by Viva Fox
My need was too great to give up the fight just yet, and I decided to turn back to my empty glass for the time being, to wait and see if the situation changed to any extent. My expectations low but my hopes so high that disappointment seemed inevitable. For now, I focused every drop of energy in my weary veins on the empty glass in front of me.
I debated whether I should ask the bartender for another drink, or whether I should allow my sobriety to remain intact in the event that someone did come up to make an advance. I didn't want to be so drunk off my ass that I made some egregious misjudgment of character, and woke up in the bed with some complete and utter mistake, an additional pang of regret to add to my already expansive collection, leaving me feeling even shittier once all was said and done.
No, no I didn't want that at all...
All I needed right now was a good lay, some strong, sexy man to scoop me up and spirit me away into his bed, to plow me mercilessly back into my old self, to renew my confidence after it had been so harshly shattered by my most recent mistake; a night of unbridled, no strings passion to get me back to where I needed to be, nothing more complicated than that...
I began to grow nervous in spite of myself, however, thinking for certain that the opportunity I was seeking would continue to elude me, that I wasn't fooling anyone but myself in hoping for this, etc., etc., etc., my ability to see my own self-worth fucked over big time by the circumstances that had ended up leading me here.
I began to rotate my glass upon the surface of the table, drilling it around and around and around, staring into the melting ice from above as though hypnotized by it somehow, all the while doing the one thing in the world that I knew would make things even harder for me to withstand, beginning to ruminate on the circumstances of my life that had left me so damn unhappy to begin with.
I thought of Zach...
Christ, how my emotions fizzled and popped and stirred for that goddamn son-of-a-bitch, how I wanted to fling myself into his arms and kiss him vehemently and punch his fucking lights out all at once. And yet how I knew how any such attempts at rekindling what had been so viciously lost would only ever be in vain, how I felt certain, with every fiber of my being, that I could never trust that beautiful, lecherous bastard again no matter how long I lived.
I really thought he'd been the one...
After so many years of dating and disappointments, of searching in vain for something I'd begun to give up on ever truly finding, I had actually deluded myself into believing that I had indeed found it with Zach. That he was the man who would be different from all the other men who'd so transiently stepped into my life only to slip back out again like it was nothing at all. My existence a steady string of disappointments and promises that never ever seemed to stick.
Zach, meanwhile, not only made the sort of promises that I wanted to hear, but delivered upon them more often than not- or, well, I should say he always did for the extent we were together... There were of course many things he'd said would eventually happen that I truly believed might have come to pass at some point.
But the relationship was terminated before many of these things were brought to full fruition. So I'm not entirely sure whether to chalk such things down to outright broken promises or to give him the benefit of the doubt and show some faint shred of mercy, to assume the best and that he did, indeed, eventually plan on going through with what he told me he would.
God dammit... God dammit...
How wound up, how god damn fucking entangled I had allowed myself to become in that man. Knowing all the while that ending up hurt was inevitable, that I couldn't possibly be putting so much trust in another human being as to seem blind to the reality of human nature. Christ almighty...
How I really must have swooned for that son of a bitch. How I'd really let all sense of logic and reason fly straight out the window. How I'd really pulled the fucking wool right over my own eyes, and how I'd somehow been surprised when it inevitably came crashing down around me, as any semblance of common sense might readily have predicted it would.
I mean, fuck... The two of us had been dating for years, had gotten to know one another more thoroughly than any other person in either of our lives, or at least so I had thought... Hell, there had even been talk of the two of us getting married at some point - nothing concrete, obviously, no specific date in either of our heads or any engagement rings exchanged, nothing quite so traditional or straightforward.
But still, the two of us had formulated plans of building a damn life together, for God's sake, had mapped our futures out together under the apparently flawed assumption that the two us would be mutually present in those futures. That neither of us would just up nor disappear into the ether with scarcely a moment's notice...
And yet, here we were...
Lord God almighty, how I was kicking myself at this point in my life, how stupid I was feeling for having allowed my heart to have been played with in the manner that it had. In spite of my full knowledge that doing so was only hurting me further. I simply couldn't stop myself from ruminating on what the two of us had lost, from envisioning that sweet face of his.
His masculine features and his devilish, seductive smile, his penetrating eyes that seemed to bore into my soul any time he ventured to pay me a casual glance. His warming demeanor, the manner in which the force of his presence soothed me so greatly, could turn a bad day into a good one without any sort of effort whatsoever. How I always felt so secure and happy when I was wrapped up in that son-of-a-bitch's arms.
In spite of myself, I began to recall the last time the two of us had made love. The grinding, humping, thrusting of our entwined, sweaty bodies, pushing, pumping, squeezing, caressing, touching and exploring one another with the reverence of it being the first time every time, Each experience of the two of us fucking somehow more glorious than the last, each touch producing even more caustic sensations, each collision of flesh into flesh becoming a greater and greater shock to our systems as we rolled and wrapped and sliced our bodies to bits.
