never got to experience any of that. The closest I have is a cousin who I pretty much grew up with, but we're not so close anymore." His amusement dies down and his eyes are doing that probing thing. "I'm not so close with the rest of my siblings anymore. I'm one of seven... We all grew up and scattered across the world. We all have our own lives. One brother is actually in Africa right now." "You must miss them." He kicks a broken bottle out of our way. "Of course, but I was the youngest. I was kind of used to them not being around anymore. There's just my sister, Kate... and even then, she has her own life now." We pass by a pretzel cart and he stops, his eyes glowing. There's boyish delight in his expression and I feel myself grinning. "Want one? I haven't tried one yet. I feel like a fraud." I look from the cart back to him. "I've never had one, either." His eyebrow goes up and he snorts in disbelief. "How is that possible? You're a New Yorker." "I'm suspicious of street food." His smile turns puzzling as he approaches the vendor. His eyes are still on me when he says, "Two pretzels, please." The man hands one over and Graham presents it to me. "To trying something new," he toasts with a large smile before taking a huge bite out of his own. "So tell me about you," he says a little while later. "Do you have any siblings?" "Nope." "You close with your parents?" The sky is a little darker, preparing to drizzle any minute. Thankfully we're headed back to our building. "Not really. My relationship with my mom is complicated." "Hmm." His expression reeks of pity. I can't have that. "No, I mean... She loves me. A lot. Too much, actually." "You can love a person too much?" His smile makes me warm. It isn't a comfortable warmth, but it isn't unbearable, either. "Of course. Absolutely. It can be smothering." "You could be unloved," he points out. I don't want to tell him I've been there, too. It's sad. I don't want to be sad today. Something about him cheers me up; I don't want to waste this high. So I just nod and change the subject and hold onto the good feeling like it's the only thing tethering me to this earth. + A week later someone knocks on my door. I'm simultaneously hoping and dreading that it will be Graham. I've thought of little else besides our little walk and it's driving me crazy. I don't have good luck with men. Actually, that's an understatement. I've been with addicts, losers, abusers and suffocating romantics. I don't trust anyone anymore, least of all myself. But when I peek through my peephole and see Graham standing there, I can't help myself: I smile and blush. Drunken butterflies tumble through my stomach. I feel like I'm sixteen again, riding the back of Tom Daly's motorcycle. Except Graham isn't Tom- all pimples and hands where I don't want them. He's smiling softly on the other side of my door, waiting for me to open up. So I do. "Hey, Virginia. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I would have called first but I don't have your number." "That's okay. Come in." He steps in but doesn't come in too far. "What are you doing for dinner tonight?" My palms sweat and my heart pumps erratically. "I was just going to heat up some Chinese from yesterday." "Unacceptable. A new Italian restaurant opened up five blocks from here. My buddy at work told me I have to try it." He runs a hand through his hair which already looks shaggy, in spite of the haircut I gave him. His blue eyes glitter when he gives me a puppy dog look. "Please don't make me go alone." I want to go with him desperately. I want to be a normal girl who doesn't have to weigh all the ramifications of saying yes. Unfortunately the scars all across my body, and the scars that burn in my memory, remind me I'm not. "I don't know... I have a few things I have to-" "Come on. If it sucks, I won't have anyone to complain with!" His smile is contagious, damn it. My lips tug up reluctantly. "Come with me. You won't regret it, Virginia." + A few wines later, I'm relaxed. I know this because my tongue feels swollen and my body feels creamy and warm. I'm also talking- too much. "So your dad is married to a girl two years younger than you?" Graham looks like he's trying to decide if that's funny or sad. "Yeah. It gets worse, though. She was my college roommate." Graham whistles. "That's rough. What about your mom?" I wave my hand and swirl my red wine around. "She's a warrior. Nothing fazes her." He looks like he wants to say something but offers one of his smiles, instead. "Are you guys close?" "Nah. She doesn't really know how to deal with being a mother. Don't know if she knew how to deal with being a wife, either." I sip my wine and narrow my eyes at him. "You're making me talk too much." He puts his hands up innocently and smirks. "Hey, it's only fair. I think the only thing I haven't told you yet is the time I paid Joey Crown to moon the whole class in the fourth grade and he got suspended for two weeks. I've felt guilty about that ever since." Giddy, drunken laughter erupts from me. I smack Graham's shoulder, loving this feeling. His own tipsy laughter rings out, drowning mine. He pays the check, ignoring my protests, and grabs my arm to help me up. "You know," I tell him, dropping my head back to get a good look at him while we're this close, "you're not that bad looking." He tries not to laugh. "Thanks, Gin. I appreciate that." "No, really." My brain and tongue aren't working properly. Everything feels soggy. "I mean... You are handsome. Kind of. When you want to be." "Okay, I think we should take a break from the compliments," he laughs. "Graham." It's the first time I've said his name and we both know it. "You really are. Because you're not. You know? You're really beautiful. You don't have to be nice to me, but you are. You don't have to play with that obnoxious kid in apartment 2-H, but you do because you know he doesn't have any friends." His smile is all weird. Like he's forcing it, like he's really uncomfortable. Oh, God, I'm fucking this up! "I mean that all your features are kind of mismatched but together they're so good. Do you know what I mean?" Graham takes a deep breath and smiles on the exhale. "Yeah. Thank you. You're not so bad, yourself." We start walking outside but my drunken self feels like she hasn't made her point- and worse, that she's insulted Graham. So Drunk Ginny decides to point out her own flaws. "I have the biggest mole on my back. It's really gross, actually. When I was fifteen I seriously considered getting it removed." Graham's bellowing cackle is loud and echoing through the street. "Oh yeah? That's kind of hot." He squeezes my arm. "You know, I'm impressed how clear you're able to speak when you're trashed." "I'm not trashed." My heel decides to trap itself in a crack at that moment. "Just tired." He crouches down to patiently maneuver my shoe out of trouble. He breathes out a hot laugh against my leg and I shiver. "You're a funny girl, Virginia. A wasted girl, but a funny one, nonetheless." We're having a moment. There's nothing but the way his dark blue eyes look in the gauzy light, the sensation of his fingertips on my bare ankle and the irregular thump of my heartbeat. Slowly he stands, keeping eye contact. I'm sure he's going to kiss me, and maybe it's the wine or the fun I'm having, but I'm not completely panicking at the prospect. Then he shocks the hell out of me; he steps back. "We should get back. It's late." The way I'm feeling now is kind of hard to explain. You know how when you're just drifting off to sleep, into a really fabulous dream, and your whole body jerks awake? It feels like that, only worse because now we have to walk home coated in the awkwardness of our almost kiss. He won't even look at me. He tries making small talk on the short walk back, but neither of us are paying attention. Our lit up apartment building is a lighthouse. I can't wait to run up to my apartment, sink into a hot bath,and try to forget all about the stupid, crushing disappointment. I never should have allowed myself to hope, to depend on another person for companionship. I have my foot raised to take the first step up to our door when his hand on my elbow stops me. "Wait. Ginny, wait." Like a fool, I do. I can already hear the speech he's about to make. Maybe he has someone home. Maybe he can't forget, like me. Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it. I can't make another false start in my life. I won't. He isn't talking. Impatiently I turn my head, about to spew out everything I'm thinking for once, when his hot lips meet mine. It's a shock and I try to pull back, but he doesn't stop. He tugs me closer to his body, running his hands up my back. One cups the back of my neck; the other drags over the side of my face. His tongue flirts across my bottom lip. It's subtle but I can sense the question here- "Is this okay?" It is. My mouth sighs and he's inside, giving and taking. The kiss turns rough and altogether undefinable. He bites and soothes and groans. His hands never stray; he doesn't touch anywhere inappropriate. Still, the hunger he feels is evident in every tongue stroke, in every deep sound from his throat. I forget I'm me, I forget about my past, I forget that I vowed I'd never be a "funny girl" to anyone ever again. I forget that I could get hurt, that this isn't what I want, that I'm terrified of him. I just forget. + But the next morning I remember. I glance at my reflection when I wash my hands and see my swollen lips and everything I tried to suppress comes back like a rubber band. And it stings. I'm the woman who had to move to a huge city because she desperately wanted to be swallowed up. I'm the girl who ran away from her boyfriend who thought it was fun to use her as his stress relief. I'm the idiot who bailed exes out of jail, who ignored the depletion of her bank account, who always turned into a fool for love. I can't do it again. I won't. There's a knock at my door and now I just feel dread. I know who it is and I just want him to go away. He likes me- the pieces I've let him see- and I like the pieces of himself he's shown to me, too. Now I'm going to hurt him. But it's for the best, really, because soon we'll have to show all of ourselves to each other and it might be too late. He comes again that night and calls my name softly from the other side of the door. He leaves a note under it. "Ginny, My friend suggested an Indian place on the other side of town. Be my date tomorrow night? Also, here's my cell number. Can't believe I keep forgetting to ask for yours. -Graham." I throw it out. The next afternoon, he comes home from work at the same I am. His grin is huge and happy to see me. He's making it so much harder. "Hi," he says. He's breathless from jogging up to me. "You never called." "Sorry... I only saw your note this morning." He swallows and I watch his Adam's apple bob. "That's okay. So what do you think- are we going Indian tonight?" There are so many things I could say. I know that I want to say yes, but it just won't work. It won't stay this way forever. Graham might not be anything like the string of skeletons in my closet, but it's enough that I have them. "I'm sorry," I hear myself saying. The words are flat and dry. "I can't.' "We can go tomorrow." Graham shrugs and ruffles his hair. "No big." "I mean I can't go out with you." His expression morphs into one of confusion. "What do you mean?" "I'm not looking for a boyfriend." He shifts his messenger bag to his other shoulder. "Virginia, I just want to get to know you. Just be your friend." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "And I'm sorry about the kiss. It was too soon." "This isn't about the kiss. I just-" "We'll be friends." His smile is wide and warm. "Let's be friends. Please." I huff impatiently. "Graham, I-" Spun "Please," he repeats. His smile fades and his eyes grow more serious. I look over his features, wondering how I ever thought him anything less than beautiful. "I could really use a friend right now and I think you could, too." A part of me bristles me at that comment, but another, larger, needier part fucking blooms when he says that. Before I know what I'm doing, I hear myself whisper "okay." His hot lips kiss my cool cheek. It's dry and short, but it excites me. I feel like I could live through eternity if only I could get a kiss on my cheek every now and then from Graham. And that's when I realize I'm truly pathetic. + November brings with it an unexpectedly large snowstorm. I play sad music and look at the snowflakes that listlessly drop down in lazy heaps. The weeks since Graham and I established our friendship have passed slowly- and sometimes painfully. It's strange how I can both crave and dread his company. Nearly every night he shows up at the door of my apartment, either holding take-out or offering to take me out to a new restaurant. It's confusing to me because of how I feel; I don't want, or need, more than a friend, but I desire more from him. I don't want a hug goodnight, or a kiss on my forehead, or a harmless squeeze on my wrist. I'm not entirely sure what I want but it's more. It's definitely more. And that scares the fuck out of me. More can't possibly be good for me. Even if it was, I'd never know how to ask for it. I couldn't. I can't. So I don't. Tonight I'm supposed to be going to this really great new restaurant with him but I have a headache brought on my confusion and my own induced angst. I try to fight against this, but I don't know what else to do. So I call my mom. "Ginny?" That's how she always answers her phone and it makes me feel guilty. It's the response of a mother who knows her child is constantly in trouble, perpetually sad and in need of a pick-me-up. There's always worry in that one utterance of my name, with a tinge of hope. Like maybe I'm calling to say I'm all better finally. The fear wins out every time, though, because she's never had a reason to hope for me. "Hi, Mom." "How are you? You haven't called in a few weeks." She's not trying to sound accusatory, but I hear blame in her words anyway. Sometimes it's easier to be angry with someone than to love them. "I've been really busy, Mom," I sigh. "I'm just calling to ask you something." "Anything," she breathes. "There's this boy that lives in my building..." For the next twenty minutes Mom gives me excited directions, sounding every bit like a sixteen year old girl. I appreciate it, and I tell her so just before Graham is due to pick me up. "Oh, Honey... I'm just so happy that this is what you wanted to ask me. It's time. It's definitely time for you and... I'm so happy." When Graham comes to get me for dinner out at a new Japanese place, I'm still smiling. He picks up on my mood immediately. His answering grin curls my toes. "Wow, if I knew you had such a thing for sushi I would have brought it up forever ago." Dinner is fabulous. It might be the best I've eaten in a long time. I know I'm laughing more than usual tonight because Graham is watching me far too closely, drinking in each of my grins with an unnatural amount of satisfaction and affection. I love it, and I'm not about to tell him off for it. When we're standing on the steps to our apartment building, I move to kiss him. He welcomes it, running his hands up my back. He pushes me against the door, ignoring the catcall of one of our neighbors smoking a couple of feet down the block. "Graham." My gasp of his name makes him shudder. "Maybe we should go inside." He all but drags me into the building and up the stairs to his apartment. "Sorry about the mess," he breathes. I think he meant to laugh. His lock is undone and the door creaks open but I don't have a second to acclimate--Graham is on me, pushing me into his wall. "You taste so good." His voice is low and gritty and doing strange things to my body. "I love it." One of his hands travels down my body, catching on my breast before tugging down, down, down. It lingers on my hip, pressing into the bone. I know he's waiting for me, per usual. Waiting for me to beg, to give my permission, to kiss him. I don't know. I just know he wants something. My hips involuntarily shift up, brushing against his hard-on. He moans into my lips and clutches my ass. "God. You're so good." Those words make me freeze. I've heard them before, helpless in the dark beneath a man whose breath stunk of stale beer. He thrusts against me, but I don't want this. Not anymore. "Stop." And just like I know he will, he moves away. "I'm sorry," he pants. "Too fast?" All the advice my mom gives me, all the prep talks I've prepared, vanish the moment my fear grabs a hold of me. I can hardly look at him. It's not his fault. It's not even him. But it is too fast. Too much. I heave in oxygen, but it's no matter; I can't breathe. I don't want to feel again. I don't want to need him, ignoring a voice inside of me that says I already do. "I should go home," I hear myself whisper. Graham straightens out my dress and I love him for it, but not enough to get over my own shit. "Ginny, I-" "I'm not looking to just fuck someone, Graham. I'm not that hard up for company." As I said earlier, sometimes it's easier to be angry. He backs away from me, wounded. "You know that's not what I want from you." "Isn't it?" "No!" He paces away from me. "God. I would hope you'd know by now what I want from you." I stomp my foot