A Story About the Body Ch. 02byCallMeBambi©
What I needed was sex.
It had taken until today for me to realize just how long it had been since I had last had sex. My last relationship had ended over eight months ago, and there hadn't been any time for anyone to fill the gaps between now and then. For the most part I was fine with it. My body had needs, but I was mostly able to satisfy myself when the urge came.
But today was different. It wasn't the urge for release that I craved, it was the complete and utter need for sex; loud, rough, tender, emotional, dirty, sweet, quiet, ravenous, intense sex.
As soon as I had smelled Cassandra's perfume on my shirt, when I was alone and safe in my home, I knew exactly what I had needed, and what I had wanted. I realized that all of my frustration and anger I felt for letting someone, another woman—a strange other woman—so handily disarm me of inhibition, wasn't because I was angry; I was horny.
Why hadn't there been more? Why couldn't it have been more than the teasing touch of skin on skin? Why couldn't there have been lips, and tongues and hands; pressure from our bodies touching, lying naked together, her fingers once more stroking my hair—why hadn't there been so much more?
Sitting on a chair in my living room I looked through the contact list of my phone. It was a Thursday evening, so I figured most of the people I knew would probably be home. I scrolled through the list a couple of times to see what was there, and then chose.
Dan, a good male friend of mine that I had met when I was at the local college, seemed like the perfect choice. We didn't hang out very much, and almost never one-on-one, but that was most of my friends. More importantly than not knowing him very well, I knew that he had kind of liked me when we first met and probably would be willing to do just about anything I asked if I seemed crestfallen enough.
So I called.
Crushingly, he told me he was having a date night with his girlfriend.
"You have a girlfriend?" I almost yelled it through the phone I was so shocked. I hadn't even realized that he was seeing anyone, and a part of me felt awful for calling him, for trying to use a friend of mine like that. I tried, as smoothly as I could, to explain that I was perfectly okay and his being busy wasn't a problem, even though he repeatedly told me that if I needed something he could be there in a minute.
And it was very tempting to let him come over. But I knew if he came over, despite my best intentions to not jump him, I almost certainly would, and he wouldn't stop me. I would really like to tell you that I didn't invite him over because I consciously chose to take the moral high road; that I would never have violated my friendship with someone else at the expense of another person. But honestly, the real reason I didn't invite him over, knowing that he wouldn't stop me when I came on to him, was because I knew he was too sweet of a guy to not tell his girlfriend, and that would crush me to see happen to him.
After we hung up, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and seriously considered abandoning the crazy ideas I was having for a nice hot shower. A nice long, steamy shower would probably clear everything up that I was feeling. But as I thought about how a shower would feel, I imagined Cassandra there with me, massaging my breasts under the jets of warm water; kissing me under the steam, exploring every inch of my body as I did the same to hers.
Even before I opened my eyes I was looking through my contacts list again.
The next name I chose was Carl. He was, easily, the best looking guy friend I had and the only reason I hadn't called him in the first place was because he was almost always involved with someone, and very rarely was it the same person twice in a month. I let the phone ring until it hit voicemail and then hung up. Part of me really, really wanted to leave a message just in case he picked up later, but the small rational part of me that was still functioning said "leave no evidence".
I was starting to feel desperate. I don't have a lot of guy friends who fit the criteria for what I was looking for. I needed someone I was close enough to that I felt comfortable, but not so close to that I actually valued their friendship and would be devastated if one night ruined everything. I know that I am attractive in a comely way, and most of my guy friends, if I asked, would probably give me a night of passion if I asked (though to be fair, I think most women have that power)—but I wanted a specific type of guy for tonight.
I scrolled nervously through my contacts one last time and saw Bobby. He wasn't really a close friend, but, more than a year ago, we had fooled around a couple of times. I thought about it carefully, analyzing the pros and cons of our previous encounters. It was a long time ago, but I couldn't remember much about it, good or bad.
I shrugged. He would have to do. I dialed and it started ringing.
"Hello?" it was a woman's voice.
Immediately I began to panic. Oh my God, if I hang up now she'll think he's cheating on her.
