The Heartbreak Cure

My friend Roz is an evil bitch. I say 'friend' but she's not really. I mean, everyone knows Roz -- or knows about her. She's attractive, smart, witty and -- quirky? Weird? In our teens she always had strange and different ideas. If everyone else was doing it, Roz wasn't interested. It had to be new, exciting, bizarre. I'd lost touch with her while I was away at college. When I came back down I was at the start of a serious relationship, and you know how that takes over your life so much you let friendships slide. Also, I'd made a couple of really close friends -- the ones you turn to when a boyfriend dumps you. You cry on their shoulders, get through several boxes of Kleenex, and then they pick you off the floor and take you out for a really wild girls night out so you can get the rat out of your system. The kind of friends every girl needs.

So Jade and Miranda were now my intimate friends. And they're the ones who picked me up when a few years later John trashed our relationship. I came home early one afternoon and found him in bed with that slut Sharon from work. I slapped his face, hard enough to see a red welt. He deserved it, the shit. I only wish I'd done the same to her. I kicked him out -- then went round to Miranda's and bawled my eyes out.

It took me a long time to get over that. It's never easy, but I'd really thought John and I would last. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. At least I thought so: John clearly had other ideas. With the help of friends I gradually picked myself up over the months. Heartbreak always feels like the end of the world, but somehow we survive. The pain lessens, the wounds heal, and you start feeling less like killing yourself or killing him (always a tough choice, that.) I started to feel alive again. Not fabulously, brilliantly alive, but something a bit warmer than a corpse. Alive enough to start feeling again, even if that was mostly feeling ugly and unlovable. Jade and Miranda pressed me to start dating, but I simply couldn't face it. My heart still felt too battered. What I never understand, though, is how your heart can feel bruised yet you start feeling hot. For goodness sake, what is that about? Your pussy says she's hungry and your heart says no way. That confuses the hell out of me.

So there I was one night, lying on the sofa trying to resolve this dilemma. My pussy demanding some action, my heart refusing point-blank to even look at a man again. Several boxes of chocolate had failed to bring peace. The phone rang: Roz. It was a long conversation, mostly one-sided, with me pouring out my heart. Roz listened and made sympathetic noises. When I explained my current dilemma she interrupted.

"So let me get his right. You want sex but you can't face the thought of getting involved with a man just now,? Your heart can't even bear the idea of a one-nighter just in case you fall for him. And in any case, even that would involve going out, meeting someone, being friendly and so on -- and you're not sure you can manage that. Is that the picture?"

"Pretty much," I sighed. "Hopeless, eh?"

"Oh no, Sheri, I know just what you need. I was actually planning a special soiree, and I think it would be absolutely perfect for you..."

I listened as she explained. The whole crazy notion sent a thousand thoughts and feelings whirling through my head. It was stupid, mad, totally outrageous and obscene, but, god, it was exciting, thrilling and (admit it, girl) absolutely perfect. It was too good to miss. But... no, I couldn't. Could I? My heart and pussy started arguing: yes-no-yes-no-yes-no. I was so sick of this.

"I'm in," I found myself saying.

Three weeks later I wobbled on jelly legs up to Roz's front door. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely press the doorbell. I felt sick. Now would be a good time to turn and run, I thought. Somehow my wavering finger pressed the bell. Roz opened the door in red silk dress, looking bewitching. A heady perfume wafted through.

"Hi, Sheri," she kissed me on the cheek. "Come on in and meet the others. They're all here."

She led me into the kitchen and introduced me to five other women. I quickly scanned the other faces. No-one, I knew, thank god. Five other women, all looking as nervous as I felt. Apart from one, who looked bright and confident. Bravado, I thought to myself. Someone handed me a glass of red wine. I gulped it down and helped myself to a refill. Judging by the bottles, I was not the only one needing a drink.

"So... " began Roz with a long outbreath, "So here we are for the night's adventures. Everyone ready and eager?"

There were some nervous giggles, a few nodded heads, and everyone took another glug of wine.

"I'll just go through everything again. There are six of you, and upstairs waiting are six guys. They're all young and fit. I've checked them out myself. " She chuckled throatily. "Oh, and they've all had recent clean tests."

"The room will very dimly lit. All of you -- men and women -- will be wearing nothing but eyemasks. And it's a strict rule of the evening that they remain on all the time. They won't black out everything, you'll be able to see rough shapes and outlines, but not enough to see detail. Just enough to find the drinks and dishes of condoms. But not enough to see what the guys really look like. So you find the one you want only by touch and taste and smell. You won't be able to use physical attractiveness to decide. Your normal judgement is suspended. You'll have to rely purely on animal instincts."

Roz paused and looked round at us slowly. "In a minute I'll take you upstairs, show you where to undress, give you your masks, then take you into the men. Any questions before we go?"

I was too numb with anxiety to think. Or was it the wine? How many glasses had I had? There was part of me that was shocked that I was doing this. And another, stronger, part that was excited. There was a tingling in my stomach. I was very aware of my breasts and the growing ache between my legs.

She led us upstairs into a small room where we undressed and donned our masks. There were no nervous giggles now, just unbearable tension. Finally, she carefully ushered us into a darkened room. "Gentlemen, " she announced "Please welcome your partners." The door closed with a soft and awful finality.

The room was warm and dark, and I could see nothing. A deep and sensuous perfume filled the air. I breathed it in, filling my nose with exotic fragrance. The darkness resolved slightly, and I thought I could see dim shapes across the room.

The six of us had stayed close to the door, but now in unspoken accord we hesitantly moved into the body of the room. Dark outlines approached to meet us.