like a child. "I have no idea. A fuck buddy? It's convenient, too, because I'm in the same building!" He moves closer to me, looking down at me blankly. "Wow. I didn't know you thought of me like this." I step away from him without looking into his eyes, because then I know I'll be a goner, and frantically tear open his door. I hear my footsteps echo in the hallway and desperately long for his door to slam shut- and pray he'll come for me. But he doesn't. He doesn't come to get me, because he probably doesn't understand (not that I can blame him), and he doesn't slam his door, either. I can feel his eyes watch me as I make my way down the hall, wishing with every step I could be the kind of woman to turn back around. I't's cold in my apartment. Far too cold. I yank out an old blanket, wrap it around me and turn on crappy late night TV. It's nearly 3AM when it dawns on me everything I did tonight was pointless and I burst into tears. Without realizing it, I've become that girl again--the girl who wants, who needs, who loves. The girl who has always gotten me into trouble. + The next night I'm eager for destruction. I put on a short dress, one I'd hidden in the back of my closet, and I smear lip gloss over my lips. A friend of mine--who isn't really a friend--invites me out after I finish cutting her hair. I can't resist, especially because I spent most of the night before fighting the impulse to run up to Graham's apartment, my sanity be damned. So I go out, pretending to laugh at all the right moments, trying to ignore how lonely and miserable I feel. Then I'm angry with myself. How can I miss Graham already? I don't; it's a weird misfiring of my brain. I'm going crazy. It's not him at all, not really. I keep repeating that with every vodka I chug. Someone's hands are on my waist. His hard dick is pressing into the thin fabric covering my ass. He's sweaty, and he groans into my ear. "What's your name, baby?" "I'm No-one," I tell him. He laughs and it's all wrong but I don't move away. We get lost in a sea of swarming bodies, of people who are all a little lost themselves. The bass vibrates through my body and the guy behind me thrusts into me to the beat. It's disgusting and disorienting but it's what I want. It's what I need. He won't care about me, or my scars, or if I cry when he fucks me. After a few more drinks and a couple more songs, he asks me to go back to his place. He's smirking, eyeing me like a hard-won prize. Or maybe more like an easy-won prize. He thinks he's going to use me tonight; he has no idea how much I'm using him. In the foggy drunkenness of my brain, I rationalize it would be better to go back to my apartment. I drag him behind me, ignoring the thumbs up of the girl who brought me here. A cab is waiting and I have a moment of self-preservation. I push the nameless guy away and get into the cab alone. "What the fuck? What are you doing?" I ignore him, hearing him call me a bitch from down the street. I'm not really present for the cab ride home, but I come back as I'm tripping up the stairs. One of the guys who live two floors below me pops his head out the door. He looks at me, wasted and dressed like a slut, and I can almost taste his judgment. He shuts me out and I keep on walking. My door is fuzzy when I get upstairs and I can't seem to open it. My key clatters to the floor and everything becomes too much. I collapse, sobbing and lost. Graham steps out of his apartment and catalogues the situation immediately. My dress has ridden up, leaving my thonged lower half completely exposed. My lipstick is all over my face from the sloppy kisses of the guy before, and mascara has leaked down my cheeks. How humiliating. He gazes at me for a moment, his eyes soaking me up. He's expressionless and that's terrifying. Then he comes over and hugs me close to his chest, soothing me with words I can't decipher. Snot runs out of my nose and I choke on tears. I realize I keep saying "I'm sorry". "Stop, Virginia, it's okay now. It's all right. I've got you. It's okay. I've got you now." He takes my key from my shaking hands and unlocks the door. We fall into the little hallway of my apartment and he shuts the door. I sink down to the hard wood floor and he follows, cradling me in his arms. "I'm so sorry," I say again. "Shh. It's okay." He kisses my forehead. We sit there forever, him rocking me, me whimpering and trying to apologize. I can feel him watching me in the dark, even if I can't see his face, but this time it doesn't bother me. This time I'm just happy he can even bear to look at me. And I'm hoping those sapphire eyes will see through me and know that this wasn't me at all. Or at least, not who I want to be. + The next morning my eyes are red but thankfully dry. Graham is asleep in my bed. I take a moment to appreciate him and then I kiss the scar on his eyebrow. I get up to make coffee for us. It's surreal to be doing this, to have him in my apartment, especially after everything that happened last night. I can't help but be hopeful. "Hungover?" I jump and glance up at Graham leaning against the wall, a small smile curving his lips. "A little. I deserve it." He walks over to me and, without warning or hesitation, kisses my temple. Warmth blossoms in my chest and jolts of pleasure snap down my spine, fizzling out in my toes. "No, you don't." He pulls away with a strange smile and pours some coffee into one of the cups I pulled out. "About last night-" "You apologized enough. Let's forget it." "But I wanted to explain that-" "You don't need to explain. I see you, Virginia." He takes a gulp of coffee, letting his eyes drift down my body. It isn't a heated glance. It isn't sexual at all. "You're a warrior, just like you said your mom was. I think you've been through a lot. I think you've had a real hard time of it. And I think you don't know how to let yourself be happy, even if happiness knocked on your door." He gives me one of his great smiles and lowers his mug. "I guess it's a good thing I'm so persistent. I don't care how many times you tell me to leave, I'm not going anywhere. I like you. A lot. I didn't think that would be possible for me, but I want to know you." He shifts a little, looking uncertain and vulnerable for the first time since I met him. His hand fists a lock of my hair. "I still want to know you. And I want to take care of you, if you'll let me." He kisses my nose. "Please, just let me." + That night, he comes over after work and tells me about his ex-girlfriend. He broke up with her because he said there was nothing worse than being loved by someone who you didn't love back. Before, I'd argue it was way worse to be the unloved one, but his earnestness proves it's just as tortuous. Tears prickle my eyes when he tries to convince me how hard he tried to love her. "Every morning, I'd stare at her at breakfast and tell myself to love her," he tells me. His smile is sad, laced with regret. "I just couldn't. She was such a good girl... I hurt her so much." His gaze is like a kiss when it settles on me. "But she just wasn't the one." He says he's a disappointment to his family, and that's really why he moved. "I thought I was broken. That I couldn't feel things correctly," he whispers. I nuzzle into his neck, telling him without words I felt the same way. "Sometimes when I looked at them, I couldn't help but wonder if they felt the same way." "I've never known a person who felt more than you," I say. He laughs and drags his hand up my arm, inviting goosebumps to raise all over my flesh. "It's your turn." He flips my hand over and lays an open-mouthed kiss on it. "Your turn for the soul-baring." I try to pull my hand back but he's too strong, and my will is too weak. "What do you want to know?" "Why you look like you hate to be touched. Why you tried to ditch me. Why you brought a strange guy home with you. Why you don't like talking about yourself." Swallowing, I try to smile. "Oh, that's all?" "No more hiding. You don't do that great a job of it, anyway." Graham meets my eyes. "Just give a little of yourself to me, Ginny. I'll try not to ask too much. I just need to know you. Why you're fighting this." I don't want to say anything, but I don't want to be alone anymore. I want him. "I've just been lost for a long time. I haven't had a lot of luck with love." He snorts and caresses my back. "No, really," I tell him. I take a deep breath and prepare to do for him what I haven't done for anyone in a long time. I'm going to let him see me- really see me. I lift my shirt up over my head, ignoring his gasp, and throw it to the floor. Shifting so my back is to him, I take another slow, calming breath and wait. I know what he sees- a