I Never Saw It Coming...

Our eyes made contact and I held my breath and she dropped her face to my crotch, mouthing over my clothed package. I ran my fingers through her hair and clutched it atop her head, allowing me to see clearly as she nibbled the length of my shaft. Her hands clawed down my chest again, this time stopping at my waistband, pulling the elastic, and exposing my eager member. With little hesitation she wrapped her hands around it's thickness, bringing to her lips and licking under the head. She began bobbing up and down, taking me deep into her throat while kneading my balls. I nearly came as she looked up at me, a hint of naughtiness in her hazel eyes as she deftly controlled my cock.

The buildup was so intense that I was really struggling to keep myself contained. I was quickly growing close, trying everything I could not to finish, our eyes still locked. I gently pulled on her hair and grabbed her hand from my chest, drawing her up to my desperate lips. Our tongues tangled together as her beautiful tits tickled against my body. She broke free from my mouth, immediately sliding back down to squeeze me between her tan-lined highlighted bosom. She pinched her nipples and lifted herself up and down my saliva coated dick sending ripples of excitement through my body. I had to stop her before I came, so I gripped her wrists and stood her up with me, grabbing her soft ass and pulling her body against mine.

We kissed as her arms wrapped around my neck and I dropped my thumbs down the sides of her panties, pulling them past her hips as I massaged her beautiful rear end. She stepped out of them, kicking them to the side and returning her lips to mine. She stopped mid-kiss, panting into my open mouth and asked me to fuck her. Not so fast Lauren, I had other plans.

I turned her to the couch, laying her down, and dropping to my knees on the other end. I lifted her legs and dove mouth first into her swollen hilt. Her little racing stripe tickled my nose as I took her voluptuous vulva into my mouth. She dug her nails into my scalp as I sucked and licked her deeply. Her delicious juices flowed down my chin as my fingers found their way to her opening. My tongue flicked her clit while I began driving two fingers deep inside of her. She quivered and moaned as I massaged her G-spot and tongued her button in unison. She shook violently as she screamed her orgasm, pulling my hair so hard I thought my scalp was going to separate.

As her body continued to tremble and the cream ran to my palm, she begged me to fuck her. I stood up, wiped her from my chin and smeared the mixture over the head of my cock. I laid onto her, my cock effortless gliding into her burning hot canal. She grabbed my face and kissed me, licking herself from my mouth before biting on my lips. I buried my cock as far as I could, feeling every single ripple of her little pussy as I slid in and out. Her fingernails dug into my back and scratched my ass as my rhythm increased and my body slapped against her. I rose up off of her, stared into her eyes and told her I was going to cum. She begged me not to pull out; she wanted it deep inside of her. I immediately thought of her fantastic ass and how I wanted to fill her from behind. I pulled out, stood up and demanded she get on all fours. Quickly flipping over she lifted her ass into the air, offering it to me in all its round perfection.

My cock glided in as I gripped her hips, staring at her big pale ass surrounded by suntanned skin. Drawing myself in and out I watched as her pussy gripped my length, straining to keep me inside. Her pretty little pucker was prominent as I squeezed hard on her ass and spread her wide open. Within a few strokes I began cumming. I collapsed into her, forcing her down on the couch and spread my seed deep within her. She twisted her hips, flexed her legs together, and moaned as every spurt filled her depths.

Sitting back I watched as my cum spilled from her open pussy. She reached under and lightly rubbed around her clit, the semen running over her ruby red fingernails. I watched her play with herself for a minute before she rolled to her side and asked me for something to clean up with. Returning from the bathroom with a towel, we sat in silence as she cleaned herself up and started gathering her clothes. I followed suit, pulling my boxers on and stepping into my shorts, hoping she was ok. For the first time since Italy, I had fucked a woman and actually cared about how she felt. This time, however, I felt a certain calm I hadn't felt in a very long time. Regardless of the offensive circumstances, I was at peace instead of being deranged.