"Hello," I said nervously. "Is, um, Bobby there?"
"I think you have the wrong number," she told me. "Who is this?"
"Oh, thank God," I sighed with relief. "I felt awful! I thought I was calling him, and then you answered, and I didn't want you to think I was some kind of home wrecker, or something!"
She laughed and we talked for a moment or two. She told me she'd had this number for a couple of months and that she still got some messages and calls from other girls who were looking for someone named 'Bobby'.
Eventually I hung up, and sat alone. The black screen of my phone stared back at me, unblinking. I was locked in a staring contest with it, and it was there, looking at me, wrapped in its stupid purple case.
It was just daring me.
"Alright," I said out loud. "Fuck it!" I closed my eyes and scrolled wildly up and down through my phone, waited a few seconds and then pressed my thumb down on a random part of the phone, swiped and hoped I had called someone who wasn't my mother. I kept my eyes closed until the phone was pressed against my ear, careful not to reveal the identity of the person I had just called.
If it works, it's meant to be, I told myself as the phone rang.
"Hello?" said a voice. It was hard to pin-point who exactly it was, so I just listened, trying to determine whose voice it was. It was definitely a guy, so that was a good start. "Hello? Serena?" he said.
"Hi," I said meekly. "Do you want to come over?"
There was a pause.
"Right now? You okay?" he asked. He sounded concerned. His voice was deep, but softly spoken. It sounded familiar, but not distinct.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Just looking for a little company tonight."
"Give me an hour?" he asked. I was still trying to figure out whose voice it was. It sounded so very familiar, but I couldn't be sure. Most guys sound the same to me over the phone.
"Alright, see ya' soon," he said.
I moved the phone away from my head and looked at the caller ID. All it said was "DO NOT CALL". Immediately then I knew that it was Jeremy, my ex-boyfriend and the last person I had slept with, nearly eight months ago.
"Of course," I sighed. I gently tapped the phone against my head as I considered texting him back telling him that things had changed; that I had actually, as soon as I hung up the phone, just remembered that I had plans to wash my hair tonight, and that if I didn't it would all fall out, and I would go grey, and I'd have to buy cats, and live alone—like I already did—and—
I took a really deep breath.
"It's just one night," I told myself. "It doesn't mean anything to anyone, he's just a guy; not the last guy, or anyone of significance—just any guy I could have picked up in a bar, or at the store—doesn't even matter what kind of store; he's just a guy."
It was time for that shower.
The relaxation swept over me when I first stepped into the hot jets of water. Feeling it pound into my skin was probably the second best thing the sex right then, and I was very glad I'd spent a lot of money on a super-powered massaging showerhead. Now that I had gotten in to the shower I realized I didn't want to get out. My hands slyly moved down my body, feeling for the curve of my pelvis. I pressed one hand against the wall of my shower to steady myself while I parted the lips of my pussy and gently let my middle finger tease the tip of my clit.
I shifted my feet to spread my legs. The jets of water thudded into my shoulders. My fingers worked in a gentle motion on the top of my clit and I let my mind wander ... back to the dressing room, back to Cassandra, to Jeremy.
The idea of Cassandra with me in the shower returned, our bodies pressed together. I wanted her to be there with me, just as aroused as I was, craving her touch as much as she was mine, letting the fear and the excitement of the moment wash over us with the water. We would both be so afraid to touch each other, but so eager; so confused why, but so sure that it was right.
I could already feel my fingers working their magic spell on my body. With great difficulty I pulled my hand away from my body. My breathing was heavy. My chest rose and fell quickly as I stood there under the water.
I wanted to cum ... my fingers started to sneak back down my body to my pussy.
But I needed to wait. I wanted more than just the physical release of my body. I wanted to feel his body and mine, together; that wholeness and tenderness I had felt when we were together and he would make love to me. I wanted to feel my stomach swelling with butterflies when he first kissed me and the giddy anticipation of his body teasing me, readying me ... and then the tsunami of pleasure wash over me as he first entered me.
My fingers were back on my clit. I knew I needed to wait, but the touch felt too good to deny.
