I Lost His Number

“But yeah, I’m happy,” he told me, the genuine warmth returning to his expression, lighting up his eyes. “I just can’t help but wonder sometimes, is all.”

“If there hadn’t been a mix-up?” I asked, throat feeling tight.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a long moment of silence between us. A very long, very heavy moment. I couldn’t help but wonderwhat if. What if I hadn’t passed out on Grant? What if I’d been able to experience his beautiful cock inside me? What if we’d woken up together the next morning, basking in the sunrise through the windows of the hotel room, his lips on my neck, kissing me awake, his hand raising my leg, opening me up, and his huge cock pushing inside me, the perfect beginning to a perfect day?

I was sitting next to my sister’s gorgeous and perfect boyfriend in the airport, and my panties were soaked with arousal.

Fucking hell.

Grant raised his eyebrows and broke through the tension, asked me what went down with Brad, why we’d broken up. I hadn’t spoken to him about it, and apparently Mel hadn’t either. I’d only been dating Brad for three months.

“Do you really want to hear this?” I asked him.

“Have you talked to anyone?”

I nodded. “Mel.”

Grant leaned towards me again, propping his elbow up on the armrest of his chair and cupping his chin in his palm. “Do you trust me?”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll be honest, that wasn’t exactly the answer I was hoping for.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” I stammered, waving my hand, wishing away the subtle look of hurt on his face. “I mean, trust you how? Trust you to do what?”

He smiled warmly, “To not judge you.”

I blinked at him, remembered how he hadn’t pressured me in the hotel room back in Dallas, telling me we didn’t have to do this - bythis, he meant have sex - that we could take our time. I remembered waking up, embarrassed, and kind of ashamed, and finding the sweet note he’d left me, that he wanted to see me again, so very surprising that he hadn’t made any snap judgments about me.

I nodded. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good,” he smiled again.

So, I told him.

*****

Two nights ago, Brad and I had been making out on my couch after a nice dinner, me in my tight dress and Brad in his slacks, his polo shirt on the floor next to my sandals. I hadn’t let him touch me beneath my panties yet, but had given him free reign to everything else, including my breasts. Okay, my mouth was off limits too, at least for his cock, but still…

*****

“Wait, what did he look like?” Grant asked me, jerking me out of my thoughts.

“Seriously?” I asked him, leaning away and crossing my arms over my chest, like he’d done moments ago, but it didn’t work as well for me on account of the breasts, so I just kind of fiddled with my arms until I could give him an exasperated look. “I tell you that I let a guy touch me everywhere but under my panties, and you ask me what he looked like?”

“What?” he chuckled, spreading his arms innocently. “I never got to meet him. Just curious, is all.”

I snorted and asked, “Mel never told you?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, you know Mel. Terrible at describing people.”

He had a really good point. After all, when Melanie had met him, and he’d thought she was me, she later described what I looked like to him, and it was such a vague description that he hadn’t connected the dots thatI was her sister. At that point, he thought Melanie and I were just two strangers that looked a lot alike.

“Why do you really want to know?” I asked.

Grant gave me a long soulful look. You know, one of those looks that seems to go right through to the heart of you? Yeah, that.

He shrugged a shoulder and said quietly, “Maybe I just want to know what kind of man it takes to win your heart.”

Your kind of man, you jackass, I wanted to say. I didn’t, of course.

“Fine,” I huffed. “Tall, blonde hair, kinda curly…”

“Taller than me?” Grant interrupted.

His expression was relaxed, casual, but his limbs had stiffened, and I could see something in his eyes; jealousy. It made me smile.

“No, shorter,” I shook my head, and he smiled happily. “But still tall for me.”

“You are pretty tiny,” he winked.

“From what you remember?” I teased back, feeling strangely playful just then, and remembering quite clearly how wonderful his huge hands had felt on me, his lovely mouth completely closing over me, down there, his big body covering mine, just before he could...

His expression fell, dragging me out of my memories, and I knew in an instant that I shouldn’t have said that.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, then smiled kind of sadly, and he murmured, “Besides, yes, like I remember.”

I rattled off the rest of Brad’s description, “Blue eyes, lean build, a nice eight-pack…”

“Eight-pack?” he exclaimed.

I chuckled, but managed to pull off a frown too. “Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

“Sorry, sorry, go ahead,” he gestured.

