Addicted Ch. 06

After that Wednesday hum-job in a top-down hummer, I was as addicted to Lizzy's lips as she was addicted to sliding them down a shaft.

We both made our escape before somebody called the cops on us and that gave me the rest of the day to just bask in the glow. All day, at the gym, client after client, I'm sure I was wearing a stupid grin.

Not even Carly, the married sex maniac -- and my boss -- could knock me out of the post-public blowjob stupor that Liz left me in. The fact that it was Lizzy's lips on my brain, rather than Carly tits (that were right next to me) was testament to how fascinating Lizzy really was.

Suddenly, inspiration: what would be the right setting to dive deeper into the mystery of Lizzy?

#

I called her on Thursday. "Hey, you got plans this weekend?"

"Well, I, uh... nothing urgent. What do you want to do?"

"I want to get to know you better. Beach camping: you and me. Whole weekend."

"Beach camping?"

"Yeah! Tent, surf, sand... like a picnic with seagulls. Got a swim suit?"

"Um, wow!"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes!"

#

That Friday, I picked her up after work and had her pack for a beach weekend. We drove up to a secluded little beach just south of Ventura and set up a tent in the dunes.

Nobody else around, we had fun in the water. She put on a bikini that was meant to impress... and it did. Sure, the boobs were modest (though nice), but her legs and ass were absolutely amazing. She'd sculpted herself into the perfect balance between slender femininity and toned athleticism.

We ran around the dunes, in and out of the water... and she could keep up. I know she was pretty disciplined about working out, and I remember her talking about running 5Ks, and this was a good reminder.

Also, she had this habit of running her fingers under her butt cheeks. Almost a self-grab, but not quite. It seemed like it was an unconscious thing, like she was adjusting the backs of her panties, even when she wasn't wearing any. It always drew my gaze right to her ass... and I think she liked that.

As it got dark. I started a campfire. We roasted hot dogs and made s'mores. Cheesy, yeah, but it was fun.

That night, the onshore wind rocked us. The tent was anchored fine, but it sounded dramatic and it had us sharing my two-person bedroll.

She climbed in and I spooned her, and it was all quiet for about two minutes. Then...

"So how many other girls have you had in this 2-person bag?"

I scratched my head. "Um... none, actually. I just bought it."

"Oh... How many other girls do you think you'll have in it?"

I bit the back of her neck. "Are you jealous already?"

"Maybe."

"I don't know. The idea of a beachside menage-a-trois sounds pretty good."

She started laughing. "Oh, my God. I can't believe I asked that -- and that you answered."

"Was it the answer you were expecting?"

"Honestly... no."

I reached down between her thighs -- and she was damp. Warmth was radiating from her. "I think, what you need, is a dose of dick to remind you of what's important..."

She raised a leg, though she could only go so far in the bedroll.

From my smart-ass comment to her just raising a slender leg as her answer, I was instantly hard. A second later, I was sliding my shaft along her wet sex. A deep breath from both of us, and I was inside her.

She closed her eyes as I started a rhythm.

Fuck. This girl! I was being a smart-ass and I expected her to give me a slap or something. Instead, she took it at face value, as if I was some well-practiced dominant. Nope. Thinking about it, though, that meant she was probably a natural submissive.

I didn't usually go for submissive girls. I went for the fiery redheads, full of fight and bite. But not this time. This time, I was falling hard for a plain-cutesy brunette. An absolutely slutty brunette.

The number came floating back: 32 boyfriends. 33 including me? 32 guys had fucked this pussy before and suddenly... this was the hottest pussy ever.

Of course, she'd also cheated on every single one of those boyfriends... by going down on some random guy.

Yeah, my girlfriend was a slut. A really cute slut.

Yeah, if I was honest with myself, my relationship "fate" was just as sealed as those other guys. She was going to cheat on me, too.

I was over-thinking this.

I closed my eyes and pushed all the complexities out. A deep breath... and a slow thrust. Pulling back, then pushing again. All wet and warm...

It was meditation.

After a minute, there was nothing but the sensation of sliding in and out of this well-used pussy. So fucking good...

She was breathing heavy, heavy enough for me to hear her over the howling wind.

I nodded to myself. She enjoyed it. Good.

I needed to give this slutty pussy a dose of me. Oh, quick update: she was on the pill.

Thought about that, too, as I pictured other guys fucking this little cutie.

I was thinking about it again, but it was working this time. In my head, she was a chipmunk-cheeked amateur porn star. 32 home-made videos played in my head... and you just know most of them got more than one shot.