I thought about Jeremy and myself naked between the bed sheets last Christmas. He had taken me skiing to a small mountain-town resort. It was a beautiful village though we hardly explored it. We had a beautiful chalet to ourselves that overlooked the entire mountain, complete with our own personal hot tub and fireplace, and all we did that whole week amid the tangled bed sheets.
I bit my lip as I remembered the place. I remembered the way he took me when we first entered our room; our bags strewn clumsily in the hallway as he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. His tongue went deep into my mouth and his hands moved roughly up my body, my arms pinned above my head as he undressed me, as he kissed me.
My fingers started to press harder against my clit, and faster. I thought about how he had lifted me into his arms in the hallway, and I had ripped his shirt off, and he took me, holding me in his arms against the wall, my nails digging into his skin as he entered me.
My body started to tremble under the jets of water and I let the faintest moan escape my lips. I remembered his naked body, glistening in sweat as he had made love to me later, after we found our way to the bedroom. His body pressed closely to mine and my arms wrapped around his back holding him closely to me, every muscle in my body was tender. Every motion made me moan.
I thought about him, filling me with his cock and telling me he loved me, our bodies melted together in that bed as we came together in a chorus of ecstatic moans.
I could cum right now, I thought to myself, speeding up. Just a little—quickly, realizing what I was about to do I pulled my hand away from my throbbing clit. I squeezed my breasts, rubbing and turning my nipples with my fingertips. My body shuddered in frustration as I stopped.
I threw my head back and pressed my lips together hard. I remembered the next night, sitting naked with him on the thick fur rug in front of the fireplace, his hands, massaging my shoulders while we watched the flames licking the steel grate. I thought about how we fucked that night in front of the fireplace on that soft rug, not made love, but fucked, rough and hard. His hands ran all over my body, squeezing, pulling, grabbing; we bit each other, and kissed each other. I thought about how he had bent me over onto my hands and knees and fucked me hard from behind, spanking me, pulling my hair while I begged for more. And I thought about me, pushing him onto his back, riding him; controlling him, making him beg me to cum. We fucked on and on, until the fire had burnt down to embers and finally, bruised and satisfied, we collapsed into each other and lay until we had become too cold. He carried me back to bed, in his arms.
I didn't like to admit it, but that night and that whole week really, was the best, most erotic sexual experience of my life, and I knew it had been for him too.
I took a deep breath and turned the shower off. I hadn't accomplished anything I wanted, I felt neither cleaner, nor more relaxed but I knew I couldn't be trusted with my own body.
I don't know exactly how long it took him to arrive, but it was definitely less than the hour he had promised. I had been out of the shower for barely five minutes when I heard the knock on the door. Half-naked in the bathroom, trying to dry my hair still I shouted up at him, "Door's open."
As I gave up trying to dry my hair, I heard the door to the apartment open and his voice call out my name.
"Just a minute," I called back. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had put on my wonderbra, and the laciest white thong that I had. I quickly inspected my face and body for any visible flaws and then adjusted my cleavage in my bra as best as I could. The bathroom in my apartment was near the door so I knew he'd have to pass by it to get into the apartment's living area.
"Where are you?" he called. I listened carefully and when I thought his footsteps had passed me, I flung the door open and leaned against the doorjamb, my body on display.
"Here," I said as he turned around. He had a bottle of wine in his hand that he nearly dropped. I felt exposed and vulnerable as his eyes watched me.
"Miss me much?" he said cockily. He started to move towards me, the bottle still in hand.
"No, no," I said, as I slipped by him in the hallway towards the living area. His fingertips grazed my body as I passed, and I shivered. "Put the bottle down, and sit on the couch."
He complied quickly and without question, putting the bottle of wine on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. I followed his trajectory to the couch and sat down on top of him, facing him. I put my hands on the back of the couch and gyrated my hips over his crotch. I felt his hands roughly grab my sides as he went to kiss me. I looked away from him as his lips came towards mine, so all he was able to do was kiss my neck. I moved my hands down to his, still twisting my hips on top of him, and pushed his hands away.
