Red-headed and freckle-faced. He felt like he was in sixth-grade again, facing the first day of middle school. Hardly however. He was 31, it had been six years, and it was time. The music was loud, mind-numbingly loud. 'That's a good thing, right? Wait, obviously it's too loud for me to overthink everything, damn.' He paid the bouncer and pressed into the fray. 'A drink, yeah, something to slow me down.' He was too aware of his own anxiety. He was an introvert afterall, and this wasn't his scene. If he had to go out he'd much rather prefer to go to a quiet sports bar, eat a little, share some light conversation, and go home. This wasn't. His "BLF" insisted though. She and her wife were supposed to meet him here, help him connect with a woman, any woman, no pressure, no dating, just to say "hello." There was no singles ministry at his church, it was debatable as to whether there were any single ladies there, at least any that were younger than 45. It had been odd going to a widow/widowers therapy group and being the only one under 50. He knew a few widows in online forums, but he really didn't want, or they didn't want, or-he didn't know.
"Dude you're going to have to order or back off the bar." The cute Latina bartender in low-rider jeans and a low cut top was giving him an ugly look. "Sir!" "huh?! What?" "Drink?" "Oh, right, uhhh" his brain was flying through his past, "long-Island iced tea, uh, make it a double." "You sure, you look like you've had a few already." "No I'm sober" he laughed in an attempt to mask his clear uneasiness and anxiety.
Paying for his drink he cleared half his glass in one tilt. It tasted so good and smooth, not like it was a concoction of four different liquors and a splash of coke, almost exactly how he remembered it. He breathed out a slow breath and looked around taking everything in. The technicolored lights, the people all moving in different girations and attempts to appear rhythmic, some who were actually decent dancers, the room seemed to go in slow motion as his mind was in overdrive, processing through every detail. He took another sip and his mind slowed enough to let him match the pace of the club. Smiling with a fluttering heart and trembling hand he began to inch his way onto the dance floor. 'I' m going to enjoy myself' he thought, 'even if I don't connect with anyone, just forget about everything for a little bit.'
It wasn't even a little bit when she noticed him. An athletic goddess with a tight body, toned butt, light brown eyes, raven black hair, and bright, hazel eyes. She was 25, tired of playing with college guys, not into middle-aged men, and ready for something new. He was quirky, taller than her at probably, 5'9? But no basketball player, he didn't look like a gym rat, but he wasn't fat, and had a nice butt. She sipped her rum and pineapple juice slowly, letting its syrupy goodness slide over her tongue in a long, cool waterfall to her throat. She bit her lip, starting a slow saunter just outside of his area of focus, she began thinking through her tactics. Halfway to him she let her swagger go, afraid of completely intimidating him, she instead began a light but quick shuffle to the fast pulse of the song, bumping and rubbing against people as she went.
She was ten feet away when he finally felt her gaze as met her eyes. He no longer couldn't see the trees for the forest, but could now no longer see the forest for that one gorgeous tree. There was no way she was looking at him, she looked down towards the ground near him. 'Of course, there's no way she's into me.' Yet he couldn't help but to study her for a moment, a thigh-length, silky and shiny, dark blue halter-top dress that didn't grip her as tight as many in the club, but showed off her every sculpted curve and line. Suddenly it felt like she was looking at him again, and now he was sure. He lifted his glass to her as he bobbed and swayed slightly to the music. She met the air-cheers with her glass and appeared to giggle, grin, brush her hair back with her free hand, and look away. It had been a long time, but he wasn't an idiot, was he? He began a slow, awkward shuffle toward her. The alcohol was starting to slow him and his over-thinking mind and he shook off the intrusive thoughts, he could deal with those tomorrow.
'Oh my God, he's so awkward, it's cute, and besides Janelle, it's just for tonight, we don't have to tell anyone, and I bet it'll be fun, at least it will be new. Could he be more white though? Are those khakis? Wow this boy is Gaffigan white.' She shrugged and smiled pleasantly at him as they squared off, roughly matching each other's rhythm. Maybe it was an hour, maybe it was four. It was 2 more drinks later for both of them that they finally spoke, and he was the first to attempt to break the ice, feeling liquid brave and needing to slow down a little before going back to the floor. "I'm Bryon, what's your name?" He yelled into her ear, trying to cut through the music. "Janelle! What did you say yours was?" He shook his head, refusing to compete against the thump thump thump. Grabbing a cocktail napkin and a pen from a nearby receipt he wrote: B-Y-R-O-N "Byron nice to meet you, are you English?!" He shook his head and gave her a sideways puppy look, their eyes still dancing with each other, stars twinkling from the iris of each. He looked at the napkin, blinked the fuzziness back, and facepalmed.