highway of scars and smoothed over gashes. A literal roadmap of pain. A museum of battle scars and broken hearts and pleas that went unanswered. He doesn't speak. He doesn't do anything at first. Then he touches me and I crumble. Tears are already dripping from my chin. He turns my body around and envelops me into his body, absorbing me. His lips drop down to my shoulders. "I'm here." His voice is calm. Sure. Rock-steady. "I'm here now." + "And how'd you get this one?" he asks. His thick, calloused finger runs along the old scar on my shoulder blade. Images of belt buckles flying through the air come back to me and I hold my breath. "Won't you tell me?" His lips kiss it and I shiver. Sometimes it's too late for a kiss to make it all better, like how it's too late now, but I love him for it. My eyes tear up because he's told me everything about himself and I can barely share a five minute story with him. We're both naked now- literally and figuratively. It's not fair to him and for the millionth time, I hate that I'm like this. "I can't." My voice is broken and breathy. "I'm sorry." And just like always, he understands. His hand curves up my forearm, over my elbow, and rests on my upper arm. It pushes my body closer to him, cocooning me into his side. I feel his lips on the top of my hair, pressing another kiss down. "Shh. It's okay. There's no rush." His other hand lifts to touch my face. The feeling of his fingertips skimming my jawline make my eyes flutter. He puts a little pressure on my chin so I look up. "There's no rush." As he kisses me again, moving his warm lips against mine, I sigh and let him comfort me. I can't resist it. He's worn me down; I've worn me down. Our love has won. I'm not sorry for it. "Touch me?" I ask. He doesn't ask me if I'm sure because he knows I wouldn't have suggested it in the first place if I wasn't. His body cloaks mine, ever protecting. Ever loving. His heated length slides over my thigh and aligns with the wetness I haven't felt in ages. His nose, broken a dozen times over, bumps into mine affectionately. "You ready?" "Graham," I breathe. Then he's inside of me, sliding and thrusting. It is so astoundingly beautiful, so absurdly wonderful, I begin to cry. He notices and kisses the trails of tears. "God," I laugh, wiping a tear away with a tut of annoyance. "I'm such a woman." Graham pushes a bit harder, making me gasp, and toys with my nipple. "Mmm, yes. You are." The sun comes up at some point. I'm only aware of it because of how his blonde hair glints in the fresh sunlight, how suddenly the shadows of his body become clearer, how I can see every delicious twist of his face. No words are spoken. Nothing conversational or erotic or confessional. None of that is necessary now. This isn't about dirty fucking, or merely getting off. It's about healing and learning all the secrets we hide from the rest of the world. It's enough to feel every silky slide of our stomachs against one another, every breathtaking pulse of his cock inside me, every meeting our lips and frantic tug of our tongues. As the passion grows, our bodies become more frantic. Graham's motions are faster and my moans turn to whimpers. His mouth possesses my breast, whispering secrets to it while his tongue coats the nipple in deliciously wet circles. My body gives no warning when it's about to come. It just happens. Graham lifts his head, sensing the tightening of my muscles, and smiles softly. His lips are wet, his hair is every which way. He kisses me deeply, murmuring something into my mouth. I hold onto it, pulling and tearing, as everything inside of me seizes and releases. Years of loneliness, of fear, of pain, of frenetic worry, surge out of my body and into the atmosphere. Something has happened to me. I feel free. Wonderful. My body is just bones and muscles and heart as Graham searches for his own ecstasy. I detail every twitch of his face as he reaches it, surging inside of me. When he kisses me slowly afterward, finally falling to my side but grabbing me close, I know he's free, too. + "I'm sorry? Can you say that again, dear?" I grin at Graham who is whipping us up some pancakes a few mornings later. He's probably going to be late for work again but everything about him is so unhurried, unconcerned. He notices me watching him and he can probably hear my mother's shriek of disbelief. "Sure, Mom," I say to the phone. "You need to put out another plate for Christmas. I'm bringing a date." "Well, sure, Ginny. I had no- well, sure. Sure. I mean... Who is this guy? You haven't- oh, that's wonderful. Honey, I'm so excited!" I'm laughing as Graham kisses me goodbye, whispering he'll see me later. + I sit on the stoop waiting for Graham to come home. He spots me as he comes down the sidewalk but he doesn't rush. His smile is slow and perfect, and just for me. We don't say hello when he finally meets me. He sits down next to me, takes my hand and gives me a kiss that's far better than hello. Some kids playing outside yell "ewww!" at our kiss and we grin at them. We watch them for a bit, throwing snow at one another and enjoying themselves. It begins to flurry. I can feel the cold through my bones, so I burrow into his warmth. It'll be a tough season, they say. Spun I'm not worried. Spunk On My Panties? A special thanks to Tammy23 for editing after suggesting an expansion of a story I told in a bar. * There are panties and there are panties. Don't know about you, but the guys I've dated who've gotten to, well, see me dressed down have gotten to see all kinds of skimpy nothings. Some like me in a thong, I guess I like that too. Don't like g-strings, too nothing, and I'm not a big grandma panties kind of girl. Most of the time, at work or play, I like a variety of those stretchy, comfy, no-show hip huggers that are completely smooth under clothing, like there is nothing there. Seamless for sure, these cotton briefs are so very comfortable and guys wonder if I am wearing anything at all. I know my ex-boss and current lover Lin has slipped his hand down the back of my pants or skirt and marveled at the feel of them, and he loves when I run around the room in his shirt and these cotton undies. My current boyfriend (yes, I know, I have a lover and a boyfriend, long story, check out the Doin' the Boss series for more on that escapade) likes the hip huggers but prefers a thong on me. He told me once that he like the idea that only a small strip of cloth was keeping him away from his "prizes" hidden underneath. Different strokes for different folks, I guess, is the operative phrase. Which brings me to an embarrassing, exciting, naughty and that entire event last Friday night. Setting the stage, Lin was with his wife and family on a two-week jaunt to Hawaii. I wished I was there, was jealous, but I knew the story. He had his life, I had mine, and we shared a third in between. Nothing was changing that scenario. My boyfriend Will was in Myrtle Beach with some buddies, undoubtedly playing golf and frolicking around the strip clubs at night. How did I know? I knew Will, and he was a horn dog. But generally he kept it in his pants...except the night before I had called and a woman answered the phone. When I called back she told me to fuck off and not call back. I got pissed off. The bastard was in South Carolina with a hussy humping her brains out and I was up north playing working woman struggling for some legal tender. Bastard. Of course, you don't get pissed off with a guy, you get even. Two could play that game. But I wasn't going to just take some guy home, heck, I did have a lover and Will didn't know about him. And it wasn't as if I was pretty miss perfect. But I wanted to teach him a lesson. My friend Tammy and I lamented about our men, our frustrations and how they sometimes treated us like crap. Each of our breaks that day were bitch sessions, and after work we were joined by Kimberly at our favorite local watering hole. There we were joined by several friends and the liquid courage followed. All of this lead up to a naughty night that I got some payback for my boyfriend's stupidity and led to me feeling nasty. Really, I did think of taking some random guy home and fucking him. The opportunities were there. A guy I'd dated, and actually had given a blowjob to in the car years back, was there. Stephen. But he was a jerk. And Kevin, well, that was a whirlwind few weeks of frolicking before I learned he was married with two kids. Go figure. When his wife found out there was a week of hell for me and months for him. No, I didn't want to cause any kind of spontaneous uproar with my life. I wanted to teach a lesson, but not suffer terrible consequences. Besides, I