"Before we continue, Jeremy," I told him as his hands dropped to his sides. "There are a few rules. First, this is only going to happen once." I ground my hips a little bit harder into his body. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
"Secondly, this is not about you. We're going to do what I want," I told him, turning his head to the side and kissing the lobe of his ear. I ran my hands down his body to his waist and began to undo his belt. I yanked it roughly out of the straps of his jeans and held it front of his face.
"Thirdly, if you don't do exactly what I want, I'm going to have to"—I snapped the belt in front of his face—"punish you."
I slid myself off of his body so that I was on my knees on the floor and started to pull his pants down. He looked down at me with large eyes and an open mouth. I could already see the bulge in his pants forming. He was fairly well-hung, probably one of the better guys I had ever been with in terms of size, which made him bearable. Even though he wasn't overly skilled or knowledgeable of how to please a woman, the size made him passable.
"And lastly, just because you can't go anymore"—I told him, my hands on his thighs, my mouth hovering just above his hardening member—"Doesn't mean that I'm done with you. Okay?"
He nodded his head in agreement. I pulled on his boxers until they were done his legs and saw his full, thick cock staring back at me. I put one hand on it and looked at it. It was already thick, and rigid with veins. I pushed my hair to one side and opened my mouth. My hand started to move up and down slowly, and with barely any pressure on his body. I could see him writhing, trying to use his hips to pleasure himself with my hand.
"Sorry?" I asked. "I didn't hear your answer."
He gasped. "Okay, okay," he said. "Whatever you want ... just, Serena ... Please."
I stood up in front of him, and took my hand off his shaft. His hand moved quickly to where mine had been and he began to stroke himself with long, hard strokes up and down his shaft. I stripped my panties off in front of him and stepped out of them. "Show me," I commanded. I climbed up onto the sofa so that I was standing and put my feet on either side of his legs, my delicious, soaking mound right in front of his face. I reached down with my hand and played with his hair, encouraging him. With wide eyes he looked up at me and slowly tilted his head back until I could feel his breath on the lips of my pussy.
I closed my eyes feeling the warmth of his breath. It sent chills through my body, and immediately I thought back to the dressing room earlier that day. Cassandra had been so close to my pussy too, had she only removed my panties and taken the time to stretch out her perfect pink tongue ...
Like a shock, I felt his tongue against the outer lips of my pussy. I grabbed at his hair as I felt his tongue. I imagined his tongue was Cassandra's, and I was still in that change room. He worked his way into the dewy center of my lips, though it took so long. My legs started shaking as he finally licked at the tip of my clit.
I moaned, and I could tell he enjoyed hearing me moan almost as much as I enjoyed feeling his tongue on my body. He flicked his tongue harder and faster at the swelling bulb of my pussy and I pulled harder on the back of his head, inviting him deeper into my body. I reached around my back with my free hands, undid my bra and tossed it away. Balancing myself with my hand on the back of his head, I let my free hand wander my body to my nipples and I began to tease them and play with them. My eyes, still closed, saw Cassandra's hands where mine were; felt her tongue where his was.
I moaned louder as he continued praising my clit with his tongue. I felt his hands starting to reach to my hips and I moaned even louder. I started to feel the muscles in my legs contract and shake. It felt so amazing.
"Yes," I breathed to him, tugging harder on his head. "Yes." I said again, panting.
The rhythm of his tongue was exotic and unpredictable. He moved in circles, tracing the outline of my clit with it, and then would flick at it, moving up and down, or side to side. I started to brace myself. My tension in my legs increased as I felt the crashing wave of my first orgasm coming over me.
And then, he pulled me down roughly onto his lap. "Oh my God, no," I was breathless, still panting. I tried to stand back up, but his hands roughly held me down on top of him. "No, I'm so close." My own hand moved down to my pussy. It throbbed to be touched again, as I started to roll it around underneath the tip of my finger. I bit down on my lip as I rubbed furiously, but as I did, he lifted my hips off of him just enough so that his hard cock was fully erected underneath my body and then he started to gently lower me down on top of him.
Feverishly I massaged myself, though already I could feel the orgasm ebbing. Angrily I tried to push myself off of him, but he held me too tightly.