She wrote J-A-N-E-L-L-E on the cocktail napkin. He said "Damn, that's beautiful" loudly at the very moment the song ended. He blushed "uh, um," She giggled and brushed her back again. "Ladies and gentlemen it's…. Midnight! This is DJ Centauri and it's time to bring out the stars with a long, slow song for you to get close to that ssssspecial someone….. We'll bring back the energy after that-" The DJ proceeded to list off drink specials and an event coming up but the pair didn't hear. Leaving half-full drinks on the bar they made their way back to the floor that was now clearing of much of the younger crowd. The lights switched to white stars and lasers pointed at the ceiling to look like a sky full of stars. They swayed to the slow song, getting closer and slower as the song went, yet their hearts pounded faster. He was drawing her in, but she was trying to draw him in. She knew what she wanted, but this was more intimate, she began to doubt what she wanted.
She was pulling him in, but he was trying to pull her in. There was something intoxicating about an ambitious and driven woman-which the fitness and the mission-mindedness seemed to portray. He kept thinking 'I've been staring in her eyes far too long. So? They're beautiful, and it's not like she's looking away either.' The game of eye-chicken could only one of three ways, and a collision seemed inevitable. He felt sucked toward her face, slowing to almost a stop just before their noses touched.
She could feel his hot breath on her face, and it seemed like the song had somehow gotten slower. Was he pressing in for a kiss? Was he pulling her in? Wasn't she? It all stopped when she pressed her lips to his and he pressed back. The rum and pineapple mixed with the Long Island Iced tea hit both like a perfect potion. They drowned in each other's lips and mouths until they were out of breath. Neither could think when they broke free, it was her body talking when she whispered "come back to my place?" He looked at her perplexed and drunk, though as much from the kiss as the alcohol. They hadn't even noticed the electronic club music had come back on. Her trembling fingers slid up his arm as she yelled in his ear "come back to my place?!" He nodded, smiling stupidly. She shook her head, grinning, also drunk from drinks and kissing. Holding his arm she led him outside and she hailed an Uber on her phone.
It was a 10 minute ride of blurry lights, a few more kisses and small talk with the driver to a loft apartment overlooking the river of the college town of a southeastern city. "This is beautiful!" He loved lights. "It's no country sky, but it's still beautiful. Where are you from? I can't place your accent, though maybe I'm drunk." "Yeah you are! " She laughed in slur and he giggled at her laughing and making fun of him. "I'm from New York, my mom's Puerto Rican and my Dad Jamaican, but according to my 23 and me there's a bit of every in here." "I'd like to be in here." He said not nearly as quiet as he had thought. She pretended not to hear, but bit her lip, a soft warmth that had been fluttering inside was now a soft steady glow, she smiled at this, looking him over. "Can I get you a drink? I think I'm going to have just one more. Hey Alexa, play that list I love." "Playing, that list I love." Music came on across the apartment with slower, sensual and suggestive songs, the lights adjusted to a soft glow across the open floor plan.
"Sure, Whatever you're having, plenty of ice, need some water or this will hurt in the morning." He leaned against the railing of the balcony listening to the songs of the city for several minutes, feeling the wind wisp across his face, for a moment the fishy, questionable smell of the port washed up the building, replaced in a moment by the most intoxicating smell of vanilla and… he couldn't place it, but it was feminine and intoxicating, as if that were still possible to his already numb head. He turned, following his nose and there… It took him a long two seconds before he realized his mouth had melted to the floor. "Wow," "boy you are so white!" He giggled, his brain blasting through the booze to take in every inch of this queen in the corset lingerie and thong she had put on. She was perfect, maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn't think so, he hoped against it, because she was heavenly. Intrusive thoughts screamed at him. He almost thought he heard his late wife yelling from below, a tear hit his duct, and then all that rushed away when she took his trembling hand.
Seeing the tear she asked "everything okay." "It's just been awhile, a long while, I was married, that seems like another life though…" His voice trailed off, caught in his throat. She put a finger softly to his lips, pain and heartache etching his face. She bent her chin down and kisses his chest. "Can I kiss it better?" He shook his head "yes." She ran her hands up and down his chest and kissed it again, and then caressing his neck with one hand and his head in the other she kissed him compassionately, pulling him inside. He returned the kiss, flowing with her lead. She slid off his shirt and kissed over his heart again. "mmmm" he let out in approval. "Hey Byron, if you need me to stop, just say so." He giggled and replied: "It's Bryon." "I know," and she kissed and began sucking on his left nipple, leaving him shifting and squirming.
