Friday, August 27, 2004

A strikeout and a grand slam

Friday, August 20. 9:30pm. I get dressed (black pants, grey shirt), spray on too much cologne and head to T.G.I. Fridays.

Jenny is at a table by the bar with three attactive brunettes in their late 20's. She is holding a hiball glass.

I walk up behind her, grab the glass and take a sip. It's a Black Russian.

She turns around. "STEEEEEEEEVE!" She hugs me as if trying to ward off frostbite. She pulls back and stares at my face. She is drunk. "You made it!" she announces.

"You guys! This is Steve! That's Deb, and Patty, and Linda," she says, poking each girl's shoulder in turn.

"So THIS is Steve!" Deb says. "Jenn won't shut up about you," she says. "Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!"

"He IS cute, though," Patty says, smiling.

OK, is anybody sober here?

"Jenn is totally in lust with you. She needs HELP," Deb says.

"DEB!" Jenn says. "Steve, we're going for a walk." She takes my hand and pulls me out the door.

Thanks, Deb. You just saved me the 45 minutes of conversation it usually takes to get to this point!

Jenn pulls me out the door and across the parking lot to a strip mall. We stroll down the covered walkway, still holding hands, perusing the dimly lit storefront windows with their back-to-school-clad mannequins. A light breeze blows, wafting the flowery scent of her hair to me every now and again.

"My friends can be such asses," she says, finally.

"Still, it's good to know you're in lust with me."

"I didn't say 'lust'," she says.

"Uh-huh." I stop and look at her. She gazes ruefully up at me, like a little girl about to be punished. I kiss her.

Jenn is a really good kisser. Her lips barely touch you, almost like she's trying to tickle you. And the very tip of her tongue slips into your mouth, then disappears, then comes back, teasing you mercilessly.

Minutes go by. The kissing esclates. The smacking gets louder, the tongues go deeper, the hands pull tighter.

We stop and hug for a minute. She pulls away and presses her lips to me again, harder now. "Mmmmmmmmmm," she says. She is getting horny.

I reach up and let my hand brush against her tit. It's easy to be too aggressive here; guys, make that first tit-grab look like it was an accident. Don't go honking her horns too hard right away. Remember, you're not milking a cow here, gang...

She doesn't move, doesn't react. This is exactly what I want in this situation. If I get this far without the girl stopping me, it usually means I am getting laid.

I am always telling you guys to try to get the girl away from the party, or the bar, or wherever the crowd happens to be, and now you can see why: No chick is going to play THIS kind of tonsil hockey in front of other people. But now that Jenny is, all I have to do is get her home and this is a done deal. I think.

If I have my 'druthers, I always screw a girl at HER house. You all know how I HATE waking up with a chick next to me; also, if it's not someone you are interested in long-term, or if you aren't sure what the HELL she is going to look like in the morning, it's much better this way. When you're at her house, you can basically get up and haul ass out of there anytime you want, and you're almost assured she won't try to follow you.

But Jenn is not offering, at least not yet, and I am so frigging horny that it's ridiculous. How long has it been for me, a week? We are both running very warm. It's time to go for broke.

"Let's get outta here," I say, in between kisses.


"Let's go to your house," I say.

She pulls away from me and shakes her head NO. "Next time, Steve."

Yeah, next time. My blue balls don't like that answer.


Saturday, August 21st. I cranked out two after coming home from Friday's last night, and another one this morning, and I still feel as though I'm about to burst.

Lila has made arrangements to come over around 4 today and stay overnight. Her mother thinks she is staying over at a friend's house.

I pick up Lila at her house. She is wearing torn jeans and a scarf around her hair.

She plops herself into my car. "It's been WAY too long," she says.

"I know. I am fucking DYING," I say.

"Are we gonna make it to your house," she asks.

"Barely. But I want to," I say. "This car is too small."

"I have a surprise for you," she says.

My tires scream to a halt in the driveway. We dash through the front door, pulling our clothes off as if they were on fire. She is bent over, lowering her panties, when I pick her up and sling her over my shoulder.

I carry her to the bedroom and flip her down on the bed. I had forgotten how tight her body looks naked. I am desperately, urgently hard.

She fingers herself. "Do you like your present," she says, pulling her hand away.

She is totally shaved.

She licks her fingers and runs them over her bald pussy. I grab her feet and pull them apart, slowly, rubbing the back of my cock against her. It's completely smooth - like jerking off with a silk pillow.

I kiss her. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer, shoving her tongue into my mouth. She pulls away from me, just slightly; we are still nose to nose.

"Steve, I want you to fuck my brains out."

I look down and watch as my shaft slips effortlessly into her. Our hips move in perfect unison, together, apart, together, apart. I watch in horny fascination as the hairless flesh of her vagina stretches against my girth while I penetrate her.

"Oh my god, lover, oh you are sooo fucking good, I love you so much, I missed you..."

"Oh yeah?" I breathe.

"I missed having your big hard cock inside me," she says.

I'm thrusting harder now. She crosses her ankles behind my back. Her tits bounce in perfect rhythm with our fucking.

When I am this horny, I usually have a lot less control over my orgasms. But whacking it earlier today seems to have done the trick.

I pull out and flip her over onto her back. Her round, perfect ass sticks up at me, smooth and pale white.

I pull her hips toward me. I take my cock in my hand and slide it up underneath her, slowly searching for her opening. I grab her hips, driving deeply into her.

"Hooooooooooly fucking shit," she moans. She stands up on her knees, turning around and kissing me. She misses my mouth, mostly, her wet lips coating my cheek and nose with warm spit. I'll take that over a kiss any day.

She collapses down on the bed, her naked ass still in the air. I pull out of her and release the full force of my orgasm, spraying her back with thick white cum.

I lay down next to Lila for a long time. We fall asleep.

When I wake up again, it's dark outside. I look at my clock. 8:30. We've been asleep for hours. It's strange to say, but I was glad to see her next to me. So much for her making me dinner, though.

We pick up some Chinese takeout for dinner, and laugh all the way home at the guy's accent "Just a rittle ronger," he had said when we arrived early.

We take the long way home, and I show her some houses that I like to look at, places that had given me ideas for my own house. I show her the old cemetery ("I'm sure it's beautiful during the day, but it's creepy at night," she says). We eat our sweet and sour chicken in front of the TV, swordfighting with chopsticks and laughing at Seinfeld reruns.

I wake up the next morning with Lila curled up in a little ball next to me, like a cat. I tiptoe out the front door and jog my appointed rounds. When I return, she is still dozing, her hair sprayed crazily around her, her feet clad in half-length socks.

I sit next to her and run my finger along her cheek. Her eyes blink open, and she takes my hand. "Hey," she says, in her scratchy morning voice.

What was it, again, that was so bad about waking up next to a chick?