The Other Man

I wanted skin on skin, but we never got that far.

He stripped me bare from the waist down, shoved his jeans down just far enough to free his big eager cock, crammed a condom on, and started working me onto his bucking shaft.

I got loud right away.  Even when his mouth covered mine, I couldn’t keep quiet.

I heard the dog somewhere in the house, moving around with his big clumsy paws, getting close enough to us for Heath to pause and bark, “’Tato, out!”

As if the dog understood him, as though Heath ran the place, my huge Great Dane went scrambling loudly through the house, out his doggy door, and into the backyard.

I circled my hips, moaning into Heath’s mouth.  He was still pushing in, but not fast enough.

His free hand gripped my hip hard and thrusting his tongue in my mouth, he shoved home.

I had one leg hooked high over his hip, but it wasn’t enough.  He pulled out, ignoring my loud protests.

I didn’t protest for long.  He turned me, pressing my palms against the door.  He spread my legs, grabbed my hips in both hands, lifted me to just the right angle, and started drilling me from behind.

His rough breaths panted into my ear with every thrust.

Neither of us lasted long.

He hit every perfect nerve going in and out, in and out.

My orgasm built like it had its own pulsing life, beating into me with each rough thrust, growing with each hard slam of his dick into my pussy.

My nails scraped against the door as I came.

He shoved home, to the root, and held himself there.  After a few beats, still twitching inside me, his hands went from my hips to the front buttons of my shirt, tugging it open, sending buttons flying with a few impatient tugs.  He unclasped my bra, not breaking it, at least, and palmed my tits.

He kept thrusting, in smaller movements, still milking himself into me, still coming in perceivable spurts.

I wanted to sob in pleasure, it felt so good, barely stifled the sob-like noises that were coming out of me.

He kneaded my breasts, leaning close at my back to speak into my ear.  “I need to go,” he rasped, nuzzling into my neck.  “Now.”

What the fuck? I thought.  He was the one that came to my house.  He couldn’t spend more than a few minutes here before he ran off?

And on the tail of that . . . Was I so spoiled from the last time that I just assumed he’d stay for more than one round?

“Okay,” I responded with what little breath I had.  What else could I say?  I wasn’t going to beg him to stay.

And still, he didn’t pull out, still making those delicious little movements inside of me, still breathing on my neck, his body against my back, my sensitive breasts still in his hands.

At least I was sure he didn’t want to leave.  It was something.

With a curse, he pulled away.

I went immediately for my discarded pants, not looking at him as he went into my nearby half-bath and started straightening his clothes.  He was fast, I noted, listening to his every move.

He didn’t even say goodbye, the asshole.

While I was turned around, still fumbling to re-clasp my bra, he walked out the door.

I didn’t move to the front window to watch him go, though it was tempting.

Instead, I moved into the half-bath, eyes on the discarded condom in the wastebasket that I’d need to take out right away, like right away.  I’d be mortified if either of my boys stopped by out of the blue and caught sight of that.

Geez, I thought, staring at it.  It was just so sordid, one big used condom in my spotless, feminine half bath.  The room was painted apricot, and there were flowers on the rug, for Christ’s sake.

I gave myself a good talking to, eyes on the condom.  I nearly had myself convinced, body still thrumming in a strange combo of desire, disgust, and a delicious sort of soreness that made me think of Heath every time I shifted my body.

This wasn’t me.

I couldn’t change myself, the things I wanted, what I thought was right and wrong, just for one man.  One too young man who apparently couldn’t spare more than a few minutes out of his too busy schedule to fuck my brains out.

The pep talk/self-lecture was good for me, or so I thought.  This sort of thing wasn’t my cup of tea.  It was too casual.  The man hadn’t even asked me how my day was going before he shoved his cock into me.

And I hadn’t gotten to look at his eyes as he came, when they did that extraordinary thing I loved.

It occurred to me then that this made a huge difference to me.  Physical relief, no matter how powerful, was not enough for me.  Watching what I did to him, how I made his eyes change from cold to that elusive something else was required, as well, for me to feel that this passing fling was worth my peace of mind.

All of the productive work I had planned for the afternoon seemed to fly out the window.  There was nothing to do for it but open a bottle of wine and call one of my girlfriends to talk it out.  It was one of the biggest perks of being self-employed.

“He didn’t even say goodbye after?  Just walked out?” Danika’s voice over the phone was clearly appalled.

“Just walked out,” I affirmed.

“What an asshole,” she muttered.  “I’m coming over.  Tristan is working, and I’m only a few minutes away from you.  Should I bring more wine?”

“I’m well stocked,” I said wryly.  I liked my wine.

She showed up not five minutes later, still dressed for work.  I must have caught her just as she got home.  I knew she was like me, and changed into something comfortable the second she got into her own home.