thought of my nearly perfect relationship with Lin, other than his wife and family, and I knew I was at least somewhat secure there. That's how the night started, munchies and drinks, and with Kimberly being the designated driver we didn't have to worry about getting home. It was a fun night, lots of dancing, talk and inappropriate behavior. Just letting out all the frustrations of the week. Guys kept sending our table drinks, and soon we were dancing with the guys from high school. Back then they were wallflowers, but the drinks and a little maturity got them up and about and getting down. During one break Tammy said I was making a spectacle of myself on the dance floor. "Damn girl, every time you turn quickly your skirt flows up and your panties show. You're driving the guys crazy." I laughed, and figured, give the guys a show! I asked Kevin where his wife was, and he said she was over her mom's and they had a babysitter. He didn't get out often, so he was enjoying himself. I think he also was enjoying holding my butt while sitting next to me. As the night went on, he got more courageous and slipped his hand down my skirt. Leaning over, he whispered he still loved my ass. I told him to keep his hand off it, or at least on my panties. No bare ass for him tonight, no way, no how. Disappointed, he pushed a little and I emphatically said I'd tell his wife everything if he was a bad boy. That brought him down a little, but I remember when I leaned back and happened to look over there was a tent in his pants. Little Kevin was getting bigger. We talked, we danced and we took turns with different partners. But every half hour or so Kevin would be beside me. About 10 p.m., and buoyed by a half dozen gin and tonics, he laughed that everyone in the bar had seen my panties but him. I laughed and said he could see them, as long as he didn't touch the merchandise. "Dare you," was his challenge. Looking around, I knew he was serious, and while I had been joking I thought back to our days together. I remembered the time I handed my panties to him at a restaurant after coming back from the ladies room. The look on his face was priceless. Remembering that, and knowing a dare was a dare, I told him to give me two minutes then come back toward the back of the bar toward the restrooms. I told Tammy to come out back in 10 minutes just in case. I knew there was a back exit, and I thought we'd head out back and I'd lift my skirt and make his night for future masturbation visions. On my way I noticed a stock room door ajar, and looked inside. Quiet. Secluded. Why not, I thought. Slipping inside, I waited until Kevin walked past the doorway. Beckoning him inside, he was surprised but obvious happy. He hugged me, kissed me and told me he missed me. I told him to calm down, this wasn't going to be a fuck fest, I was merely going to show him some undies and wiggle a little. Sorry, buddy. Agreeing to the ground rules, Kevin leaned back against the wall, fondling his dick though his pants. I silently danced a little before leaning against some boxes and slowly lifted my slinky black skirt. Soon, I was bare back there with the exception of my polka dot pink panties, the hip huggers I like so much. "Oh my that's beautiful," said Kevin, who slowly moved toward me. Dropping my skirt, I reminded him of our deal. He nodded, but then said the words that I'll remember forever. "Let me cum on your panties, Robyn, let me cum on them," he silently said. "Please, Robyn, please." Decisions are made in a second that can come back to haunt you, but they are made. I told him he could, as long as he didn't touch me. I heard him unzip and soon I heard some stroking behind me. I wiggled my hip huggers and looked over my shoulder at the man. He was jerking off, staring at my panty covered ass. It was an awesome sight. I mean, there he was, whacking off looking at my panties. No skin, no action on my part other than me sort of bent over the box with my ass pushed back. He worked that dick, slowly at first, but soon stroking quickly. I noticed his head push back and soon a groan emerged from his throat. "Oh Robyn, your ass is beautiful. I'm going to shoot on your panties, your wicked panties. Oh yes!" I felt the geyser of sperm hit my backside, soaking my panties from behind. I watched as he jerked his cock off. Wow. Coming down from his high he did break the rules a little by wiping his cock off on my skirt, but, well, I immediately forgave him. "What the hell?" It was Tammy and she was standing there with Stephen and another guy, Lawrence. I knew them, and the three were looking at me with my hands on the box, my ass pushed out and cum all over my polka dot hip hugger panties. I wanted to cover up, but his sticky sauce was all over my panties and I didn't want to put my skirt on the wet stuff. Then I thought better, and started to smooth down my skirt. Tammy, though, had a better idea. "Hey Robyn, I don't think you have enough stuff on your panties. Does she, boys?" With that Stephen and Lawrence said they could fix things, and in a jiff both were right behind me whacking off their dicks. Kevin slipped up my skirt, and told the guys to "hit the bulls eye." Damn, I was so very embarrassed, but by the same token I was soaking myself wet thinking of the naughty behavior. I can't believe it, but I stood there, ass pushed back, as the two guys worked their dicks to their own beat. Kevin and Tammy were watching from the side, rooting the guys on. It didn't take long, maybe two minutes, but soon Stephen was shooting his stuff all over my now becoming soaked panties. I think Lawrence was a little timid at the whole affair, but even he soon rocked and spewed out a dozen dollops of sperm onto my ass and skirt. Kevin and Tammy applauded their feat, as my red face got redder. The boys, to their credit, never ones attempted to pulled down my panties. Damn, I thought later, I could have been gang-banged. But in the end I had three loads of hot wet man sauce on my panties and skirt. Kimberly, who missed all the action, totally disbelieved the story we drunkenly told on the way home. Oh well, it was true. And Will got a photo in his in box to inform him of the occasion. Spunking Seventies It was a dark and snowy night. Not only snow but an icy blast of wind. Neither my sister nor I liked this kind of weather any longer, she was 73 and I was two years younger. For the last twenty years, since her divorce, we had both been living in my small house. Whereas I had never married she now had three adult sons whom I rarely saw nowadays. There were some other children who would never know to call me father, but by now they were probably parents themselves. When she had to sell her house as part of the divorce settlement she had been left with quite a bit of capital, at least in my eyes, and this came in very useful. She needed a place to live on her own and I needed a new roof on my little house. She paid for it and we agreed she had bought herself a third share in the house. Still though, there was no reason for us to spend our money wastefully. That was why we were spending the night in the same room once more, something we had not done for over six decades. Our parents had not been well enough off for us to have separate rooms and they needed room to be actively parenting in their bed. After our hot chocolate drink I rinsed the mugs while she was getting into her bed. Then I went through and made ready to get into mine. I paused just before climbing under the covers, thought of the coldness under them against the warmth near my big sister's pink and red nightgown and turned left instead of right. It was still cold but not so bad as if we had been in separate beds. Her muffled voice asked me if I was all right. I lay on my back as still as I could till my teeth stopped chattering and asked if she could hear the hailstones outside. She could. After a while she rested a hand on my chest, then her forearm. I knew I would not erect. Or even respond. But the bed was beginning to feel more comfortably warm and relaxing. So I did respond, by lightly stroking big sister's hairy arm, just the outside of the forearm. Just a little, then we lay quiet again with our own thoughts. In the way that people sometimes jerk when they wake she suddenly clasped me a little tighter. Now when I say clasped, it can be quite a force. She is shorter than me but considerably heavier and when you carry that weight all day you need strength just to move yourself. My fingers were still on her arm and they fell down either side. Now they were nearly touching the underside of her forearm. If she had hairs there she would certainly know where she was being tickled. She