With her fully clothed and seemingly moving towards the door, I broke the silence and asked if she was ok. She said she was, but I could tell she wasn't. I asked her if she wanted to talk, but she opened the door to the setting sun and left without making another sound. I knew she regretted it and I began to reciprocate. I thought about how nice Pat had been to me and how I would have felt if someone had done this with Meagan when we were having a hard time. I sat in the darkness for a couple of hours, finishing the bottle of tequila and feeling bad for myself.

I didn't hear from either of them until the following week when there was a knock at my door early one morning. The door slammed into my toes, running over the top of my foot, hitting me in the face, and knocking me back as Pat barged in, screaming incoherently. Of course, I knew exactly what he was on about, but had no time to react as he pounced on me and began punching me in the head. I blocked most of the shots, harkening back to my schoolyard days, the last time I had been in a fight. He wailed and cried as his strikes became more labored and I was able to squirm out from underneath him. He sat in a heap as I scrambled away, trying to apologize as best I could while my heart beat from my chest. He pulled himself together a moment later, spit on me and stormed out the door.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge before I got the peroxide from the cabinet. I pulled what was left of my big toenail off and finished the beer as I rinsed my wound. Wrapping my toes with a sock and putting another one on top of it, I limped to the fridge, chugged a second beer, and cracked another. I hobbled to my car and drove to the drug store to buy some gauze and a wrap, then properly dressed my wound in the parking lot, taking time to throw the empty beer can in the trash can outside the door. Immediately I headed to the gas station, picked up a 12-pack and drowned myself again at the beach.

The next few weeks were a blur. I found myself again a drunken recluse, hiding in my apartment to avoid the shame of the world. I was a slobbering mess one morning when I realized where I was heading. I picked up the phone and called Dom, telling her what had happened, where I was, and that I knew I needed help. I knew what she was going to say and I guess I just needed to hear it. After hanging up the phone I pulled myself together and searched for a meeting. I finally found one that afternoon and instead of being a silent observer, I jumped to the front of the line and confessed my sins. Once I started, I couldn't stop, I poured myself into that room, to those strangers, completely taking over the entire meeting with my full history, start to finish. Everyone was very support and I left, now feeling my delayed hangover from drinking for almost a month straight.

I pulled into my favorite bar, promising myself I needed just one drink to kill the hangover and settle myself. I felt much better after dumping on all those strangers and I knew I was playing with fire. I sat there for a good 20 minutes before shutting the car off and walking inside. I sat in the corner booth just as I had many times before and when a cute little chubby waitress, fresh on her first day, approached it took every bit of courage to ask for a menu instead of ordering a drink. Wendy returned with a menu and asked if I wanted my usual. I glanced past her to the bar, where my favorite bartender, Rich, gave me a wave as he filled a glass.

I reflexively nodded and Wendy shuffled off, leaving me to my misery. A moment later she returned with a fresh beer and took my food order. I sat there, staring at the perfect head, watching each individual bubble disappear as the condensation dripped down the side of the glass. I thought of Dom and how disappointed she would be in me as the last bit of froth dissipated and Wendy returned with my burger. I finished my food, dropped a hundred on the table, and went home, proud of my strength over that beer.

Falling right back into my routine, I went out for all of meals and ended in that same booth with Wendy catering to me as best she could, ignoring the fact that I got a beer every time and never took a sip. I have to imagine the 500% tip every day helped. Weeks passed and the pain subsided while my routine provided me comfort. I began slowly opening myself up again to people I came into contact with, making small talk with servers and chatting here and there with Wendy. I had dropped something in the range of $4,000 on that table before she confronted me.

It started off normally enough with her brining me my check, walking away, and me pulling out my wallet. Before I could pull the fresh hundred out, she spun around and walked back to the table, plopping down across from me and looking into my eyes inquisitively.

"Hey, what's your deal?"

"Excuse me?"

"You came in here on my first day, left me a crazy tip, and you're in here every day doing the same thing. I talked to Rich and he said you're a regular, but the crazy tipping and not drinking your beer thing is new."

"I stopped drinking."

"I see that. What's up with all this money? What are you trying to pull?"

