by Sasha Grey
Groupies or wannabes. This party’s met its quota for both.
A lithe blonde tosses her hair and rubs her fake boobs against the director’s arm oh-so-casually. “People said my portrayal of hemorrhoids was so believable it made them uncomfortable to watch.”
I bet it did. Sometimes I think desperation impairs one’s thinking.
A curvy brunette steps forward and shakes his hand, though the gesture is surprisingly formal for people who have already been talking for a few minutes. “I was prominently featured in a commercial for IBS. It got national coverage.”
While that would pay the bills like any other job, I’m not seeing how that would translate to the sexy vibe most music videos try to cultivate. They sell sex and sex appeal, and yeah, people catch things if they’re not careful. STDs are becoming more and more common, but if you’re the face of a genital herpes medication, that’s a raging conflict of interest.
I turn to remark upon it to Jacob, but he’s gone again. Probably to do another line in the bathroom. The body heat I felt beside me and thought was my date is actually a woman facing away from me, listening to a man talk about his new Maybach. Humble bragging is the worst. Either be proud of your possessions and accomplishment or be an insufferable braggart. Pretending to not be showing off wastes everyone’s time when we all know you just want compliments and praise and attention. I’m sure he doesn’t even have a driver and doesn’t even know that the only purpose of that car is to have a proper chauffeur.
Sometimes I get the urge to find a group of people and say really random shit just to see who pays attention. Maybe something along the lines of, “I like to bite my toenails with my teeth. Sometimes my cat likes to eat the clippings.” Sadly, in this town, people would probably think it was a new diet craze and say they’ve already done it. More likely it would be their personal trainer, or their cousin or friend who was the “expert.” Everyone knows someone who’s done the exact thing you’re talking about, regardless of how inane our outlandish it is. Maybe it’s the way they try to relate to other people.
It gets old fast.
I wander to another room and lean against the wall near two people obviously itching to get out of here to fuck, but getting through the preliminary “getting to know you” flirting. I say flirting, but they’re pretty personal already.
She runs her fingers through her hair. “I also miss not worrying about STDs and being completely fulfilled, turned on, and proud whenever he’d come to completion and blow his load all over me and inside of me. We should have broken up before the first date, though.”
The guy nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, nothing is hotter than making my girl come. I enjoy it just as much as my own pleasure. There’s no self-esteem boost better than making a woman come all over my face or cock, especially when her moans get louder and faster and her muscles start spazzing. So hot.”
“How do you keep going and not blow your load while she’s coming on your dick?”
He shrugs. “Marijuana. Thinking about 9/11 now and then. Usually can last an hour.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s too long. Forty-five minutes is good. Twenty is fine, too.”
He backpedals. “Agreed. But I can do it if need be! I can pretty much come whenever during sex. Mostly psychological.”
Wow, and they say romance is dead.
She leans in, swaying a little. “I want to know if boning you on the actual 9/11 anniversary means you’re extra hard for extra long.”
He winks. “You could wait a couple months and find out for yourself.”
Never forget.
I can’t believe my date brought—and left—me here. He probably won’t even notice the fact that I’ve left since he cares about one thing only tonight. Screw this, I’m out. Even if he rallied and came back more charming than ever, I’m not eager for the taste of his postnasal drip on my tongue from his goodnight kiss. I root around in my purse to grab my phone and order a rideshare when a stranger leaning against the wall by the front door catches my eye.
His dark blond curls give him an almost cherubic air, but the look in his eyes cancels it out, confidence bordering arrogance, and a smirk that makes promises my body decides it wants him to keep. I’d say he’s a few years older than me, but something about his demeanor screams experience.
He’s a man in a house filled with dudes, and it’s very appealing.
I sip from my cup, painfully aware how hard it is to seem cool and sophisticated while drinking from red plastic.
He prowls over to me, directly, confidently, saying with his body “I noticed you, you noticed me, let’s not play coy.” He holds out his hand and I take it, noting the firm grip. “I’m Dominick. Nice to meet you.”
“Catherine,” I reply.
“Your date must be an idiot, leaving you all alone in a place like this.”
I smile, not wanting to insult my date, but charity only goes so far. “I think he’s in the bathroom.”
Dominick inclines his head, getting it. “Then he’s even dumber to waste your time while he does that shit. Your boyfriend?”
I shake my head.
He grins. “Want to get out of here?”
I contemplate leaving my date without even saying goodbye. In Seconds, a John Frankenheimer movie, there’s a really great line I like that someone says to Rock Hudson after he awakes with his new face, having been given a second chance in life: “You are alone in the world, absolved of all responsibility, except your own interest.”
That’s exactly how I feel right now. For a while, I’ve been alone in the world, drifting aimlessly. We’re all ultimately alone, despite the connections we make along the way to other people. And while the statement seems like it’s giving permission for a free-for- all, it’s really not encouraging you to hurt others. See, if we’re at our happiest—psychopaths aside—we’re good people. Doing things for ourselves that make us our highest form, our very best, only makes the world a better place. Sort of like Transcendental Meditation in a way, I suppose, but we can justify any choice with self-serving reasons if we try hard enough.
