Pavlovian Reaction

"Oh, kind of like hanging out with a narcissistic capitalist who thinks she has enough knowledge to debate over any subject anyone brings up and come out on top. But then again both are -- you, so yeah, used to it already." It was meant as a joke, and was taken by her as a joke, but it wasn't entirely untrue. "But yeah, is that all? I mean, they won't bother you any more about the whole 0.2 grams thing?"

"Kind of. I mean, I'm pretty sure they started the whole thing with the goal of opening a file for me. It's a ridiculously small amount to go through all that trouble for. I'm sure someone tipped them off that I was selling and they wanted to keep an eye on me and maybe shake me up a little bit, I don't know. Either way, there's some youth program that they started, the elections are coming up, so they must look like they're doing something. They have a bunch of 'delinquents' go to group therapy or something and find that life is blah blah blah, but yeah, I have to go to that. Well, I don't really have to, per se, but I believe that it will help my case in the future, so I'm going to give it a try. Besides, the groups meet twice weekly and fit perfectly with the class schedule," I rolled my eyes at this, as if the class schedule meant anything to either of us, "so it's not that much of an effort."

I don't believe she talked this much during the whole time we've known each other. I'm usually the one that talks and she's the one that listens. She participates equally in the conversation when we talk about something serious, or debate about something, but when it's small talk I'm the one that talks most of the time. Her talking lulled me, along with the beer, and she was beginning to look softer and softer.

"You know, I don't mind you staring at me, by all means go ahead, but don't just leave it at that." She smiled, and I shook my head dismissively, in an "oh please, as if I would ever do such a thing" manner.

We continued to talk and laugh, about her arrest and other things, and my arousal didn't seem to grow beyond a 'wouldn't mind kissing' line from that point. However, we kept on drinking and were noticeably tipsy, before 4 pm even. It was a small miracle that the pub was even open at that time, but they served decent coffee as well, so it paid to open up earlier than what was standard for pubs. We were almost alone in the place, and we were very well hidden in the corner that we were sitting in. Not even the waiters saw us clearly from the bar, and it was very tempting to abuse that fact and kiss her.

It soon became obvious that I wasn't the only one that noticed that we were in a good strategic position. She placed two fingers on my jawline, leaned in, turned my head towards hers, and kissed me. Her lips felt nice, softer than usual, and the warmth felt good on my own lips. I returned just as softly, and we exchanged a few unusually childish kisses before she backed off again, and licked her lips. She licked them in such a way that it was obvious that she was baiting me to come closer and kiss her, and it wasn't very hard to convince me to do that. So we began our, now traditional, hooking up when drunk process.

We behaved nicely though, mostly anyway, because we were in a public place after all, and none of us liked traumatizing random people and making them upset. That however didn't stop me from having both of my hands under her T-shirt at some point, tracing her entire tummy, back, and braless breasts. I suppose that's the advantage of having smaller breasts -- no bra needed. As soon as I felt her nipple push against my palm I realized I hadn't had sex in two months. In fact, the last time I did have sex was with Pris herself. Although there were three other people on the large bed next to us, some sleeping some probably not, but no one complained.

At the moment I simply enjoyed the queer mix of softness and firmness of her breast in my palm. I gently squeezed her nipple between the base of my forefinger and thumb, which induced a small gasp from her and I followed that up with a firm kiss. I kept playing with her left nipple, slightly twisting, squeezing, pulling, and she seemed to wriggle more with each new motion. The fact that her wriggling innocently included whichever part of her leg to rub against me, didn't help with my wish to remain civilized.

She stopped kissing me, looked at me, with moist, barely parted lips, and asked whether I would like to continue this at her place. I did think about it for a short while, since I wasn't sure whether the mood would hold until we got there, but I decided that the worst that could happen was that we would go to her place and get high if nothing else. Besides, the increasing throbbing between my legs, not at all hindered by her thigh still firmly placed there, was doing it's best to convince me to say yes.

So I did, and in less than twenty minutes I had two of my fingers quickly going in and out of her, using my other hand to hold her pressed against the bed, and as leverage to move the first hand fast enough. She usually came relatively quickly, provided I had the stamina to fuck her fast enough, because fingerblasting was the only thing that could make her have an orgasm. She liked almost every type of contact with her pussy, from hot, cold, rough, soft, plastic or flesh, didn't matter, but she could only finish properly if she was being internally assaulted. Everything else either left her frustrated and without an orgasm, or gave her an orgasm too weak to satisfy her, so anyone with her ended up fucking her roughly anyway.