Her suspicions caught me off guard. I had no motives. I just found comfort in my routine and that tip had become part of it.

"I'm not trying to pull anything. I'm just struggling and that first day I didn't want to wait for the check, I just wanted to get out of there so I made sure there was more than enough to cover it and I left. Now... Now, I guess it's just something I do."

"Ok, I guess that's ok. I was just making sure you weren't trying to fuck me or anything. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate it, but I don't want you to start thinking I owe you something."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't even think of fucking you."

"Ouch, harsh."

"No, no. That's not what I meant. I just meant I'm not trying anything."

"Ok, no worries. I mean, you're basically paying for my tuition this coming fall so I'm not going to argue with you, but don't you have better things to spend your money on?"

Her words resonated with me. I was again starting to think about getting back to a normal life and in that moment, I realized I was acting anything, but normal. I barely showered. My hair was so long you couldn't even tell how short I used to keep it. My patchy beard made me look homeless and I had already learned how to eat without getting shit all over my mustache, which now tickled my lips. I stared across the table at Wendy, her pretty young face shining with all the potential in the world, giving me the life advice, I sorely needed. I told her I had some money so it wasn't a problem, but maybe she was right. I should start spending a little more on myself and start really planning for a future. As we talked, she opened up to me about her life, explaining she had just graduated high school and was planning on doing online classes at the community college for a couple of years before transferring to a bigger, private school, hopefully somewhere up north. She had all sorts of dreams and plans and I had nothing. She excused herself to take care of some other patrons and I pulled the pile of hundreds out of my wallet, dropped them on the table and left with a purpose.

The next day I broke from my routine and set about making a life. I woke up early, got online and began looking at the home listings in the area for something that excited me. I started with a reasonable budget, more acclimated to my previous lower middle-class lifestyle, but quickly found myself raising my standards. A few hours later I was on the phone with a realtor, setting up an appointment to check out a lakeside mansion about an hour and a half away. Shower, shave, clothes from the 'less dirty' pile and a haircut later, I was on my way. The second I pulled up; I knew this was it. The grounds were immaculate and the owner was offering it fully furnished, even throwing in the 2-year-old boat inside the boathouse for a nominal price. Talking with the agent, she indicated they had the house on the market a while and were anxious to sell.

My offer was well below asking, but still accepted within 24 hours. Being a cash buyer on a million-dollar home has its benefits. I contacted my finance manager who was excited to make the transfer, noting that in the last several years my investments were doing very well and I had significantly increased my wealth. Any thoughts of running out of money were now firmly put to rest as my simple lifestyle guaranteed it would never be an issue. The keys were in my hands just a few days later and I was eager to celebrate. I actually considered reaching out to Pat and Lauren, but quickly thought better of it and just called Dom. She was excited for me and despite my best efforts, continued to refuse any money, something I had grown quite accustomed to over the years.

The first night in that big empty house was very lonely. I investigated every nook and cranny, checked out the boat, and dangled my feet in the water all before the sun had set. As I sat inside my cavernous home, I realized I needed human contact. Not sex, just someone to sit with and talk to. I wanted a companion, a friend, and I didn't know anyone in the state that would give me the time of day. I tossed and turned all night, realizing the only person I had a real conversation with in months was that little chubby waitress, Wendy.

I woke up early the next morning and headed back to my old apartment, broke the lease and picked up lunch at my favorite mom and pop. I meandered around, knowing deep down I was going to end up at my bar with the only person I had spoken more than two words with in more than a month, Wendy. Into the bar, I found her friendly face greeting me as she cleared the drinks from an empty table. Just as I got settled into my booth, she dropped in across from me and quizzed me on where I had gone. She laughed when I asked if she missed me or just my tips and her response was perfect.

"Who are you again? There was this homeless guy I remember who used to tip me pretty well, but you look nothing like him."

