That’s how it started. Sitting on my couch, drinking a bottle of wine, watching the Chiefs and Broncos. When I first got the text I didn’t even recognize the number. I was lonely though, the Best Man Holiday had me thinking about love and life. So at that point I really didn’t care who it was.
“In driving so I shouldn’t be texting. WYD?”
Still having no idea who it was and not in the mood for a guessing game I finished another glass of wine and pressed call. It took a couple rings but when she answered I recognized the voice right away. I should have hung up the phone and blocked the number but for whatever reason I didn’t.
“I’m happy you called, I almost hit a curb trying to text. I was driving home from a friends and passed up P.F. Changs and thought about you. You remember that night?”
What did she want me to say? Of course I remembered that night. That night was what I loved about her and what I hated about her. She was aggressive, sexy, motivating. The problem was when a woman is that sensual all I could think about was, “If she’s not doing this freaky shit with me then who’s she doing it with?”
“I don’t want to go home. Can I come see you?”
She didn’t say it with her usual confidence, I knew if she was calling me then something wasn’t right. As explosive as our love making was that was never what our relationship was about. In the two years we knew each other I’d probably been inside of her less than 10 times. Our connection was one of lost souls. A connection I missed.
“Do you still remember the address?”
“I’m exiting the freeway now, I should be there in a minute.”
I guess there was little doubt in both our minds I wouldn’t say no. Standing on the porch waiting to see her headlights coming down the quiet street I was more excited then I was willing to admit to myself.
She pulled into my driveway, I could see her checking her face in the mirror. Walking towards me neuter of us could stop from smiling. Whether they were nervous smiles or genuine I had no idea. She walked in, not waiting on me to invite her in.
Before I knew it I had her pinned against the door. Her purse on the floor, her arms wrapped around my neck. My hands rubbing her stomach, tracing the outline if her bra. Desire isn’t something you can explain, our hunger for each other was timeless. Maybe I was lonely and she was vulnerable and that combination had my fingers inside her warmth. That bond had my tongue making a trail from her belly button to that magic button.
The more I kissed her, the more I felt her body responding, the more I wanted to please her. The more I needed to make her remember her pussy once belonged to me! Tugging at her jeans, sitting her left should on my thigh I buried my face inside her! The smell, the taste, the warmth of the walls I once called home were calling me.
“Eat it baby! Put your whole fucking face in it! Lick my ass!”
With us nasty was necessary, it was the norm! Things I’d done with her, to her! I would take to my grave.
Bending her over, spreading her ass cheeks and putting my thumb inside I just watched her wiggle. Pulling her panties to the side, rubbing my dick against her wetness her warmth felt like home. For a second I thought why aren’t I using a condom? Why does this feel so fucking right? My tears fell, the pleasure and comfort of the wetness surrounding my dick was beyond explainable…