This perfect, inviting pussy... nestled between those killer legs...

That moment of tension, my balls tightened, and a deep breath later, I shot my jizz deep.

Her eyes flickered open, then snapped back shut as her body shuddered against mine.

I leaned in, my lips touching her ear, and whispered: "You are awesome."

We fell asleep like that: tangled together, me inside her.

#

The next morning, I had scrambled eggs and coffee going on the camp stove before she woke up. Still a breeze, and it carried the aroma right into the tent.

She was out a minute later in a beach robe.

Small talk as she took in the beach in the morning light. Then a cup of coffee, and a plate of eggs, then a pause...

She sipped her morning joe as the seagulls flew overhead. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"This?" She gestured toward the tent and the breakfast. "This is really cool! But you actually know I'm a slut, and it never lasts."

"Why is that? Think I'm going to get my fill and go?"

"Yes." She stared at me over the rim of her cup. "Or my slut side will take over, and I'll cheat, and then you'll go."

"Will it?"

She didn't answer, sipping her coffee instead. She finally spun around, exasperated. "I don't want to, but I've cheated on every boyfriend I've ever had."

"Yeah, I remember. We had this conversation. Usually around the two-three month mark. Are you going to cheat on me?"

"No!" She took a deep breath. "But if I'm honest, I've said that before. Three months in, I don't... I don't have control anymore. So... yes?"

"If you actually said 'no' and stuck to it, I would've doubted you. I appreciate the honesty."

"I'm glad. I just wish..."

"What?"

"That I could be, you know..."

"Faithful?"

She nodded, self-conscious.

I took a bite of eggs, and I was still chewing when the words came to me. "Live in the moment, Liz. Let's pretend I don't have feelings for you. Let's pretend this is just an extended one-night stand. Sex on the beach is still better than somebody's apartment at two in the morning, isn't it? It'll make a nice memory, won't it?"

She nodded. "It makes a memory that makes other memories kinda wither away."

"Thanks." Behind me, the seagulls squawked over the surf. "I'm glad you're having a good time."

"I am. That's why I kinda hate myself right now."

"Because how strong that three-month itch'll be?"

She looked away, her eyes a little glassy.

I set down my plate and came up behind her, draping an arm over her shoulder. "Remember that 'dirty talk' you liked so much in the Starbuck parking garage?"

She rolled her eyes, blushing. She gave me a little side-eye as she answered. "Yes. You want to know something?"

"What?" I shrugged.

She bit her lip. "I masturbated, like five times, to those words."

"Good," I chuckled. "You know how hot it is to hear that? You know how much I want to see my dick sliding between your chipmunk cheeks, right now?"

She giggled, still blushing. "I think I can help you with that."

"I want to see a lotta things with you..."

She looked up at me, the "big eyes" turned on again. "Really?"

"Can't really do that if we break up."

"It's not like I'm breaking up with... I'm just..."

"Sucking some other guy's cock."

"Sucking some other guy's cock," she repeated.

I brushed the windblown hair out of her eyes. "So, 32 boyfriends, and you've sucked 32 dicks to say goodbye?"

"I was NOT breaking up with them! I was just... sucking another dick."

"The guys you sucked off... was it ever the same guy?"

She shook her head.

"So 32 different other guys?"

She nodded.

"To be a fly on the wall."

"Huh?"

"I wish I could've watched every single one."

She blushed a little.

"So, I'm boggled that every single guy you've gone out with has broken up with you over a wayward blowjob. Doesn't anybody forgive and forget anymore?"

"Right?!" She held out her hands.

"So, I'm guessing they were threatened. Probably a confidence thing."

She gestured to herself. "Over me? Are they crazy?"

"Okay, Miss Ass of Magnificence; stop." I took another bite of eggs and used the pause to compose shit that she needed to hear. "I know you get off on a little sexual humiliation. I can't imagine the buttons it pushes in you, but I'm starting to pick up the vibe and it's the weirdest boner thinking of tiny, kinky ways to embarrass my girlfriend. Even there, though, there's a line..."

"Like a 'don't cross this' kind of line?"

"Yeah. Thank you. We need a little straight talk, okay?"

She blinked like mad, suddenly standing at attention. "Okay?"

"First of all, you're a good person. You're warm, compassionate, creative..."

"Thank you?"

"Second, you're pretty. You know that, right?"

"Umm..." She did the hands-under-the-butt-cheeks thing again. Damn if that wasn't just the cutest, weirdest little gesture.

"Third, you just gestured to yourself like a 'before' picture. You're what, a size six?"