I didn't mind that, in fact I rather enjoyed it, provided that my hand could keep up with her needs, since she had the habit of squeezing it with her thighs whenever she was close. That made it hard to keep moving, not to mention move as quickly as she wanted.

Speaking of muscle stamina, my right forearm was visibly stronger than my left, the innocent bystander would conclude that I was probably a recreational tennis player or something, but the truth was that I was incapable of fucking, or of any coherent movement in fact, with my left hand; so my right had to do all the heavy lifting.

Pris loved rougher treatment during sex to accompany the style of fucking. Whether it included holding her neck, biting, pinching, whatever, that didn't matter either, just as long as I was in no way romantic or sweet while we were having sex. So there I was, my forearm starting to ache from the third consecutive orgasm I was about to provide her with, when I felt her walls squeeze my fingers and her thighs do the same with my hand. She grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me closer, holding firmly as she bucked her hips against my hand, her breathing and light moaning coming to a high, until finally slowing down and relaxing.

I didn't move, I didn't even take my fingers out of her, and gave her time to catch her breath, feeling her walls still tremble slightly against my fingers. I kissed and nibbled on her neck, supporting myself with my other hand. She took a deep breath, pushed me off of her and onto my back, and straddled my waist. She was flushed. Her cheeks were red, and so was her chest on the place where I placed my hand to hold her down.

She looked amazing, sitting there. The curtains were drawn and all the light in the room came from the dim warm white one of the hallway. The angle of that light accented her features beautifully, and I couldn't help wanting to fuck her again. I made a move toward that goal, sitting up, with her still on me, and wrapping my hand around her waist in order to ease her back down on the bed. She pushed me back, took both of my hands and held them over my head.

"Nope. My turn."

I protested at first, because I was more in the mood to be the provider again, but she held my hands firmly in place as she nibbled and licked her way as low as possible without releasing them. Giving extra attention to my breasts, and testing how rough she could be with each nipple before I started to complain. When she couldn't go any lower without releasing my hands, all the will to protest was already long gone, and I was eager to let her continue with what she was doing. She decided to spend an unusually long amount of time teasing me by nibbling on my thighs and outer lips, seeming all too happy to keep on doing that for the next hour.

I tried to ask her nicely to continue by moving my hips up toward her face, trying to meet her tongue, but she moved away just enough to be out of my reach, and didn't proceed with her teasing until I placed my hips back on the bed. The whole thing was becoming increasingly frustrating, and I could feel my wetness start to seep in between my cheeks.

My pussy always reacted, or should I say - OVER-reacted, to everything. I was wet when there was no need or cause for me to be, and dripping as soon as there was a need or cause. It was a double edged blade however, since although I was always ready for sex, I was also ready for sex when there was no sex to be had, and that usually left me with an awkward 'no friction' situation when walking that I didn't like.

My partners usually enjoyed that immensely, especially those who enjoyed oral sex, and took pride in making me soaked. Which, I realized, was what Pris was doing - seeing how wet she could make me. Looking down and seeing her smug, although obviously horny, face confirmed that suspicion.

I grunted, reached down to grab the back of her head, and pushed her into my pussy. The second her lips touched me, she parted them, gently sucked my clit in, and started to move her tongue over it. This made me let go of her head just so I could get a hold of something else to keep myself steady, for she found just the right spot on her first try. Unlike her - I preferred a steady and constant rhythm, at least when it came to my clit, it didn't matter how fast it was, as long as it was constant and didn't change abruptly, I was good to go.

If someone wanted to make me cum just by entering me, they would need to again find a steady, but fast rhythm and be ready for a hard burst towards the end. She knew all this, since we talked about sex a lot, and decided to stick with what she started with, my clit lightly sucked in between her lips, and her tongue moving over it in a moderate pace. She also decided to just put her fingers in me, and keep them there, which for some reason noticeably sped up the arrival of my orgasm. I felt that familiar build up happening, laced my fingers through her hair, tried to keep on breathing, and held her head down, for fear that she may decide to stop and tease me more. She didn't, and dutifully kept doing what she was until I reached up to grab the bedpost behind my head and arch my back as a surge of electricity and warmth emerged from my groin and went through my body.

The orgasm was especially nice and lasted longer than usual for some reason, and left me panting afterwards. She continued to move her tongue slowly from my opening to my clit, happily lapping up the juices my pussy was still making in abundance. I continued to lie there, with my eyes closed, breathing slowly and enjoying the dull tingling still present in my groin, while Pris planted soft kisses on my tummy.