flattened her hand and slid it inside my pajamas to touch my chest. I responded by holding her underarm, ever so lightly, but enough to let her know that I was there. After all, she was looking for comfort and security. Some more hail rattled against the window and I held her a little tighter for a moment. "You all right?" "Yes. Its cold." And bits of her wobbled a bit closer to me while she pulled me back to her. Our bodies weren't touching but I could feel the heat from her. I let my hand move so that my fingertips brushed the inside of her forearm and let it guide me towards her wrist. We weren't going to cum or anything messy like that. "Hold me tighter", she urged, as she started to grip my chest with her fingernails. The shock jerked me towards 'machine mode' where I regard a woman as an opportunity for a ride, and I slid my fingers up to her elbow. The inside is the most sensitive but almost all of it except the point is worth working. I worked on the underside of it then lifted it higher in the air. She responded by sliding her hand down my chest, towards my stomach. Once her hand moved off my ribs it would surprise her by suddenly slipping down onto my stomach. Her elbow was straighter now so I could touch the inside of it with my thumb and rub gently. One way to influence the feelings in the rest of her body. As her hand fell down the slope from my ribcage to my stomach I gripped the whole elbow and held her. To control her. She was going to be my toy. I imprisoned her hand my laying my other hand over her's and we lay still for a rest. Then we lay enjoying each others warmth and slowly drifted off to sleep. When I woke she was kneading my penis as if it was putty in her hand. I swallowed very slowly but it was enough to let her know I was awake. "Its not very big." "Oh!" and I thought, 'just wait'. I also thought of her old vagina. It must be dry and stiff. I could force it open but that would not be very nice at breakfast time. Her babies would certainly have widened it but I had no clue what tears there had been or what exercises she had done. Anyway, that was more than thirty years behind her. I had some slight trepidation about entering a woman more than seventy years old. But then I felt that basic feeling in the pit of my stomach that she was going to have me in her tonight regardless. Our dissimilar shapes and weights were only a problem to be overcome. Again I began to work on her elbow and as I touched her upper arm she used what I called her 'alluring' voice. "Won't you touch me?" I knew what she meant and changed hands. My right hand crossed my chest to work on her arm and my left arm drew her closer to my body. Then my hand dropped down behind her to feel her cheeks. They were big. Also very warm and soft. My hand worked the center of each one and then ran round the huge smooth arc, down to the top of each thigh. The feel of them was rather pleasant. Meanwhile she became more active with her hand on my penis. "Do you like what I am doing to you? I can feel it growing." "Yes. Your hand is lovely and it holds me so well." 'Too well', I thought, 'and I will end up coming in your hand instead of inside you'. I slid my hand between her buttocks and opened them a little. In my detached way of thinking I knew that there was an orifice there which opened daily. She guessed what I might be thinking and it put it off her stroke, giving my penis a rest. I swung my hand in to guard it. "Don't. Not there." Instead she led my hand from her back to her front, down over her huge stomach and chose a finger to place on her clitoris. Then she pressed it in to where there was no hair and buried it almost up to my second finger joint. My fingertip recognized a urethra and next to it a clitoris. Target For Tonight! Slowly I established the limits. My other fingers explored, testing for the vagina. She had lubricated it with something. "Keep out of there!" She seized my wrist with both hands and started to force me to rub her clit. I exceeded her best efforts by simply moving my fingertip so much faster and accurately than she could move my arm. Now she was hanging on to my arm, breathing heavily and pushing herself in closer. My arm seemed to have been pushed between her breasts. In what seemed like only a few seconds she started to cum. I will never understand why they breathe like that, one minute sucking in huge lungfuls of air, the next gasping shallow breaths, occasionally choking. But what thighs do is splendid. She jerked her's up and gripped my hand between them. Yet even with such a firm grip they were wonderfully soft. What they could not do was influence the movement of that one finger, the one which was pressing her clit. So I took her as high as she would go and let her down a bit. Then I started moving it again and promptly brought her off once more. And again and again. Just as she had worked my penis as if it was putty so I worked her entire body through that one tiny jewel. It was time to make my move and I rolled round to look at her. "You can't come in," she said. "That's OK. Just put it near you because its going to come over you." Thankfully she slid it out from my pajama trousers. I moved closer till I was brought up short by her nine-month belly. "It will need to be closer or it will be messy," I didn't add, 'at your side.' Then I brought her off again and wriggled down a bit. She wanted me. She wanted me so badly she managed to get the tip of my penis on her clit and began to work it. I felt her hot wetness begin to slide over the fat tip of my penis and knew I had triumphed over big sis. One way or another she would be spiked that night. All I needed to do now was not to go off too early and I was having trouble with that. It felt so fat! "You wont be able to go in me." She started losing her breath again. I rocked back and forth on her belly making my still hardening penis move out a fraction then back in more than a fraction and slid my top foot forwards, towards her. Sure enough she came again and her thighs came up as my penis slipped in a little bit more. It was even fatter, getting huge. Maybe that was her thighs gripping me. As she came down she let her legs straighten and go down. That was when I hooked my heel behind hers. Quickly I brought it up behind her knee and before she knew what I was up to it was my knee behind her knee. Then I pulled and she started to roll over me. Once the weight of that first leg passed over me she tried to push herself up off the bed to prevent my penis plunging straight into her body. I slid a hand under her hips and helped her till she was half kneeling astride me, holding herself above a penis which felt very fat and slippery, and very strong. Now it was my knees which were bent, holding her thighs apart, making her vagina more accessible for my thrusts. "No you mustn't". I rocked her belly back on the hollow of mine and proved her wrong. Her own weight was forcing her over me and she could do nothing about it. Little by little, gasp by gasp, she slid down the length of my shaft until I could feel her pubes pressing into my hairs. "Mustn't I?" It had taken her less than a minute to engulf me. "Its swelling." So it was. The head was getting fatter than ever I remembered. My breathing was changing and she knew what was happening. She started to cum again just when I knew it was time to thrust to the max. I dropped my knees to buck my hips up into hers. My seed shot into my sister. She didn't cum, she said. "Its hot. Oh that's hot" and lay exhausted along me. I spread my elbows and brought my hands back in to hold her head. I desperately wanted to kiss her mouth and brought her lips to mine. As I was greedily sucking the breath out of her I realized I had more in me to put inside her and started to work my penis inside her birth canal at the same time as I worked my tongue inside her mouth. This time the flashing lights were behind my eyes and the terribly hard squeezing was in my balls. When I had recovered she was now totally relaxed except for one place - where she had wrapped herself around my penis and was slowly spasming. She stopped and I helped her roll off me. "We did it," she said, surprised and dreamy, "I wont spill a drop." "Yes, you are lovely." I thought for a moment that encompassed many decades. "Yes, you are lovely and you always will be, just as you always were before." "Thank you bro. I love you." Spunky She didn't know it, but I had wanted her before I even met her. We had a mutual friend, Amanda, who ran a club review website and I was always being asked to make suggestions on how to improve it. One day I went on the website and saw this woman whose eyes and smile sparked