Her head snapped a little. "Holy shit, I've never met a guy that even knew what that was!"

"Personal trainer, babe! Girls come in and tell me all the time: 'hey, I'm a 14, but I really need to get down to a 6 before we start shooting. Can you do that?'"

"They want to get to my size?"

"Yes!"

"I want to be a size zero."

"Grass is always greener."

"My boobs would look better on a size 0."

"Then get a fucking boob job! Nature screws up all the time. Don't take it personally, just get it fixed."

"Would they really be mine?"

"You're not leasing 'em! Jesus! Save the receipt if you're worried, they're your fucking boobs!"

"Would I look better with bigger boobs?"

Needle-scratch right across the beach.

She nodded. "I thought so."

Dammit, missed my cool there. I stepped in, kissed her -- and palmed her A-cups. "You have very nice boobs."

She raised her hands over her head. "Size 6, chipmunk cheeks... I think DDs would look good, don't you?"

Deep breath. "Lizzy, I can not wait to slide my dick between your double-Ds."

She jumped up and down, clapping. "WooHoo!"

I held out my hands. "Just... think about it, first, okay? No rash decisions."

"I promise I won't make any appointments until we're back in L.A."

I buried my face in my hand. What have I done?

She was running in circles around the picnic table. "I'm gonna get a boob job! I'm gonna get a boob job! I'm gonna get a boob job!"

#

We played in the water for hours. It was cold, that was SoCal, but we got used to it. We went snorkeling and saw sea urchins and manta rays and harbor seals before we finally kicked back to shore.

I popped out two MREs and held them up. She'd never seen one.

"Don't you need a microwave for those?"

"Nope! That's why they call it..." I dragged my finger across the packaging. "Meal: Ready to Eat. Normally an abomination, but..." I rolled out a spice kit that looked like a mobile chemistry lab. "Even these can be good when you know what to add..."

#

By the time the sun was going down, I had the coffee on again. This time, I pulled a half-gallon thermos of Bailey's Irish Cream out of the Hummer.

Three drinks in and it was hitting just right.

She leaned against me. "I've never met anybody like you."

"And you never will again, so stick with me girl."

Deep sigh. "Haven't we had this conversation?"

I rolled my eyes. "Every single guy broke up with you?"

"Most of them. There were... four guys..."

"That was your way of breaking up with them?"

"No, but kinda? Actually, I really liked them, but they were so crushed after I did it... So I did it again, just so they wouldn't feel bad about moving on."

"That's actually... wow."

"What?"

"Somewhere between compassionate and brutally kinky."

She stopped to consider a moment. She took a sip and rested her head back against me. "Compassion isn't usually a 'hot' feature guys look for. Especially not hot guys."

"No, but smart guys look for it."

"Okay," she nodded. She reached out like she was sliding something across a shelf. "Moving you from 'hot guy' to 'smart guy'."

"Thanks?" Wasn't sure what to make of that. "Yeah, so, I think most guys like their partner to be kind or warm, or whatever. It's just hard to identify 'compassion' when you see a girl across the room."

She took a sip, then another, then just drained the cup. "I so... sooo... don't want to screw this up."

"Good."

"But..."

I chuckled. There it was. "Liz, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

She refilled her Baileys and put a splash of coffee in it. "That parking garage dirty talk..."

"Feels truthy?"

She nodded.

I rubbed my chin, thinking about it. "So, yeah, you like giving head--"

"No, I love giving head."

"Okay, you love giving head." I ran a finger over her nipple, catching her off-guard. "But the cheat is a separate thing... and it's really exciting for you."

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Her eyes got a little watery and I don't think she was expecting to feel that, or answer that. Her own honesty seemed to surprise her.

"What's the tear for?"

"Well, I'm utterly emotionally invested in you, but... I'm me. Cheating is my weakness."

"Well, it is how we met. It kinda sets up certain expectations, you know?"

She nodded. "Do you at least like the way I give head?"

"Yeah! Love it. You're amazing..." How does one get that good? Practice. So how the fuck much has she practiced...? Suddenly, from a relationship Point of View, I wanted answers. What was the best way to ask, and was I ready for the answer? "So, I was #33 in bed... but how many guys have you gone down on?

"Before you? 106," she winced.

"Wow, that's... specific. You actually kept count?"

"You did ask."

"Yeah, I expected more of a ball park."

She shook her head. "Maybe a couple of team's worth, but not the whole ball park."