*****

At the time, I’d had my hand stuffed down Brad’s slacks, belt undone and fly open. If I wasn’t going to let him go any farther with me, the least I could do was help him relieve some of his pent up frustration. Besides, to be honest, Brad had a nice cock. Of course, my dream cock was now firmly devoted to my sister, but hey, a girl had to make do without. Brad’s wasn’t as thick as Grant’s had been, but it was longer than average, if a bit on the narrow side. I stroked my hand up and down his length, the tip of him dribbling precum into my palm, making him nice and slick.

I don’t know why, really couldn’t explain it to you if I tried, but the feel and sight of a man so excited that his cock literally drools precum just flat does it for me.

“Jesus, Lydia,” Brad groaned, humping his erection back and forth through my hand, nibbling at my throat. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

I giggled and gave him a firm upstroke, more precum dribbling into my palm. I was pretty sure he was about to blow.

“Take your pants off,” I told him.

Brad pushed up onto his arms above me, and he looked shocked. “Seriously?”

“Unless you wanna make a mess of those nice slacks,” I grinned.

In a flash, he jumped up from the couch, kicked off his shoes, yanked off his socks, then his pants. He hooked his thumbs into his boxers, then stopped and looked at me, quirking an eyebrow in question.

“Up to you,” I said, sitting up and peeling my dress up my body to throw it aside, leaving me in dark blue bra and panties. Reaching up behind me, I unsnapped my bra and peeled it off, dropping it onto the floor. “But I’m not ruiningmy clothes.”

“Oh, hell yes,” he grinned and pushed his boxers down, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach. No, it wasn’t perfect, but it really was quite nice.

While he kicked his boxers off, I scooted onto the floor and lay down, holding my hand out to him. Brad practically threw himself on top of me, settling between my legs. His mouth closed over mine and he kissed me deeply, one hand gliding down my side to my hip, surprising me that he passed over fondling my bare breasts.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed against my mouth, sliding his palm under me, cupping my behind. When I reached down between us and took his hard length in my hand, he twitched powerfully and groaned, “Son of a...goddamn, Lydia.”

I smiled against his mouth, loving the feeling of power I had over him, that I could do anything I wanted to him, manipulate him, control him.

“You like my little hand on your big cock, baby?” I cooed. Sure, it wasn’t really big. I’d seen big, had my hands on big, had almost fucked big, but as I said, Brad’s was still quite nice.

“Oh, fuck yes, I do,” he groaned loudly.

Brad started to hump his cock through my hand again, and he trailed kisses down my jaw and neck. Feeling brave and beautiful, I turned my hand over and pressed the shaft of him down against my wet panties, so that he was now thrusting his cock back and forth over my clit.

“You’re so hot, baby,” he moaned, taking the hint and adjusting his hips so that he could thrust back and forth against me on his own.

“You might have something to do with that,” I teased, running my hands down his sides and grasping his hips, the back and forth of his hard shaft against my clit sending sparks up and down my body, tightening my insides.

Brad began to mutter and curse softly, the long shaft of him rubbing, stroking, throbbing, the end of him steadily dribbling precum onto my belly. His gaze locked with mine, and he took a deep gasping breath, maybe because of something he saw. I wanted to fuck him. I really did, but not just yet. My mind and heart wanted to know him better, but my body was telling the rest of me to go piss on a live wire and get this show on the road.

With a growl, Brad leaned down and locked his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply, tongue plunging into my mouth, dimly aware that his hand had left my thigh. He resumed stroking his hard length up and down my cleft, hand clawing at my thigh. I was really getting into it, moving my pelvis, humping back against his thrusts, increasing the pressure, feeling the tingling sensation building inside me, the heat, the clenching, the tightening of impending release.

Suddenly, and without warning, I felt his fingers slide under my panties and find my very wet center.

“Brad,” I gasped, leaning up into him, one hand pushing at this shoulder.

“You’re so fucking wet, Lydia,” he breathed, nipping at my ear.

“Brad, wait,” I moaned, losing my train of thought when he slid a finger inside me, my insides clenching down so tightly that his one single finger felt like a fucking baseball bat.

I pushed against his shoulder again, but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t getting off me. What he was doing was against the rules, but felt so very good. Why wasn’t he getting off me?

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, but before I could answer, he thrust his finger deep inside me and curled it up and towards him, stroking that sweet spot of heaven on my upper wall.