with life and energy. I was taken into them right away and was lost in a whirlpool of desire. I was never really too big on blondes cause, it seems to me that everyone wants to be a blonde, and the look is boring to me now. She was blonde in the picture on the website, but I couldn't look away. It was the eyes. I wanted to swim in them for hours. I asked my friend who she was and was told that her name was Alyssa. I tried to be subtle about getting more information about her, but my friend knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. "Hot eh? "What do you want to know about her?" was all Amanda asked. "It's not that, well, yeah she is hot, but, she looks cozy with you in that picture where you are both on the couch and I was just wondering if she is at the clubs often.", I said. "You know I have only been divorced for a week and am not ready to get back into the field just yet. But you know that I am thinking of joining you at the club one night, and she seems like a nice person and I was wondering if she will make my first time memorable enough to keep coming back". I hoped Amanda did not see through my bullshit, but it was going to be hard to pull a fast one over her. She had known me for 26 years. I could hear the smirk over the phone, "She is a blast. She has the same kind of energy that you have when you like to party, but I will warn you ahead of time about one thing. I know that you get a little insecure about your little beer belly sometimes and it makes you self conscious. If you are going to come out, you have to realize that we see past things like that. You are a good looking guy and if you don't have some confidence in yourself, she will pick up on it, and not want to laugh with you. You have a great sense of humour, and as long as you are your old self, she and the rest of the gang will all have a good time." I knew that I had the perfect outfit for that night. I was pre-informed that this club liked it when you wore clothing that was out of the ordinary and so I had an old costume that made me look like a gothic crypt keeper. When you included my top hat and cane, it would be perfect. When I got to the club that night, I was earlier than most of the gang, at least I assumed I did because Amanda was not there, and I did not recognize anyone. I was outside having a smoke at one point when I saw this spitfire of energy laughing. The sound was like music and she turned to look at me. "Nice outfit." was all she said, and I could tell that she meant it. She was wearing a short skirt, brown jacket and had long flowing brown hair. She was a hottie and seemed to give the impression that a fun time followed her no matter where she went. I couldn't help think that I knew her from somewhere, but could not place it. We spent the next half of an hour bumping into each other now and then and having a few laughs with each other. Finally Amanda showed up and started to introduce me to the people she knew. She then turned to the hottie I had been joking around with for the past little while and told me, "This is Alyssa" All I could say was, "How could I have not known that you were friends with Amanda?" She smiled and that is when it hit me. I had not recognized her because her hair was brown now, and not blonde like in the photos. She now looked a thousand times better. She was dressed like a surfer punk chick and I wanted to do about a thousand things to her that were illegal in most provinces right there. I got to know everyone at the club as the night progressed, but my thoughts kept returning to her. I am not much of a dancer but she was. It was hard to keep my pants from stirring as she moved on the dance floor. It was pure erotica. She knew how to move and didn't care what she did when she was out there. At one point she came back to the table for her drink and I was surprised to see her down the whole thing in one gulp. "C'mon you hunk of fresh meat, come on the dance floor with me. I want to see how you move!" I was nervous, but for some reason I was passable on the floor. We meshed well together and when she pushed her ass against me, I couldn't stop it from growing. We danced for a couple of songs and then she simply walked away from the dance floor. I looked around for her a few minutes later, after I had finished my drink and Amanda told me that she had seen Alyssa head to the back room where the harder metal was played. I was a metal fan, so I decided to look for her in there. I was passing by a door on the way to the back room when I felt something grab a hold of my arm and pull me into this unknown room. Before I could do or say anything, I felt a pair of hands on the back of my neck, and a tongue was pushed into my mouth. I was feeling in such high spirits that I was in no condition to fight it and a few seconds later, when my mystery assailant let me go, I was staring into Alyssa's eyes. "You move pretty well out there. So I decided to see what else you do well!" Without a warning, she pulled me close to her again, and my lips found their way to her neck. She tasted delicious and I heard a small whimper from her as I sank my teeth into her. Her hands wrapped around me and pulled me close as I played with her neck. She was wearing a short skirt and as my hand reached under it to grab her ass, I discovered that she was either wearing a g-string or nothing at all underneath. I pulled her closer to me and squeezed her but as she pushed my head harder into her neck demanding that I feast some more. One of her hands reached down between us and started to fondle me as I continued what I was doing. She pulled her head away from me and again kissed me as deeply as she could. This was obviously a woman who knew what she wanted, and was determined to get it. As our tongues wrapped around each other, she stopped playing with my manhood and released it from its zipper. I have never been much for underwear so there was nothing to stop her from pulling my throbbing member out into freedom. The feeling of her stroking me whilst she sucked on my tongue was a sensation I will never forget. Without a warning she pulled away from my face, but never let go of what she had in her hands and got to her knees. In only a split second she had gone from having her lips at my mouth, to having them around my cock. She was good. She wasted no time getting me all lubed up with her saliva. She took me in her mouth as far as it would go and the feeling of her teeth gently scraping against my flesh as she pulled back only served to keep me at attention. She made sure not to take her lips off of me as she kept sliding back and forth. I looked down to enjoy the view of her actions and noticed that she was stroking herself as she performed on me. Her grunts of pleasure only served to keep me excited. Now and then she would take me out of her mouth and lick the sides of my shaft as well. I had to hold onto the wall behind me as she performed one of the best blow jobs I had ever received. She took control and kept me hard while making sure that I never came close to cumming. Just when I thought I was going to explode, she would stop for a second to moan as she obviously slid a finger into herself. Suddenly, she stood up and turned her back to me pulling her hair to one side so that her neck was fully exposed to me again. I had no choice but to sink my teeth back into her neck, but this time I made sure that I got to feel her breasts. They were full and supple and I could tell through the fabric of her Playboy tank top that her nipples were as erect as my dick. As I devoured her neck, I reached my hand under her top and rolled one of her nipples between my fingers. With my other hand I reached down between her legs and felt a drizzle of wetness greet my fingers. She had been the first to come, but I didn't mind. Better her than me. Her ass pushed harder against my pelvis as I massaged her tit and clit at the same time. I was being a little evil and made sure that I did not enter her in any way yet. I could hear the desire in her moaning to have me enter her, but I was not ready to do that just yet. She had teased the hell out of my system while pleasuring me, and I was determined to do the same. My fingers played against her for a while until it seemed like she was going to come wether or not I placed my fingers inside of her, so I decided to give her a little surprise of my own. Just as she bit her lip to keep a scream from escaping, I pulled my hands away from their play place and turned her around so that her chest was against the wall. Now it was my turn to be on my knees and I dropped so that her ass was right in front of me. I pulled on her hips a little so that she