It was late, 10 pm. I was relaxed, buzzed from the martinis I’d had with an old high school friend passing through town, and dressed in little pajama pants and a white t-shirt. My breasts hung heavy and loose beneath the filmy cotton as I bustled around the kitchen. A pot steamed on the back burner filled with aromatic chicken stock and clam juice. I tossed in the bright pink armor of six freshly shelled shrimp and stirred the risotto on the front burner.
I checked the cooking shrimp and removed them just as there was a knock at my door. I didn’t even bother to look up as I heard the door open and shut. The Neighbor walked in wearing only his shiny black basketball shorts. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said smiling. “It smells amazing.”
“Well, thank you,” I smiled back as I cleaned the scallops and put them in the hot pan the shrimp had just occupied. He walked around the bar into the kitchen. “Aren’t we dressed for dinner!” I laughed as I looked at the two of us.
The original plan had been for me to make him and his closest work friend dinner. He has this idea that she and I should be best friends, so I offered to host dinner and a movie at my place. Turns out she got shy and he had to work late, which suited me fine. It’d given me a chance to see my old high school pal and peruse the grocery store at 9:30 at night along side lonely bachelors and single moms with their tired kids stuffed into grocery carts.
“What are we having?” he asked as he sidled up to me and cupped my breasts. His chin rested on my shoulder and he peaked down to the stove top.
“Risotto with truffle oil, scallops and prawns and roasted asparagus,” I added, “because I know you love that shit. Simple and homey. Will you set the table for us?”
He released my breasts and set to work telling me about his long and awful day at the office. When he was finished with his chore he lay at the entrance of the kitchen and watched me with a smile on his face. I brought him a glass of wine and he sipped appreciatively. “I like this view,” he said and when I turned to look at him he was clearly staring at my bottom hanging out just an inch or so from my pj shorts.
“I’m glad you like it. Like I said, we really dressed for dinner!”
He’d found some candles and dimmed the lights so when we sat down we were bathed in candlelight. “This looks amazing, Hy,” he said.
“Well, here’s to hoping it doesn’t taste like shit!” I laughed as I said my usual little disclaimer before feeding someone.
We ate and talked like old friends, old lovers. We mmm’d and awed over the perfectly cooked risotto (possibly one of my best efforts to date). The heady, earthy truffle oil somehow made the meal more special, the moment more particular. When not another morsel of food could be swallowed he stood up and held out his hand.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Oh, TN, my belly!! It’s so full!” I cried.
“It’s ok. Let’s just go cuddle then.”
I took his hand and he led me to my room where a candle was already lit. He gently pushed me down and climbed in next to me. We threaded our legs together and he pulled me into his nook. As we continued to talk he absent-mindedly fondled my breasts. Then dropped his hand lower.
My belly still felt full, but my whole body was filling up. With love, with lust, with the need to wrap myself around him. I dropped my knees apart and granted him easier access.
His fingers pushed into me and swirled around the slippery skin. He pressed against my clit and massaged it gently, expertly. His expertise further titillated me. “God,” I gasped, “You’re getting so fucking good at that. It’s wonderful that I can trust you won’t hurt me.” So many men manhandle me; I’m too sensitive.
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he murmured into my neck.
“Yes. Yes, you have,” I whispered into the space above us.
He kissed me then, then my face and my neck. I let him seduce me, play my body like a cheap fucking fiddle. He set the pace, when clothes came off and in what manner. He massaged my thighs and my belly with his strong hands and dipped his mouth to my cunt. His hot, flat tongue lapped at me like the good little boy he is. Jesus fucking Christ, that kid is good.
He stopped with his mouth and sat up. His erection bounced mightily between us. He braced himself above me with one arm and guided his cock in with the other. Slowly, he stretched into me.
“Oh my God, Hy. You feel so good. You’re so tight.”
I thrilled at the words so rarely spoken. I often fear that I am not tight enough because he never says it and he has such a hard time cumming, but here he was exclaiming it with his own words. A beam of sunshine burst inside of me as I arched up to meet him.
He pumped into me for minutes, hours, an eternity. He growled and clung to me and flipped me around so I could grip the headboard. He split my legs apart and put one on his shoulder, his penetration pinned me to the wall. I felt him in my goddamned throat as my pussy sprung a leak and splattered us with her joy.