Bare flesh touched my arm, and I startled. My heart began to pound. Blood rushed to my head. I took a few quiet deep breaths and calmed myself. More touches came. I brushed arms, backs. My hand reached out tentatively and met a thicket of chest hair. Thick, curly. I slowly ran my fingers through it. A hand lightly brushed the name of my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine. A finger trailed up my side. I moved on. I walked into a wall. No -- it was a back, the back of very big man. I pressed up close and reached my arms around. Ran my hands up well-formed abs. Starting to feel more confident, my fingers searched out his nipples and began to circle them slowly. A murmur of enjoyment welcomed me, and his buttocks pushed back into my belly. Then he was gone.

Another bump. Shoulder to shoulder we met -- and something like a flash of recognition shot through me. Was this the one? I turned, and soft hands cupped my face. The hands moved slowly down, fingertips gently trailing across my shoulders. I moved in closer. My breasts pressed into his chest. My own hands explored. I stroked down his back, found hard buttocks and squeezed. His hands were stroking the sides of my breasts and my nipples started to grow hard. My body liked this one. I was emboldened and reached down. I grasped a lovely firm cock, and heard him gasp with pleasure. I held him closer, licked his skin and breathed in his scent. What did he smell of? Everything and nothing. Yes, I could smell his man-scent and a very light cologne. It was lovely, but in a normal way. You know how everywhere has its own. Your own home doesn't have a distinct smell -- because that's where you belong. This man was like that. His scent was one that belonged.

The next thing I knew we were lying on soft cushions, kissing deeply. His breath was an intoxication of red wine, with a distant tang of mint. We kissed while our hands, stroked, caressed and explored our sinuous bodies. All my anxiety evaporated and I allowed myself to simply relax into this man, give myself over to delicious surrender. His lips moved to my neck, shoulders, breasts. His hands were teasing my thighs, stroking slowly up and up, then down again. I parted my legs, wanting him to explore higher, to find my dampness. Each time he went slightly higher before stopping. My pussy started to ache, to long for connection. My hips started squirming, trying to encourage him. Finally -- oh finally -- he was rubbing my pussy lips, spiralling round them. I could feel my desire growing stronger and stronger. And he was making me wait, building me up with his deliberate slowness. My clit ached to feel his touch; my pussy was wet and hot, and she longed to feel his fingers inside. The touches grew firmer, and his kisses more passionate. At last a finger brushed my clit and I moaned with desire. Another finger circled the entrance -- god, I was so wet. Around and around my clit he went. God, how did he know how to touch me just right without being told? The right place, the right pressure -- so perfect. My hips were rocking, and my breathing became faster, and I could feel it all building up higher and higher. And the orgasm burst through me. I clamped my thighs around his hand, buried my face into his chest as my whole body electrified.

And while I was still recovering, he slipped out of my arms. He trailed kisses down my breasts, down my belly and his head moved between my thighs. I still felt too sensitive, but was to weak to protest. And he knew what to do. Softly and gently his tongue explored me. I could hear him inhale my scent, felt him taste my juices. His tongue was slow and insistent. A lick here, a flick there. I felt I should pleasure him, but I was simply transfixed. I couldn't think. I had no control over my body -- it was just carried away, transported by what he doing to me. I tried to reach down to him, but at that moment his tongue started rapidly flicking my clit and I lost control and now I was coming again and again and again...

I snuggled into his chest, warm and safe and content. Little quivers continued to course through my body. My heart stopped pounding, my breathing returned to normal. Now it was my turn.

I explored every inch of his body with my lips. Butterfly-soft kisses alternated with playful nips. My hands teased his nipples, stroked and scratched his skin. I loved hearing his moans of pleasure switch into yelps of surprised delight. I moved further down. I took one of his balls in my mouth and sucked with infinite tenderness. He groaned softly. Then I used my tongue to draw circles on his perineum, and was rewarded with little moans of pleasure. I reached up and held his cock. It was hot and throbbing. I squeezed gently and felt wetness trickle down. I gave one long slow lick up the shaft. He gasped when I rolled my tongue around the head. Very slowly I took him into my mouth. He whimpered slightly. Yes, I know, he wanted me to take him deep -- but now it was my turn to tease. I was going to do this until he was begging me. I did everything. Flicking the head with my tongue, then quickly plunging his full length into my mouth -- no hands, just mouth taking it all. Then stopping, and secretly delighting in his sighs of dismay. His breathing became faster, his hips started bucking, and I knew I had teased long enough. I moistened a finger and slipped it underneath him and into his anus. I took his cock fully into my mouth. As his cock slid in and out, so did my finger. I could hear him panting yes-yes-yes, and his hips were bucking up to meet me. His cock was so hot and swollen, yet somehow seemed to swell even more. Finally he gave a great yell and his cock exploded, great jets of sweet, salty come burst into my mouth. Again and again he shot into my mouth until he at last groaned deeply, shuddered and relaxed. I swallowed it all. I even enjoyed the taste. I really liked this man.

That wasn't the end, not by a long way. It was a night of total bliss. I don't know how many more times I came and he came. We simply fucked ourselves to exhaustion. At one point, just before I fell asleep in his arms, I thought he's the one. It had been like he was inside my head, reading my mind, giving me what I wanted even before I knew it myself. I'd never come so quickly, so easily, so frequently with any other man. I'd never enjoyed a man's body so much, never felt so intimate. It was the greatest sex ever -- and then some. We were so attuned to each other, this man and I, that there was not a single doubt in my mind: we had to become partners.

The greatest sex ever. Yeh, that's what I said. It was wonderful to wake the next morning in a tired, happy, sweaty tangle. We murmured good morning, kissed, and finally raised our masks. My heart died as I looked into the eyes of Charlie, my twin brother.

I told you. That Roz -- she's an evil bitch.