She thanked me for the $700 I left the last time, informing me that if I ever thought about doing that again, she'd give it to an actual homeless guy because she, in no way, deserved something like that. The bar was slow and the conversation flowed easily. We talked for about a half hour before she had to help another table. When she returned with my beer and my burger, she informed me that she was paying for it and unless I wanted to "make a homeless guy's day", I had to "sit there and take it." Her sass was quite charming and I wondered if this girl, nearly half my age, was about to become a friend. I finished my burger, stared at my beer, and she came back a few times to check on me.

I still sat there well after I was done eating and she cleared my plate, hoping for another conversation. She brought me a water and I told her that I really liked talking to her. Smiling, she said I seemed like a really nice guy and had fun talking to me as well. My attention veered from that warm beer on the table as the minutes passed. I watched Wendy work her way around the bar, taking care of people left and right, and stopping for a second here and there to check on me to make sure I was ok. I didn't realize it, but I was on my third water when the dinner rush settled down and the bar began to clear.

Coming back from the bathroom, I found Wendy at my table, clearing the glasses. "Oh, I thought you left." I wasn't going anywhere. She was the only person I had to talk to, as silly as it was. I definitely pushed the comfort envelope when I said as much, but she handled it gracefully and went about her business. Another 45 minutes or so passed and I was working on my third hour sitting there, now buried in my phone. Wendy startled me slightly as she sat down across from me again.

"You sure you aren't trying to fuck me, cause I'm not gonna lie, I might be a little creeped out."

She laughed as she said it, but I realize there was some real truth in her grilling. I opened up a bit to her, not giving her the gory details, but explaining to her that I royally fucked up with the only people I knew in the area and she was the first 'friend' I had to talk to. She told me I was sweet and chatted with me for a few more minutes before returning to her shift. I didn't want to seem like a total weirdo so I got up and made my way for the door. The door hadn't closed behind me before I heard her behind me.

"Oh, you're my friend and you ain't even gonna say goodbye! No wonder you don't have any friends," she teased.

I smiled, gave her a waive and headed to my car. Back at my ridiculous home I reveled in her charm and the fact that maybe, just maybe, I had made an actual friend. I knew we probably had nothing in common, but she was friendly and fun, something I desperately needed. Venturing to that bar every evening was my new routine. I had it timed perfectly so I could end up there right as the dinner rush was fading and I could have some time to chat up Wendy. I went back to dropping my $100 on the table and sneaking out and she promised me that I was feeding the homeless the next day, every day.

I was disappointed the couple of times she wasn't there to greet me. When I mentioned it to her, she offered her number and said she'd let me know her schedule. Talks at the bar turned into late night silly text messages. I shared with her the adventures of some of my travels and she shared with me her dreams for the future. One night as I was leaving the bar, she asked me a question I wasn't prepared for. I stammered and stalled as the "why aren't you married yet?" rattled through my skull. The words that flowed from my mouth left me with guilt that drove me straight to the gas station and pick up a case of beer. I told her that I just hadn't found the right girl yet.

I had. I found the right girl. I found the perfect girl. She was my everything. She gave me a child. She was giving me two more. That piece of shit Jerry took her from me. Just as I started to believe I was over it, I was snapped right back into those memories, which by new had grown more clearly.

I was completely shit-faced when I pulled my car into the garage that night. 11 empty beer cans rolled around on the floorboards as I dragged myself from my seat. I reached back in and grabbed the half-empty cardboard carton, dropping it on the floor as I went inside and feeling pity for myself as I scrambled to scoop up the loose cans. I cracked one and sat on the couch, looking at my phone for the first time since I was inside the bar. Wendy had texted me right when I left, asking if I was ok. She could tell my answer was bullshit and the question bothered me.

I launched the full beer across the room putting a big hole in the wall and began sobbing. I curled up into a ball on the couch, crying for everything I once loved and woke up, still drunk and feeling like hell. I picked up my phone and looked back at the message from Wendy, struggling to find the words to send back to her. I sat there, my thumbs pouring over my history and my eyes welled with tears. I told her about my previous life and how it was taken from me. I told her how I struggled with alcohol ever since and how I've done a lot of things I wasn't proud of. Seconds after I sent that message, my phone was buzzing.