by JM ©
I am the type of person who gets easily bored. This causes problems in relationships - not so much for me, but for the men I date. I seem to have a tolerance limit of two years, and Brian and I have been dating for two and a half.
Well, in theory. Really, the relationship has been over for a rather long time, but sharing an apartment together in the young, hip (read: expensive) part of town, we simply haven't gotten to the point of him actually moving out yet. That's coming soon. The lease will be up in a month. I know it's going to be difficult because everybody knows everybody else in this area of the city. Which means we have a number of mutual friends and it's only a matter of time before Brian finds out what I've done.
Like I said, the relationship has been over for some time. We haven't been intimate in seven months, and now that it's summertime I find myself getting hot in ways that have nothing to do with the July heat.
One evening, I was in a neighborhood pub lamenting this fact to Marc, one of our mutual friends. He had been Brian's roommate when Brian and I first began dating, so I'd known him for some time and was comfortable discussing details of that nature with him. God knows how many times I had to hear him tell me stories of his ex (what a bitch she was!). As Marc sat sipping his usual gin-and-tonics and I downed yet another bottle of ale, we agreed that my relationship with Brian was, in fact, over and there was nothing to do but convince Brian to leave.
We sat quietly for a few moments. I peeled at the label on the bottle and Marc played with his straw, causing the ice to clink against the glass. He placed the glass on the table and stared at me. "What?" I demanded.
"Can I ask you something?"
I got an uneasy feeling that I knew what it was going to be. I had begun to realize some time ago that Marc was developing a crush on me. I began to scrutinize the label. "No," I said, "you can't."
"All right, then," said Marc, and with that the awkward moment passed.
In the days that followed I had the dreaded conversation with Brian, who took it much better than I had expected. Life pretty much went on the same as it always had, except that Brian was staying at home more often (which I found incredibly annoying) so I began going out more, and staying out later.
One particularly nice weekend Brian and I decided to have some friends over for a cookout. Marc was among the invited guests. There was tons of food, beer and booze. I was in charge of the grill while everybody else listened to music and played on the computer or talked. Especially James, who never shuts up. After everyone had eaten their fill, Marc and I went out to the balcony to get away from James' jabbering jaws. We sat and talked and drank and laughed at James, who would occasionally poke his head out to speak some drivel, which was blessedly drown out by the strategically placed stereo speaker. After a while, Brian left with most of the party to go to a bar. Quiet now that James had left, Marc and I returned inside. Only two other guests remained, Brian's brother, Sam, and his friend. Sleepy from the food and beer, I decided to take a nap, but asked Marc if he wanted to meet up later to go to the bar. He agreed and I fell asleep.
When I awoke later that evening, I was surprised to see Marc was still there. I freshened myself up a bit, and we left for the pub. I had taken the last bottle of beer from the refrigerator before we left and dumped a shot of rum into it. Marc and I laughed the whole way down the alley about the silliness of two adults sneaking about with a single bottle of beer. "I don't think I've done this since I was in seventh grade!" he said. "Yeah, but it's got the last of the rum in it, so give it back!" I laughed.
We arrived at our destination to find that the other members of the afternoon's party had gone elsewhere. Other than the bartender, a friend of mine, we had the place to ourselves. After several rounds of drinks, Marc left for home. I stayed on, doing shots with the now off-duty barkeep. When I realized that I was getting a bit tipsy, I, too, decided it was time to go. I started for home, but decided Marc's apartment was closer. To my relief, despite the late hour, he was still awake.
"Hi, honey, I'm drunk. Can I pass out here?" I asked.
"Of course you can. Come on in, Jen." He opened the door for me and cleared off a seat in the kitchen. We started talking about nothing or maybe it was something funny, I don't remember. I remember that I was getting that itch, and I wasn't paying much attention to the conversation other than to find the right time to hop on his lap.
I was sitting sidesaddle with one arm around him, still laughing and talking, while Marc's arms were wrapped around my waist. I turned to face him, trying to gauge his reaction to what I was about to do. I slipped my other hand behind his head and began to kiss him deeply. My hungry tongue searched his mouth, then traced his lips softly before parting. For a split second, I wondered if I should stop there. After all, he was Brian's friend, too. Marc made the decision for us both. He pulled my face back down to his and began kissing me hard. With our faces still locked together, I stood up to reposition myself on his lap. With my legs on either side of his we continued kissing and licking each other on the mouth, neck and ears. Our bodies were pressed together as tightly as we held fast in this illicit embrace. His cock began to strain at the fabric of his cut-offs, and I thrust back at his bulge. I knew then that there was no turning back. I had to have him.
"What should we do now?" he whispered. I kissed him again.
"I want you, Marc. I want you to make love to me right now. I want you to make love to me all night."
With that, Marc stood up, still holding me against him, and carried me into the bedroom. He tossed me on to the bed and we both scrambled to get out of our clothes. Crawling onto the foot of the bed, Marc began kissing me softly on the legs, slowly moving from my calves to my thighs.
He paused for a moment before he placed his mouth over my trimmed red-haired pussy. I inhaled sharply; his tongue felt cool against my heated mound as he delicately lapped up the sweet liqueur between my legs. The stroke of his tongue was deliberate, traveling from the very opening of my slit to the entrance of my hole and back up again. Marc took my swollen clit into his mouth and began sucking it like a nipple. The feeling was so incredible, so different from Brian. As he began working his way into my hole, my body shuddered. Marc slurped up my cum, then continued his climb up the bed, stopping only to give some of his loving affection to my breasts. Expertly using that soft tongue, he pressed against my large pink nipple, swirling them around in his mouth, pushing it in on itself, while at the same time rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
The sensations that were running through my body were intense. I needed to be fucked so badly, and now. I grabbed his shoulders and guided him fully up on me. His cock had no trouble finding its mark, and from my juice and his saliva he entered me with little effort. I gasped when I felt his manhood inside of me. It had been so long since either of us had sex with anyone that I'm sure it was as great a feeling for him as for me. Marc began pumping in and out of me, and I found his rhythm and began thrusting back. This was a pleasant surprise to him, and he said as much. I wrapped my legs around his and held him tight as he brought me to orgasm time and again. After my fourth or fifth (I lost count) I had to beg him to stop. It was too much for me, I couldn't catch my breath. We lay on the bed with my head on his chest, kissing and talking about the great sex we just had, how it was different from our recent (or soon-to-be) exes and life in general.
I caught my second wind sometime later, or rather, Marc gave it to me. As we lay there kissing and petting one another, it just kinda heated up again. He was fondling my tits and I could feel myself getting wet again. I climbed on top of him and began kissing down his neck, down his chest, flicking at his tiny nipples with my tongue. I licked semicircles around his stomach then focused my attention on his partially erect cock. I actually like sucking cock - I like giving pleasure as much as I like receiving it. And I'm good.
Judging by the sighs and moans escaping Marc's lips, he agreed. I like starting out slow, licking up and down the shaft before slowly lowering my mouth over as much cock as I can stuff in my face. I'll go down straight but wiggle my tongue over the shaft on my way back up. I sucked on Marc's cock for a while but the desire in my pussy grew to strong to suppress. Crawling back up the bed, I positioned myself over his pole and slid down. It felt even better the second time around. Marc grabbed my neck and pulled my face down to his and began kissing me hard, whispering for me to cum on him again. It didn't take much for me to oblige.
Breathless again, we snuggled up to get a few hours rest before Marc had to go to work and I had to think up a good excuse to tell Brian.
As it turned out, this was the first of many stolen moments between us.
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