“God!” I groaned, and realized that while I was pushing against his shoulder, my other hand was on his back, pulling me down to me, my own body betraying me.

“Tell me to stop, Lydia, and I’ll stop,” he goaded, teasing my body, stroking that spot, making me fuck my juicy cunt onto his finger. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked again.

Yes. Yes! I did want him to stop, because it felt so good, what he was doing to me, and I knew that if he kept it up, I might give in to him, give in to anything he wanted, because my body didn’tever want him to stop.I can do this, I told myself. And I believed it. I could give in to this one thing, let him bring me with his skillful fingers, and while I wasn’t willing to go all the way with him, I could certainly repay him for the pleasure he was giving me while still respecting the line that I wasn’t willing to cross.

“No,” I whimpered in reply, shivering with delight, sinking my teeth into him where his neck met his shoulder.

Brad groaned. “Oh, I was so hoping you’d say that.”

Everything happened so fast. I felt him move above me, his finger slide out of me to pull my panties aside, the tip of his dripping cock press into my folds, then he pushed inside me, just a little, just enough for the head of his cock to open me up and begin to slide into me, but also just enough to rip me free of my addled senses.

“No!” I screamed, pushing on his chest with both hands with every ounce of strength I had, feeling his cockhead slip out of me.

Brad fell onto his side and yelled, “What the fuck, Lydia?”

I jumped up to my feet and stormed out of the living room, yelling at him over my shoulder, “What the fuck? What thefuck do you think, Brad?”

I stomped into my room, yanked a big tee shirt out of my dresser and jerked it over my head. It fell past my ass just as Brad stopped in the doorway to my room, looking both embarrassed and furious.

“What the hell did I do wrong?” he asked through his teeth.

“Did I say you could fuck me?” I barked, closing the distance in two long strides and stabbing my finger into his chest, and he actually had the audacity to slap my wrist aside, hard.

“I asked you if you wanted me to stop, Lydia,” he yelled, looming over me, hands gripping the door frame and blocking my exit. “I fucking asked you!”

“You were fingering me, asshole, not fucking me!” I yelled back, rubbing my sore wrist, which he didn’t even seemed to realized he’d hurt. “Itold you I wanted to wait!”

“We’ve been dating for three fucking months!” he shouted, then turned away from me and combed his fingers back through his hair. He spun back, still angry, but no longer yelling. “What the hell are you so afraid of?”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not about fear, Brad. It’s about me not wanting to casually fuck every guy I come across.”

He blinked at me in confusion, then said, “So, you what...you want to make love?”

Something in this tone made me feel embarrassed, despite knowing there wasn’t anything wrong with what I wanted. Was there? And was that what I really wanted? And it hit me, that I could see myself fucking Brad, but not making love. There was only one person that came to my mind when I thought of both, making love and fucking, and it wasn’t Brad.

I dropped my gaze to his chest, unable to look him in the eye, and I nodded.

He sighed, then muttered, “Yeah, well, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”

That hurt, a lot more than I thought it would. I liked Brad. I really did. He was fun, nice, intelligent. He had a great sense of humor. He was attractive, and that never hurt. Sure, we hadn’t grown as close as I’d hoped we would, but still, I’d thought we had a chance.

But maybe we didn’t, because there was thing I knew with certainty. In that hotel room in Dallas, Grant could have pressured me, manipulated my body so masterfully, persuaded me to go as far as he wanted, and could have even taken advantage of me when I’d passed out. But he hadn’t. He’d been patient, but more importantly, he’d been respectful.

It wasn’t even as simple as all that though. I was measuring Brad against a standard defined by a man that didn’t even belong to me. It wasn’t fair, to either of us. I’d learned that life wasn’t fair when I dropped what as possibly the most important phone number in my life onto the hotel room floor.

“You should go,” I murmured.

“Fine,” he snorted derisively, heading down the hall to get dressed.

I waited by the front door and opened it for him when he came over to me. Brad fished his keys out of his pocket and gave me a bitter look.

“Try not to freeze out the next guy you pick,” he told me, then he left.

*****

“Lydia,” Grant said softly, shaking his head and setting his hand over mine on the armrest. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged a shoulder and gave him a weak grin, “Whatever. He was a jerk.”