"HAHAAHAhahahaha... Kinky." I think I was falling in love with this girl. As for 106, it was just a bit of a rush. "Yeah, so, in the interest of full disclosure, I can't tell you my number of partners because I never kept count. I got tested from time to time, and I've probably received head a little more than you've given it. Maybe."

She dig her fist into her hips, exasperated. "Slut!"

"Guilty," I shrugged. "A hundred and six partners?"

"Spread out over ten years," she defended.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Uff! Young..." I counted it out on my fingers. "So average: maybe a new guy every month and change?"

She nodded. "Good math for a personal trainer."

Sudden question: "Do the thirty-two overlap the one-oh-six?"

"No-ah!" Like I was missing the obvious. "If I slept with them, all bets are off. There was, like, potentially real feelings."

"Potentially?"

"I cared."

"The oral hundred-and-six: one time shots?"

"A lot of them, yes," she shrugged. "A lot of them were more, some of them were a lot more."

"A lot more?" We stared at each other a moment, the onshore breeze blowing sand through her brown hair. I watched the strands flutter across her face. "But they weren't boyfriends?"

She hid behind her Baileys. "I'm definitely not a saint."

"I dunno. Patron Saint of Oral Sex?"

She giggled behind her cup. "I accept the nomination, but Monica Lewinsky owns that one."

I cheers'd her cup. "When's the last time you blew another guy besides me?"

She immediately turned around and mumbled something into the wind.

"Sorry? Didn't quite catch that..."

She mumbled it again, talking to the surf.

"Hey, cutie-lips, over here."

She turned back around, her eyes watery again. "It was the afternoon of our third date. About an hour before you got there."

"Before the museum?! You little slut!" I laughed.

She nodded and hung her head.

I was laughing, she wasn't. "Okay, whoa, you're taking this way too seriously."

"Yeah! Well..."

"Hmmmmm?!"

"People... and sex! And... stuff!"

"That about sums it up."

She covered her face. "Oh, Jesus."

I reached around her hand and wiped the tear trail from her cheek. I let my hand slide behind her neck and I gently pulled her forward. Her closest "part" was her forehead, so I kissed that and let her go.

She dared a peek at me from between her fingers.

I gave her my best "Confused Vincent" (Pulp Fiction). "So, I thought the third date was the magic number?"

The question sent her spiraling back down. She mumbled: "We hadn't had it yet..."

"Yeah, true. Fair enough. Random guy like I was?"

She shook her head. "My friends with benefits know when I'm between boyfriends. I'm sort of a head call."

"A what?"

"A 'head call'." She stared at me like everybody knew what that was. "Like a booty call, but head."

"I'm vaguely... aroused."

"Good?"

A lower lip built for cocksucking had sealed her fate. There was a stormy mix going on inside, but one thing I could figure out: I wanted my dick back in her mouth. "Do you put up the Bat-Signal or something?"

"Facebook relationship status." She blinked through watery eyes. "You're not freaking out?"

"I'm kinda turned on." I put my hand on the back of her head and gently guided her face toward my dick. She followed my lead, going to her knees on the sandy beach. "I want to hear every sexy story you can remember."

"Really?"

"Yes! Babe, you are my personal porn star."

"You mean..."

"I have no idea what I mean," I shrugged. "I've never read the guidebook for dating the opposite-sex equivalent of me."

"So you're not going to walk out the door after I give you head?"

"We're on a beach. It's literally impossible for me to walk out the door."

"I will bite your dick, you know..."

"Bad girl!" I bonked her nose with my dick to make the point. "Have you had that happen? You give head, then he leaves?"

"Yes."

"Did the guy know you have this, um... kinky streak?"

"No."

"Ah. I'm told that communication is kind of a key to healthy relationships. People can set expectations..."

"True," she shrugged. "So... maybe I kinda deserved it?"

"You slut..." I gently spanked her across those chipmunk cheeks with my dick. "You totally..." --slap-- "Deserved it..." --slap-- "Good thing..." --slap-- "I know..." --slap-- "What to expect."

She was giggling as I slipped my dick into that open, luscious mouth.

Her eyes closed, almost blissful, as she started working her way deeper and deeper down my shaft. This girl really had no gag reflex...

"So, Lizzy... That word... Slut..." Between us, it felt like a term of endearment, but I had to be sure. "Do you mind that I call you 'slut'?"

She, paused, considering it, then smiled at me. "I really like the way you say it. Thank you, though, for asking."

I brushed my fingers over those cheeks as my dick slid back between her lips. I watched her a moment, realizing the slutty perceptions were shifting. It was getting more personal. "So you're going to stay committed until the three-month mark, then you're going to blow some other guy?"