Would Jacob truly be sad if I went home with Dominick? Maybe. But I doubt it, and the way he was treating me wasn’t respectful, what with the lack of care about me tonight, bringing me to a boring party like this and then disappearing. Anything could have happened.
Well.
I follow Dominick outside.
Something is going to happen when Dominick drops me off at home. I’ll make sure of that.
THREE
HE PULLS MY HAIR OUT of the way and kisses the back of my neck before I can get my key into the lock of my apartment door.
Turned on before I can turn the key.
His hands are on me before I can react, caressing the dip in my waist, the outside of my thigh, my shoulder. With the care of someone who knows a woman’s body is made up of erogenous zones that don’t involve the main five (breasts, vagina, ass, inner thighs, neck), he uses his fingers to slowly ignite the fuses of my body.
I’m wet before he spins me around and presses hard against me, kissing me slowly and deeply. Like he’s savoring the way I taste, his tongue tangles with mine, plunging deep inside my mouth which makes me think of his cock plunging deep inside other places.
Hard door at my back, hard man at my front. I’m soaking wet, ripe for the plucking like fruit, waiting, swollen with juices.
I want him to squeeze me and make me drip all over him.
He reaches beside my ear and then I’m tumbling through the door he’s opened, falling backwards but he catches me in his arms and kicks the door closed behind us with a loud bang. It’s so protective and male it makes me want to swoon and squeal and give the neighbors another loud bang to complain about.
Dominick’s hands roam all over, conquering instead of waiting for an invitation. Tentative lovers annoy me. Sometimes I just want to be taken by someone who knows exactly what the fuck they’re doing without me having to draw them a map and explain a woman’s
anatomy.
He presses me against the wall and slides a hand up my shirt, undoing my bra and jerking it away like it offends him that it touches my skin. His hand is rough on my breast, and I gasp into his mouth when he squeezes it, pinching at the nipple. He rocks his hips against mine, letting me feel the hard length between us.
“What do you need?”
“I need to get fucked so hard. I haven’t been properly fucked with a dick I loved and couldn’t get enough of since my ex-boyfriend’s, one year and four partners ago.”
He grins. “What did you like about it?”
His hands on my body are driving me wild. “It had a slight upward curve that would reach my G-spot and was the first and only that could make me orgasm vaginally while fucking. It was a little too long for sex and hurt often for a long time. But then I got used to it and I even handled him fucking me with an inhumanly huge dildo in the later years, when we were bored of each other and didn’t want to face the reality that we were incompatible and not really in love. And of course he could stay hard for a long time and I knew that I’d have a reliable ride.”
He nips the skin of my neck between his teeth and I yelp, so turned on.
“I’ll give you a ride you’ll never forget,” he growls.
I grab his ass and pull him closer, locking him against me so I can grind that cock where it’s making me ache, but I want to feel his skin too, so I tear at his black button-down, frantic with hunger for his body heat.
He’s muscular but lean, with a tattoo swirling across his ribs and up his chest, down his left arm, but I can’t see what it is exactly because he pulls my shirt over my head and leaves it partway on, a makeshift blindfold and restraint. He’s got my hands pinned above my head.
“Where does Catherine want it?” His breath is warm against my lips and I lean forward to kiss him, but he avoids it, wanting an answer.
“Right here…pinned against the wall.”
He chuckles and I wish I could see the look in his eyes because the huskiness in his voice makes my wetness drip down my thighs.
“No. I meant where do you want my cock, but I like your answer very much. I’m going to remove my hands. You will keep yours against the fucking wall. Yes?”
I nod, a smile stretching my lips. It’s been forever since someone bossed me around like this. My nipples tingle in anticipation for what he’s going to do next. Part of me wants to know, but I’d rather not spoil the surprise, so I keep my hands up, glad to hear the tearing of a condom wrapper. Pleasure second, safety first.
He strips me from the waist down and I shiver, waiting for the blanket of pleasure he’s going to put on me.
“Last chance to give me your input before I start.”
I bite my lip. “Do I need a safeword?”
His teeth graze my neck. “Do you?”
Sometimes you just know a person, even when you’ve just met. I know Dominick likes sex the same way I do and that he’d never hurt me unless I wanted him to. So I shake my head. “You know what to do, don’t you?”
His fingers deftly probe my drenched pussy and my breath catches at that movement. Right there. That one he does with a hooked finger that makes me want to follow him around while he makes come-hither motions inside me until my legs give out or we get to Alaska. “Yes, Catherine. I do know what to do.”
I want him to fuck me now, pound as hard as he can inside me, but he removes his hand and spins me around, ass bare and out, posture the same as if he was frisking me.
Is that where the saying “getting frisky” comes from?
He spreads my ass cheeks apart and starts lapping at my asshole with his tongue, the unfamiliar sensation warm and dirty and so fucking hot I spread wider to give him more access.
I’ll look up the etymology later.
His tongue swirls around and around and he pulls back, but replaces his mouth with a finger. “Has anyone ever eaten your asshole before?”