Unsure what to do, and for a second trying to remember if he had ever experienced that before. He hadn't said his wife was his only-wait, oh, "uhmmmmm." Pleasure and anticipation ran over his body like the fire over a flaming cocktail as she undid his belt and pants. Her lips were so soft, her body too, but firm underneath, alluring, sexy, beautiful, no carving of venus could have matched her. A fiery warmth seemed to meet her every kiss on his skin, which she was now at his abdomen. He stroked her hair back from her face. She slowly rubbing one hand up and down his flat and boring body, but she seemed to like it, or knew he liked it. Her other hand sliding down towards his manhood-which was arguably less drunk than he was. Sparks of electricity flew from their skin, he tingled, "fuck it feels so good." "Wait until I get where I'm going." 'Oh shit!' He hadn't meant to say that out loud, he chuckled, giggled slightly, what else could he do?
She was neither impressed, nor disappointed by his torso, it felt good to touch, he was mostly hairless, soft, but not squishy. 'Wait… what?!' "Whoa." Her ears told her that was out loud, as did his chuckle, but the growing glow of feminine desire inside that was already heating up had gas thrown on it. It was big, maybe not the biggest, but close at least of those she had intended on taking on, and if not the biggest, it was an honorable mention, and she could probably get it to be the biggest. She grinned up at him, at a loss for words as her curious hand slid inside his waistband. Her long, slender fingers wrapped slowly around his shaft, sliding to its base as it hardened, then back to the end of the mushroom. "Bryon, hehe, very respectable!" "Why thank you Janelle, but all I have to offer is my package, you are the whole package." Her hand on his chest put a finger to his lips again. It was nearly three hand breadths, 7 inches? 8? With a strong but not painful girth. "mmmm" her eyes closed as he stroked him, thinking through everything for a moment, the fog of alcohol clearing a little, the fog of sex beginning to roll in. She slid his boxers down, the need to just attack him with desire was burning her up, but she knew she had to mind herself, not wanting to give him too much, nor scare him off before she could have… that. She kissed the tip, and then kissed the mushroom, and then the rim. Running her tongue the length of it. It wasn't getting much bigger, but harder, definitely. She ran her tongue up along that pulsing vein on the bottom of it, back to the tip, taking it into her mouth. Sucking down it, her lips enveloping it with a seal, running it along her tongue, teeth never touching as she swallowed his hot, throbbing flesh.
He moaned. He had forgotten how automatic that was, how natural it was to give voice to his pleasure. 'why do people fake that?' A fleeting thought as her mouth wrapped him in a hot paradise. Hot, wet, surrounding him. Swallowing him, swallowing him? It had been so long. He moaned again, knees buckling as he instinctively caressed the back of her head, both to steady himself and to encourage her. She began building a rhythm up and down his cock. He thrust against it, primal instinct guiding every motion, each encouraging an equal and opposite response from the other. He was in ecstasy, and just getting higher.
She was on fire, she didn't want him to cum yet, but this was driving him wild and had more than her mouth dripping. She had him hard as she bobbed up and down over his manhood. Hot pre-cum spat in her throat. She pulled off him, kissing up his body, intending to pull him to the bed, suddenly becoming aware of her corset loosening and cool flowing over her torso. He kissed her passionately. The ambition and desire displayed by Bryon surprised her some, taking the fire inside her to an aching desire that spread from the center of her femininity to her whole body. His tongue knew how to touch hers, taste hers, she could feel him undressing her, caressing her, appreciating her, and it was kind of bizarre, but oh how she loved it. Finally breaking from the kiss she looked into his eyes as the held each other, bare, naked, vulnerable.
She didn't even let probably half the guys she brought home see her like this, and it had been a few weeks since that, and a few months since she ended a long-term relationship. Yet this boy, no, this man… She shuddered and a chill ran up her spine as she gazed up into her eyes. Where a manchild had been 30 minutes ago was now a man, alive again, definitely again, he knew how to hold a woman, how to look at a woman as she believed he should. Not like a worm and not like a trophy hunter, but the words were beyond her, captivating her, captivating him. That was it! She felt as though she was captivating and it was a drug she hadn't felt in a long time. He kisses her neck, clavicle, her chest, her breast. She ran her fingers through his fiery hair. A gasp jumped from her lips as her cupped her right breast in one hand, and her left butt cheek in the other. Pleasure was beginning to emanate from her right nipple as he kissed it, tasted it, caressed it with his mouth, and then devoured it. Waves of pleasure washed over her. A soft moan demanded to be heard and report her pleasure to him. The room swayed and her knees locked. Holding him exactly as they were she pulled him towards the bed, never breaking stride he switched to the left nipple, giving in the same pleasure as the other. Her fingers shook, and an earthquake of pleasure threatened to release from inside her. She moaned again. Her legs stopped going back as they reached the bed:'thank God' she thought. He was caressing her sides as he kissed down her tight abdomen.