I cried and bucked beneath him as he stared down menacingly at me. He switched my legs and continued to lash at my soul with his cock. My tits jiggled with my belly as I was contorted into a sexual pretzel, immobilized with passion, his pussy. Always his pussy.
He stopped then and kissed me. “I want to see you cum,” he said simply as he leaned over and grabbed my Hitachi. I could only nod.
He pounded into me a few more times for good measure then took up his favorite spot of observing: his cock buried inside of me, my legs hooked over his hips, his head in his right hand, his left somewhere on my body.
The vibrations took me instantly and as his thrusts gently bumped into me like a boat in its dock the climax grew and grew. My eyes closed and I imagined what we must look like: two naked, creamy bodies hinged together like mating dragonflies, breasts heavy, nipples pert, candlelight shadows flickered across us.
I cried out and panted and arched my back. “That’s it, Hy,” he crooned. “That’s it.” His paws kneaded my breasts and I lay shaking beneath him.
“I want you to do it again,” he said.
I turned my head to look at him and his beautiful, boyish face was intent. I nodded. But before I could start he sat up between my legs and took me for a few thrusts, forever thrusts. Thrusts that split my brain open and my stupid heart. He was harder than ever and I silently marveled at his prowess… and my luck.
“I love,” I said as he worked himself inside of me, “fucking you,” I finished with a gasp. “I am so lucky to have you.”
I nearly took it back — it was too much, too open — but it was also too late. Wordlessly, he lay back on his side and flipped on the Magic Wand laying beside me. “Another,” he said.
“Ok,” I nodded.
Each orgasm I have is different. Each one has its own flavor, its own imagery. This second one was swift, but low. His thrusts continued with a methodical deviance that drove me wild. My breath hitched and I began to quake. His hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed; my orgasm lurched ahead. So delicious, just. out. of. reach. “Cum for me,” he suddenly said. “Cum for me now, you fucking slut. NOW.”
And then I did.
It spilled out of me like an avalanche and washed away all my cares, my hurts, and my worries. With it came sobs and yowls, a wild animal was released from me. “That’s right, baby,” he said between gritted teeth. “That’s my girl.”
I spiraled down from whatever planet I’d just touched with my celestial body and slammed back into myself with a cry. The tears poured out of my eyes and my cries were loud and ugly. If only I could find this much satisfaction in all of my life, all of my space, fill my loneliness with it and end my worry.
He slipped out of me then and pulled himself up behind me and held me as I continued to fall back down to reality. “Shhhh, it’s ok. You’re ok,” he said as he pet my head and kissed my ear. “It’s ok.”
Before I was fully myself again I pushed him onto his back. His cock was still rock hard, bigger than imaginable. “I want to suck it,” I said looking up at him from under my lashes. “May I?”
He said yes, but assured me he wasn’t going to cum. I promised him I wouldn’t try.
My arms felt weak from my orgasms as I gripped his shaft with my left hand and braced my upperbody with my right. I stroked him gently, lovingly. I flicked my tongue on his leaky aperture and sipped at his precum. I swallowed him whole and tasted my own juices, light and heady.
He moaned and stretched beneath me, pulsed in my hand. I closed my eyes and set a warm, steady rhythm with my soft mouth. My arm trembled, but I ignored it. My head worked like a piston, never slowing, never wavering. Tirelessly I worked his cock. I felt like I could do it forever — love on him in this way — but only a minute or two had passed.
I felt him stiffen beneath me, his thighs hardened like rock, his breath caught. I didn’t change one thing. I remained steady and sucked and lapped at him like my life depended on it.
He exploded into my mouth, thrust into my face as far as I could take him. I felt his hot spurts on the back of my throat. His wildly sexy grunts and pants proof that he, too, is human. Just like me.
I pushed down on him for one last slurp and he began to giggle. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed. “Hy, you’re so good at that!”
“Well, thank you. I try,” I smiled as I crawled up his chest and kissed him passionately. He grabbed the back of my head and pressed me into him, tasting himself on me.
I flopped to his side then, completely exhausted.
We lay there looking at each other. I pet his scruffy face and he pushed into my hand like a cat. My cat. “I really am going to miss you, you know,” he said then.
“Well, thank you,” was all I said in return.
Minutes or hours later, I didn’t really know (though I suspected the former) he got up and sought out his clothes. He tucked me in and gave me a sweet, lingering goodbye kiss. “Have a safe trip tomorrow,” he said as he walked out of my room. “I’ll lock the front door.”
I was on a plane to San Francisco the next day.