“Prick,” he corrected, lifting my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles. “He was a prick, and you deserve much better than that.”

“Thanks,” I told him, trying not to cry. Granted, it wasn’t that hard, since I generally don’t cry over jerks - or pricks - but the memory still stung a bit. So I just sat there and took comfort from Grant, my knuckles still against his soft lips.

Melanie’s sudden arrival made both of us jump.

“Hey, quit flirting with my sister, you twat,” she smirked down at Grant.

He laughed and set his hand on Melanie’s thigh after she’d taken a seat beside him. “Lydia was just telling me about Brad.”

“Fuck him,” Melanie replied.

Grant and I both laughed.

An hour and a half later, we were waiting to board the plane, the line moving slowly. Grant was in front of me, and Melanie behind me, chatting it up with a girl around our age. She was with her new husband, on their way to Maui for their honeymoon. When we reached our assigned seats, Grant took our carry-on bags and put them in the storage compartments above us. I glanced behind me to see that Melanie had fallen back a bit to finish her conversation with the newlyweds.

Suddenly, Grant’s mouth was right beside my ear.

“Dream cock, huh?” he whispered, breath warm, voice low, deep.

I shivered, flushed bright red from chest to forehead. Had I said that? I’d thought it, while recounting what happened with Brad, but had I actuallysaid that? Oh, Christ. Somehow, I managed to look up at him, but doing so put my mouth temptingly close to his.

Grant smiled and his fingertips brushed against my wrist, “Some dreams never change.”

I just blinked at him, watching him as he took his seat, wondering exactly what he meant by that.

Hours later, we were in Maui, and by that point, I was tired and well on my way to getting depressed. I’d spent almost the entire flight replaying the memory of my one night with Grant over and over and over, so I was pretty happy to see our suite. It was huge, basically an apartment. We had two rooms, separated by a big lounge with a huge flat-screen TV and a beautiful pool table, a full size kitchen off to the side, and a balcony that ran the entire length of the suite, affording a lovely view of the ocean. After dropping off our stuff in our rooms, we met up in the resort bar for a drink. I ordered a second and took it to my room, telling them goodnight.

I took a quick shower, draped a soft bathrobe around me and sipped at my drink on the balcony, lounging in a chair with my feet propped up on another. But my peace didn’t last long, because no sooner had I settled in did I hear what was going on at the other end of the balcony, Melanie’s cries of ecstasy and delight, punching right through the sliding glass door to their room.

Part of me wanted to cry, but another part of me, maybe the bigger, grown up part, smiled for my friend, Grant.

Chapter 5

The swollen tip of Grant’s cock was right at my opening, threatening to draw out of me completely. His hands had tightened on my waist, holding me securely in his strong grip. Only a moment ago, he’d pushed his gloriously hard length farther inside me than anyone or anything had ever gone, and held himself firm and deep for a while, only to slowly draw almost completely out of me. Now he held himself still behind me, the wide warm end of him just inside me.

I wanted to move, or him to move, anything but stay still. I wanted to beg, plead, anything to get him to just fucking move. But I couldn’t move, and I for sure as shit couldn’t speak, not without revealing the unintentional charade.

I felt his hands on my waist relax, then one smooth up my spine, gently, lovingly, and finally, his beautiful cock pushed back inside me, slowly, every last delicious inch of him spreading me open. When he was once more fully sheathed inside me, he caressed every inch of me that he could reach with his hands, and I felt like a sinful goddess, worshiped.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

And then he froze. I couldn’t move, but I froze too. I didn’t even breathe.

I’d heard him say that before, only once, back in Dallas. I’d been holding his lovely cock in my bare hand, and he’d just taken my dress off and seen me in all my naked glory. He’d made me feel so beautiful then, and he did now, except now there was also a lace of bitterness in me, envy, jealousy. Because right now, as far as Grant knew, he had his cock stuffed inside of Melanie, not me.

His hands stopped moving, one on my back, the other on my hip. He drew out of me, slowly, dragging the fat end of him down my burning cunt, until once more he stopped just inside of my opening. I wanted to tell him it was me, that it was okay, what he’d said, that I loved what he’d said, adored it, adored him. I wanted to tell him to keep fucking me, to fuck me for as long as he wanted, as often as he wanted. I wanted to tell him that I was his, that I belonged to him, to do with as he pleased, anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, because he owned me.