Her skin was so soft, pulled tight over carved muscles of womanly perfection. A thin, well kept landing strip of dark hair ran 3 inches to her slit. He wanted to taste every inch of her. Every kiss tasted better than the last. He reached the end of the landing strip and he could smell passion and desire. He didn't even remember that being possible. She sat on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs a little, and he spread them more. While she had maintained a mostly chill outward appearance he noticed her womanhood betrayed her desire as his tongue descended the runway and tasted her. She was intoxicating. The wine of her desire was more addicting than the liquor his body was still trying to burn off. He knew not to be overly ambitious here, but there was something else evading his fuzzy memory about the art of cunninglingus he couldn't quite touch, oh well. He kissed and locked sloppily over her flesh as she opened fully to him. At first she gasped and moaned in approval, a bored arm lay across her abdomen, the other hand fumbling with her labia trying to aid in access. He realized her response had not increased, but decreased. "Not your thing?" He inquired. "Nah, most guys just don't know… don't worry about it." It hit him so hard he felt like the memories would knock him over.
He took a deep breath and while she seemed to be losing interest he began kissing on her slender shins, lifting her leg he nibbled and began to tenderly suck at the bag of her leg behind her knee. Her hamstring tightened and she shifted, watching him with interest, a soft fire returning to her eyes. It was coming back to him, every kiss intentional as he pressed his lips into the inside of her thick, muscular thigh- she was clearly a runner who didn't miss leg day, and the tensing and relaxing of these muscles excited him. With every kiss he lingered longer, but his tongue never more than lightly tracing over her skin, enough for a slight taste and tease, but not enough to leave more than a slight wet spot. Kissing a few inches up her right thigh, and then a few inches up her left thigh, and then again on her right. Each time sucking more, longer, harder. As he came within just a couple inches of the top of her legs she had split wide for him, shifting had become squirming, and he grinned while kissing her, one hand massaging the bottom of her abdomen/top of her mound, his other had a finger slipping up and down between her once again slick labia. Every time he switched from one leg to the other his hands traded off too.
He had started rough but whatever he did, she didn't care, he was on point now. It wasn't a drool fest, he was clean, neat, she could tell he was enjoying her, captivated with her body. He was kissing over the side of her left labia, she moaned, loudly. She hadn't meant to, he wasn't even home yet, but the spring of pleasure was sending waves of pleasure, still slow, but washing strong over her. She almost wished he didn't didn't hold such influence and power over her at that moment, he certainly didn't act like it, but he did, he was in total control, moving with purpose, and she was beginning to lose control over herself as he nibbled on the rim of her left labia. It was in that second that he found it. The bud of her pleasure, the flower of her femininity, he was bringing her clitoris to bloom and she moaned/gasped in a short, fast burst, her right leg quivered. Then he switched sides, why? Why, why, wh-suddenly his coordinated attack was like a cheat code he'd been typing in unaware to her. He pressed and massaged at the top of her womanly slow/bottom of her abdomen with one thumb, and did the exact same with less pressure and opposite rotation on her clit. He'd hit a nerve, THE nerve. She didn't even feel him kissing on the edge of her right labia, the quiver in her right leg had risen into her thigh. She was dripping, throbbing, inside was a furnace, the spring of pleasure was a torrent threatening to drown her as he pressed into the nerve
At least he had been pressing, her clitoris still felt stimulated slightly bu-his tongue hit it as he pressed firmly against her abdomen, he was hitting her g-spot, in a wild, muffled sensation as he stimulated from outside. It wasn't as intense as direct contact, but "holy shit!" Well shit, that was out loud. As he began kissing, sucking, and caressing her clit with his tongue the quiver became a tremor in her hips.. She grabbed his hair. Looking down she was sure she was on fire as his red hair stood up from her center. He drug his tongue lightly from clit to vag and back and as he sucked down again and she pulled him against her the last bit of control she had in the world seemed to break like a spring in slow motion. She couldn't hear herself screaming expletives in pleasure, her eyes closed and still her body was processing more stimulation than she was conscious of and all of it was pleasure. The orgasm drowned her in pleasure. The man didn't stop! Worse, he had begun running his tongue in and out of her! No sooner had one orgasm settled than she began to rise into another. Her back arching, throat moaning, he moaned into her pussy, what? She couldn't think or process that, she could-the next one hit. She rode the wave, shaking hard, grinding on his face, body tightening, relaxing, tightening, spasms wringing out her muscles.