“If they had, it was a lick or two, nothing like this.”
“Do you want me to fuck your ass?” He sucks a little at the skin again, and my knees weaken ever so slightly.
“Does anyone ever say no to you?”
“Not for a very long time. Most people like what I can do to them.” I lick my lips. “Then do whatever you want, Dominick.” It’s a bold invitation, but I know he’d stop the instant I told him to.
My lips are sealed.
He grasps my hips and tugs me out a little farther from the wall and then his cock is pushing inside me, but not in my ass like I was expecting. He’s inserting himself into my pussy and he’s got a large lollipop-cock, judging by the feel of the head going in. The shaft is girthy but the head is a little extra big, making it a tight fit.
That first thrust is always the best, especially when it’s been a while. Especially when it’s with someone worthwhile. He goes slow and deep, all the way in until he’s nudging my cervix where he holds steady, giving me a minute to stretch and get used to his size. One hand reaches around to gently massage my clit, the other trails up to knead one of my breasts. I push back against him and then he starts fucking me in earnest.
With every thrust, his balls smack against my clit with a wet, meaty sound and it feels like someone lightly slapping it. I like it.
He slides one hand down the back of my neck and gathers my hair as he slowly pulls out of me, pushes back in, settling between my legs like he’s in for the duration. I’m not sure what it is, strawberry maybe, but as the friction between us grows, the condom smells rubbery and sweet as though it’s fruit that’s ripening with my juices. He fists the hand that’s holding my hair, sending a small, sharp tug of pain through my scalp.
I’m desperate for more, wishing for something to suck on because the primal way he’s fucking me is too much and not enough and it turns me into a perfect beast in kind, made with the sole purpose of mindless fucking except I’m hyper-aware of everything going on and giving it my all with everything I’ve got. I want this to be as good for him as it is for me right now, and I circle my hips, making a nice, tight infinity pattern with them that pulls at his cock, making it rub new places inside me. He sucks in air through his front teeth. Perfect.
I can feel my orgasm building up inside like a goddamn symphony. Dominick shifts his weight and I’m going to come so hard I almost want to move so it doesn’t feel quite so good so I can draw it out, slower, savor it longer, but it’s like holding back a tsunami.
I lick my upper lip, tasting the saltiness of sweat and the remnants of my lipstick.
So good.
I shudder, my hips buck, and my limbs shake with the release and the sheer size of him inside me. My walls clamp down on him as he continues thrusting in and out of me, drawing more of my come out, spreading it around, making skin slide against skin. No lube feels as good as this. No lube comes close to feeling the way a woman’s true attraction for her partner can coat them both, making sex so good for both of them.
Maybe a man’s come, thick spurts of wet heat. The thought shatters me in the best ways as his hot breath puffs against my neck and I suddenly need to suck his cock.
I need to thank him for getting me out of that lame party.
I push him away and spin around, dropping to my knees and looking him in the eyes as I take his cock in my hands. His gaze sort of sharpens with interest when I peel off the condom and toss it away, guiding his cock towards my mouth. I slide my hand around between my legs before running it up and down the shaft of his penis a few times, coating him, making his cock slick with my juices.
He smiles and his pupils grow to the size of dinner plates, but he patiently waits.
I line him up but put his head near my cheek and I lick up the seam of his balls, leaving a trail of saliva. More natural lube. He nudges my lips with the tip of his cock and I softly swirl my tongue around the little hole, covering my lips with spit and he pushes a little deeper, advancing along my tongue as I flick it back and forth beneath the shaft, giving a suck to increa
se friction with a vacuum.
He splays his hands above my head on the wall, bracing himself so he can relax and enjoy the things I’m doing to him with my mouth. I let his cock come out of my mouth with a little pop and I lick his balls, one and then the other. He groans when I gently suck them both into my mouth, cradling them more than working them, letting him feel the heat of my tongue seeping into his skin. Balls are so damn delicate. Some men get squirrelly about partners touching them.
Not Dominick.
I swirl my tongue around them, then work my way from the base of his cock to the tip, up and up and up like I can’t get enough of his soft-serve cone. I want him to melt on my tongue like it’s summer, and I lick all around the big head and suck him deep again.
He shoves his cock so deep I can barely breathe, and I gag but keep going. I’m getting wetter, but I already had my turn.
I take what he gives, gripping his hips when he holds my head steady and fucks my mouth with shallow, frantic movements. I want him to come on my face, something I’ve never really wanted before or seen the appeal of, but I want his hot load in my mouth, to swallow it and have part of him inside me after he’s left my apartment because there’s no way in hell I’m letting him spend the night.
He bursts inside me, coating the surface of my tongue with a hot, salty tang, almost nutty and sweet, his body freezing as though all movement has been switched off except for his twitching cock.
He doesn’t even breathe.
I let him slip from my lips when he inhales again.
We’re on my balcony, Dominick having a smoke before he leaves, me keeping him company when he turns to me. “Tell me something personal about yourself.”
Because I don’t really expect to see him again, I tell the truth. “Recently I’ve wondered how different life would be if I were more attractive and better-looking.”