The room seeming to shrink around us as we twisted up in the sweated sheets, the force of penetration from that tremendous cock of his routinely overpowering me, pumping me so full of his love that there was no room whatsoever for anything else, and the clamping of his tight, muscular body around me so painfully sweet that I could scarcely contain myself.
Moaning at the top of my lungs, screaming into his open lips as they pecked and popped and slurped against my own, my flesh trembling from head to toe as I came like hell from the force of his love. My body braced, my spine arching from the sweaty pool of our love, and my toes curling as my sweet, sweet lover ejected himself into me, coating me with his essence, and overwhelming me thoroughly.
I recalled the splendor of the afterglow, the two of us wrapped together in the sticky, sweaty haze, kissing and licking and savoring one another, whispering sweet nothings into one another's ears, until gradually he fell off into slumber, and I followed close behind in his wake, my eyelids on the verge of closing, but my mind, somehow, remaining active, refusing, for reasons I could not explain, to conform to the wishes of my body.
I can't even explain what it was that made me do it. What gave me cause to investigate this irrational impulse? What source said irrational impulse might even have had to begin with? Call it a woman's intuition if you will, or paranoia, or me just being fucking nosy. But my nostrils began to flare as I watched him sleeping beside me, and an uneasy sense of insecurity began to overtake me without any particular cause for doing so...
I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
I crept silently over to Zach's discarded jeans, peering over my shoulder to ensure that he still remained asleep behind me. And when it was clear that that was the case, I stooped my nude, sweaty body down, and silently pulled his smartphone from the front pocket, entering his password, and unlocking the screen.
And there they were...
I scrolled through them, horrified, shocked at what I was seeing,
photo upon photo upon photo of the same naked woman having been sexted to him. Stockpiled in one continuous gallery for me to gaze upon in miserable astonishment, my reason, perhaps, for this invasion of privacy lacking to some extent, but the ends, quite clearly, justifying the means now that my deepest fears had been so unsubtly realized.
I didn't even give him a whiff of breath to explain himself...
Still snoring on the bed, I yanked the pillow out from beneath his lying, cheating head, and began to smack it repeatedly against his face. Screaming bloody murder at the little motherfucker, telling him to get the hell out, get the hell out, get the hell out, even though, of course, it was our shared apartment, and he had every bit as much right to be here as I did, the goddamn little bastard...
Things unraveled promptly after that, the two of us splitting apart a mere number of minutes after he'd just gotten his cock out of my pussy. This final cleaving apart of our flesh, I realized, perhaps the most poignant symbol imaginable for the demise of our oh-so-sweet-union, and my life, almost instantly, losing all sense of meaning whatsoever.
It had only been a couple of days since then, and I'd been staying with a friend during that period while I tried to get my bearings about me and get things sorted out to the extent I needed to. But the hours seemed to roll by with agonizing slowness, the moments going nowhere and my misery increasing as I continued to reflect on the injustices done to me.
It somehow tore me apart inside to think that he would be walking away from this affair of his with everything. Keeping the apartment to himself and already having a nice pink pussy ready and in store for him straight out of the gates. Whereas I was left destitute and heartbroken, without anything in the world to alleviate my pain at the moment, and everything, as a result, seeming completely and utterly hopeless.
In the present, I was just about ready to give up on the prospect of getting laid for the evening, when suddenly the bartender sat a drink down in front of me without me having requested it. I looked up, and melted just a little bit inside to see a face looking down at me from the other end of the bar, smiling devilishly, and his bedroom eyes gazing over at me with such clarity that it was tantamount to an impossibility for me not to realize his intentions with resounding, almost shocking definition.
He stepped over to me, and I straightened up, expecting some effort at seduction on his part, at least, but willing to settle for the bare minimum from the looks of this most savory gentleman as he ambled up close to my vicinity...
2
Mark was the man's name. That was about the extent of the information I bothered to collect about him. My head spinning slightly from tipsiness and my desires for becoming acquainted with his lordship happening to be almost purely physical in nature. I was, quite honestly, an easy sell to say the least, and before I'd known it I was in the back of a taxi with the stranger. Inhaling his beautiful face with such furious intent that I just about came close to suffocating on his flesh.
The two of us stumbled wildly into his apartment. The night spinning around us as he kicked open his front door, whisking me away into his bedroom and slamming the door shut behind us.
It was the first time in quite a while that I'd engaged in this sort of behavior to any extent whatsoever - that is, sex with a complete, total, and absolute stranger. A one night stand with a man at a bar who could have been any Dick, Joe, or Harry. An individual whose character I could not have guessed in the least, and which I did not care to guess in the least.
Turned on and wet at the pussy at the excitement of danger, of mystery, of screwing without consequences and then never seeing this man again. Putting him out of my mind in the manner that men often did to me. Using him up and them spitting him out to get on with my life, enjoying the ride all the while as I did so.