He didn't stop, he slid a finger inside her. "Oh fuck!" she cried out. His face damp with her femininely cum she suddenly pulled his hair hard, but this time away from everything. He was high on her and her spring of passion. "Bryon… she managed, in me, now." He stood, 8 inches long, 2 inches around, and standing straight out he guided it to the edge of her tunnel. "Fuck me…!" He granted her desire, she wrapped her legs around him and took him all the way in moaning. Fuck me dammit! The fuel met the fire and he began thrusting in and out of her. "Harder! Fuck!" she whimpered, he whimpered and chuckled, breath ragged, her breath lost. He saw the third wave coming across her body, but as she arched her back moaning and screaming even louder she slammed herself down on his shaft and a literal fountain burst around him as she moaned loudly. Her kegel muscles pulsing and throbbing and massaging on his cock. They were toned too. "mmmm fuck" he let out. She wouldn't let him move until she was on the decline again. But when she at last - only about 30 seconds later-began to relax again she whispered "baby I want you to fuck me hard…" he began slower but harder than before. "harderrrr" He could tell he was stretching her out some, but her body adapted, she wanted every inch. Harder! Arms wrapped around her thighs he pulled her down on him, she pushed down on him, and he thrust his cock into her pussy, slapping their bodies together.
His body was tightening, he was fully erect, his cock was throbbing. "pound me baby! She insisted. Their bodies went from slapping to thumping together. He was moaning, groaning, and she could feel an earthquake brewing across her body. Aftershocks and tremors were still spasming smaller muscles, and this wave was taking longer. She knew this was the big one. They were dripping in sweat, she was burning up, he was burning up. She was taking it all in when she realized he was pounding her and looking at her eyes and her bouncing breasts glistening in sweat, but when her eyes met his they locked. "You want me to fuck you?" "yes!" she cried out, his intensity grew. "you want me to really fuck you?!" "YES! Please baby fuck me!" He was railing her, their eyes never broke. "Cum with me!" She exclaimed between loud moans and grunts and screams. "in you?" 'Shit' she thought. They hadn't donned any protection in their wasted state. "In my mouth - gasp- but not until-gasp-I say." Primal animal sounds were echoing through the room. She felt like a volcano as she hung an arm around his neck, drawing him down and herself up. She felt like she would die, but she didn't care, if this was death she hoped to die a thousand times. He moaned and screamed, hers hit like a bomb. She forced out "now, mouth now!" As she burst around him again and body hit with explosive spasms she gasped "pill hair," opening her mouth, screaming, gagging.
He withdrew as fast and as smooth as he could, grabbed her hair as she was saying it. Their eyes were still locked, and more words were said there as. Their throats echoed divine designs of ancient beginnings. He was already cumming as he thrust to her perfect face. His cum shot across her neck, chin, and into her mouth as he pumped her face, unloading more into her. She gagged on his enormity but swallowed down his seed, moaning on it, shaking head to toe. It was all a total overstimulation of pleasure for him. For a moment he didn't hear her or himself or the cool breeze or heat of her. She sucked him dry and released him, his rod falling and slapping the inside of his thigh.
He nearly collapsed onto the bed, and she pulled herself up alongside him. They giggled, bodily fluid everywhere. The thick mixed musk of sex hung heavy in the room. "fuck" they said at the same time, and giggled again, still trembling, spasms still shaking across their body. He brushed her hair back behind her ear. They smiled at each other. She smiled, taking her hand in his, noticing how beautiful his creamy white skin was against her dark skin. He smiled, noticing how perfect and beautiful her silky mocha skin was against his pale epidermis. "Thank you." He said gratefully. "Hmm?" "for everything, just something I try to say after sex, because I appreciate you and all you did, whether anything happens after tonight or not." "You're sweet." She snuggled into him. She would run most guys off now, but she was done. They both entangled with each other amidst dripping sweat and cum, passed out as the sun's rays graced the horizon. A faint tinge of pain tugged at their hearts, but it felt good to hold someone of such caliber for the first time in a while. The morning's problems would be for the morning, so they rested in the satisfaction and post-cloital glow of each other, deep sex giving way to deep sleep.