was not quite right up against the wall and so that I now had her wet mound right in front of my face. With gusto, I licked her right there and then. I could feel her knees start to buckle as my tongue licked her labia. It was hard from the heat we had been creating and tasted as sweet as honey. I made sure to leave no inch of her pussy unlicked and when I got to her clit, I took it between my teeth and gently grinded it between my upper and lower incisors. This caused a wave of pleasure and she practically sat on my face as her body lowered itself for more. I reached up with one of my hands so that I could continue to play with her button and slid my tongue inside her. This was too much for her and she could not keep quiet as she came all over my face. I could still hear the music outside in the club and was thankful that it was so loud that no one could hear her as she let out a scream of pleasure that would have scared a wild animal. I continued to tongue fuck her until I could hold back no more. I stood up and pulled her hips back a little further and pushed the erection between my legs into her while standing up. I couldn't hold back and let out a grunt as I entered her. The feeling of heat around my dick as I slid into her felt amazing. I pulled her towards me as far as I could and pushed with all I had. I saw her head fly backwards with pleasure as I entered and knew that it too felt good for her. In that little room, the sounds of her ass slapping onto my thighs was louder that the music, but we didn't care. We were lost in the throes of ecstasy as we moved in time to the music. We both moaned with pleasure and excitement as she continued to slide back and forth along my hardness. She made sure that I never left her and kept one hand on my wrist to make sure that I never let go. I was close to coming several times, but it felt too good to complete the action, so everything would just reset itself. It felt like we had been going at it for hours and finally I could hold back no more. I heard myself tell her I was going to come between her yelps and grunts and my news only seemed to excite her as her voice got louder. With all my energy, I finally exploded inside of her and we both let out a scream that I could have sworn stopped the club from hearing the music. It was only after I pulled away from her that I realized that we were in a supply closet. I reached over and grabbed a paper towel to clean myself off. As I did, I saw her out of the corner of my eye reach onto a shelf and grab the thong she had taken off when she planned this little tryst. I didn't know what to say, and realized there was nothing to say as she winked at me, told me lets go, and opened the door. We have never really discussed that first time. I don't know if it will go anywhere, and don't really care. Spunky & Perky The knob pressed into the blond's ample ass and provoked a startled gasp as she tried to apply yet another coat of glossy red lipstick to her pouty lips. "Sorry." I started to shut the door to the tiny bathroom. Behind me the stereo boomed and people were laughing. "That's okay," she said, sliding out of the way and waving me back in. She was in little pink shorts that clung to the curves of her bottom, high heels and a white crop top with the word SPUNKY! stretched across her large knockers in big black letters. I came in and shut the door behind me. "I don't mind if you want to whip it out," she said. "All that beer and ogling women must make your cock very big." "Mmmmm...beer and sluts," I muttered, as I slid by her ass on the way to the toilet. I opened the lid and lifted the seat. "The beer makes the sluts easier and prettier." She turned and eyed me. "I though I saw you having your tongue cleaned by a red head?" "She didn't like it when I asked for some head." "Oh, that's because she's got such a small mouth. Her pussy could take a mountain gorilla though." "That would be the guy who has got her in the pool house right now." I unzipped my jeans. I was ready to piss a swimming pool. "Are you staying?" She was obviously a woman who liked a dare. She nodded, looking down curiously at the bulge in my jeans. "Okay, excuse the pre-cum. That red headed bitch was hot." I pulled my lizard from my briefs and flopped it over the toilet. I looked up, pleasure on my face, as the yellow stream arched into the toilet. She was staring intently. "You like?" "I'm jealous." She slipped behind me, pressing her boobs into my back and grinding her pelvic bone into my ass. Her hand slipped over my right hand which was holding my cock. "Let me!" I took my hand away and she starting doing circles over the toilet. She began to slip her hand up and down my dong. It stiffened but still flowed with piss - after four beers I wasn't stopping for a while. "What a big hose!" she cooed. She let a bit splash on the seat. "What a messy boy!" The door to the bathroom popped open, and the room was filled with the rapid thud of some techno-dance song and the sound of happy partiers. Then in rushed this perky cheerleader type. A stacked brunette, in a blue tank top and matching mini-skirt. On second look she wasn't looking so perky. "I'm gonna puke. Let me at the toilet." Then her eyes focused on Spunky and me and my cock making like an Italian fountain. Spunky's hand had shifted with the cheerleader's entrance and I was now pissing on the floor. "That's sick!" the cheerleader said, not taking her eyes off of us. Spunky just laughed and aimed my now almost completely errect cock at the cheerleader. The cheerleader (Perky) squealed as her top was quickly drenched in beer fueled piss. Because she wasn't wearing a bra her large nipples came quickly into view. She raised her hands, dumbfounded, to her knockers. "Oh my god." Then she flopped down, unconscious. Spunky was really laughing now. She squeezed the last drops of piss into Perky's open mouth. "Have a nice taste you cheerleading bitch!" Perky moaned, still unconscious, and smacked her lips. "I always thought she was a piss drinker," said Spunky. I shook off my amazement and dragged the piss soaked cheerleader into the shower. Then I shut the door and grabbed Spunky by the shoulders and shoved her against the bathroom sink. "What the fuck did you do that for?" My cock was still out, hard and slid between her thighs, but I didn't give a fuck. "I always wanted a monster cock to teach a stuck up bitch a lesson." She clamped her legs around my dong. "Wanna teach me a lesson?" I growled and flipped her around. With great deliberation I pulled down her shorts to reveal her ivory bottom. No panties, of course. "Oh, an ass man," she cried. I lifted up my large right hand and slapped her pale white curvy ass. It left a nice red hand print. "You fucker," she yelled. I thrust her legs apart and began to stroke her pussy with my hand. It was warm and wet and she moaned when I lightly squeezed her. She quieted down immediately. "I'm a bad girl," she purred, looking at me in the mirror. I reached down and took my cock back into my hand. Slowly I began to trace the head along her cunt lips. "Such a nice fat head!" She lifted her ass up, eager. I pushed in, letting the lips suck around the helmet. She moaned, feeling it pop inside of her. I ran my hand up and down my shaft and looked at where my head disappeared into her. I looked up, locked eyes with her in the mirror and began my slide down into her. I slid in slowly and forcefully, letting her shudder and shake and moan for all she was worth. I grabbed the bottom edge of the crop top and pulled it up over her face. She reared up grabbing for it, her boobs jiggling wildly, large globes with ripe red nipple centers. I started fucking her with abandon. She gave up on getting the crop top from around her face and just rested her hands on the mirror and sobbed with pleasure as I jack-hammered her on my cock. Just as she climaxed the cheerleader woke up and sat up in the shower. "You fuck that whore!" she called out. I dropped spent Spunky onto the bathroom counter where she slid down twitching, and whirled around to the cheerleader. "You need some manners!" And with that I unloaded the giant wad of cum I had built up with Spunky all over Perky's startled and then pleased face. Spurt after spurt. Her tongue hung out of her mouth trying to catch all the cum, but there was much to much. "I want some too," cried Spunky, and she joined the cheerleader in the shower, but that was all she wrote. Spunky began to lick Perky's face while the pompom girl started squeezing Spunky's boobs like she was hoping for some milk. I left them to hunt for that red head. She'd be Oral Annie after I gave her some stretching exercises. -FIN-