I was particularly vehement as the efforts of our one night love unfolded. Zach's betrayal had somehow unleashed something primal and lecherous inside me. A need to fuck and be fucked, to be brought within a hair's breadth of my limits and then pushed over the edge, screwed into oblivion in a night of brutal, strings-free passion.
I actually began to feel just a little bit bad for the poor son-of-a-bitch as I plied him with kisses. Tilting his head back so fiercely that I could scarcely imagine him being able to breathe as my tongue knifed toward the back of his throat, slicing so deep into this body that I came close to being inhaled. My entire anatomy so lit up with desire at this point that I was actually beginning to shiver on top of him. Christ, how long it had been, how long since I'd felt the warm, foreign embrace of a new lover, felt the taste of his lips on my own and the tingling of his sweaty, sticky flesh against mine.
I began to moan, and Mark began to ravish me, catching up at last with that which I was presently throwing at him. Doing his damnedest to match my efforts at loving by pushing his greedy hands all over me. Feeling me up and groping me through the fabric of my blouse, kneading up my tingling tits like two pliant balls of dough beneath his working fingertips.
My body, all over, reacting positively to my own sweet sluttiness at having pounced on my prey this quickly. At having jumped so abruptly into bed with this new man so shortly after things had went down the tubes with the old one. Making me feel, quite honest, like a goddamn alpha female, a real take charge kind of girl who got what she wanted, and could gain access to as much sweet cock as she so happened to desire.
Speaking of which, I began to seize at Mark's loins through the fabric of his jeans as the two of us made out. Feeling his bulge throbbing up against my fingertips and squeezing it tight in response. Honking on his horn, as it were, clamping my grip on that cock so fiercely that I thought I might rip straight through the denim. The agony of my efforts causing him to pull his lips away from me gasping, cringing, shivering all over, and his lips spreading wide into a vicious, hungry grin.
The two of us peeled one another out of our clothes, and I savored the melting of the fabric from my flesh as he stripped me down to my (ahem) bare essentials, peeling me slowly, seductively from my bra and panties and then caressing every succulent inch of my nude, writhing body. My flesh covering his own like a blanket, my tits pooling up on his chest and my wet pussy grinding up against his crotch, dry humping him. My hands, all the while, going about the process of undressing him, in order to bring about a bit more intimate of a union.
I stripped him rather forcefully to his boxers, and then whipped his cock out into the open. Satisfied immensely by its springing as it waved about readily before my eyes, fat and plump and so engorged that it stirred an immense hunger somewhere deep inside me. I crawled on top of his prone form, jutting my plump ass out toward him and mounting him in reverse, seizing a firm, almost painful grip around his erect penis to a chorus of grunts from above, and beginning to stroke him from tip to taint.
He moaned with pleasure, and I increased my pace, working up the saliva from the back of my throat and then pouring it down onto his engorged tip through my teeth, lubricating him up a bit so that as I continued to wank him it produced a sweet, wet squelching sound. He moaned enthusiastically at this, and I opened my jaws wide, sinking down upon him and preparing my throat for the worst.
My lips melted around his cock like a knife through warm butter, sinking to his base and then slurping promptly back up once again. My every movement brutish and uncivilized as I began to suck him into a rhythm, inhaling and regurgitating and twisting my tongue around his shaft and then occasionally pouring more spit onto his fat erection, the taste exquisite, and the sensations I knew I was putting in him making the humiliation of the effort more than worth the while.
Even greater, then, was my feeling when he began to reciprocate my efforts, seizing a firm handful of my ass and then leaning forward, pulling my buttocks back toward him, and planting his hot wet lips firmly upon those of my pussy. I gasped loudly, momentarily pulling my mouth from his shaft as I accustomed myself to his oral exploration. My eyelids fluttering pleasantly shut as his tongue pierced up into me, drill
ing and sliding and lashing around through every wet surface, causing it to become even wetter between the arousal and the flowing of his saliva, and the overall effect. One that was incredibly pleasant, to say the very, very least.
For some time the two of us locked ourselves in this sweet, agonizing unit, sucking up and inhaling one another's flesh with only the sweetest of kisses. Me deep throating him so hard that I nearly choked on the force of his erection, and him burying his face so deep inside my agonized, throbbing cunt that I thought he might go the whole nine yards and unbirth himself outright back up into my womb.
Finally, after his tongue had lapped its way through the floral pink folds of my femininity six ways to Sunday and left me shaking like a fucking dog. Orgasm began to ring through my body like wildfire, and I found myself unable to continue with my oral efforts as my anatomy seized up with sensation.
Every nerve ending seemed to light up exquisitely with the force of his immaculate pussy kisses, and I felt as though I might just become absorbed into the man. Dissolved as a part of him as my ears rang and my body shook and my ass clenched with the splendor of utmost climax. My heart beating like a drum and the ceiling seeming to spin around me with such perverse speed that it made me fucking dizzy.