Slowly the thought "What now?" occurred to me, since I was relatively sober now, and Pris wasn't the type to cuddle after sex. I was definitely a cuddler, but it wasn't something I couldn't do without.

Besides, we were very different when it came to our views on relationships. I had three relatively long ones, among random hookups, the relationships ranging from 5 months to a year and a half. I was strictly monogamous in them, until the end of the last relationship I had, when I cheated on my girlfriend with -- surprise, surprise -- Pris, on a bed with three other people in it. My girlfriend, unsurprisingly, didn't like that very much, and decided that enough was enough and promptly broke up with me. Pris felt bad because of it for a little while, but we went on hanging out just the same soon after.

Pris had, on the last count, slept with eleven women, none of whom she was in a relationship with, and a lot of them were just one time things. She didn't have anything against emotions and commitment (or so she said) but she took them very seriously and didn't want to do something like that with just anyone. Also she was very much against monogamy, and believed that everyone should be allowed to fuck other people while in a relationship, as long as he/she only had actual feelings for, and respected, their partner.

I agreed, ideologically, but from experience knew that jealousy and insecurity wouldn't allow for such a thing in most cases. Also most people saw "respecting your partner" and "fucking other people" as two highly irreconcilable ideas.

That's not to say that I didn't feel a connection with Pris, I was drawn to her ever since we met, I wouldn't have allowed myself to cheat on my girlfriend otherwise. However, I couldn't comfortably put her in any category, I didn't consider her a friend with benefits, nor did I consider her as a possible girlfriend.

So I dismissed the idea of cuddling, looked at her and said, "Coffee?"

She nodded and rolled off of me, after planting another kiss where the beginning of my pubic hair should have been. She made some coffee and brought it back to bed. We chatted, drank that same coffee, smoked, later talked a bit more about the 'delinquent' group therapy thing that was to have its first meeting tomorrow, and about our opinion on the subject. I was starting to get horny again, since we were both in just our underwear. I tried to put on my bra, given that being without it made me feel more naked than being without underwear, but she didn't let me. I also realized that I felt more naked while wearing only my socks, than while wearing nothing at all. I told this to Pris. She laughed.

"Actually... yeah, I think I feel the same. I suppose that having only socks on makes you feel like you shouldn't be naked in the first place, while without socks it's just - naked."

She squeezed one of my boobs, as if to emphasize that I was, in fact, naked, and without socks even. Doing so seemed to inspire her to do it again, and within seconds her lips were around one of my nipples and sucking. It was gentle sucking at first but became progressively harder, and in the process her other hand found its way to my free breast and started playing with it. Nipples being a very sensitive and erogenous place on my body, I soon turned to wrap my legs around her, and pull her with me as I lay back on the bed.

***

That night I kept tossing around in bed, and couldn't sleep. It was out of character for me, because I usually just fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, or as soon as I finished masturbating, if I was in the mood for that. But I was feeling restless.

Pris immediately came to my mind as the potential reason, given that nothing else seemed to be nearly as exciting as her in my life, or at least, nothing else was more exciting than usual. I considered that idea for a while. I didn't have any strong feelings toward her that I was conscious of. I was aware that she was hot, smart, and popular. Also that she was interesting and that the sex was pretty good, even when I wasn't completely drunk.

But I wasn't in love, nor did she give me a tingling feeling anywhere other than my groin. So maybe it wasn't her, maybe it was something that she reminded me of, or that I wish was present in our "relationship". Either way, I was feeling anxious, and I didn't know what to do about it. So I tried to masturbate and take my mind off the anxiety, and after nearly an hour of frustrated rubbing I managed to roll over a barely exciting hill that I decided to call an orgasm. Although the orgasm itself didn't drain my energy, getting to it did, and I was soon asleep.

Something very similar to that day happened the day after - I arrived to class on time, met Pris outside, and decided to not go that same class that I arrived on time to. We didn't go drinking in a pub that time, though. Instead we decided to buy a bottle of gin, and a bottle of bitter lemon soda and mix those two in a park nearby. Yes, apparently I am the type of person who drinks gin and bitter lemon at 4 pm in a park. We went slowly though, and were soon joined by some other colleagues that saw us while passing by. While I knew them by sight, I didn't know much else about them. Pris was better acquainted with them than me, and the conversation soon started flowing easily again.

"So you all know about that whole business with the cops I found myself in the other day... It has literally been the highlight of my life so far, so of course everyone knows about it. I was at that whole group thing this morning and my God..." she paused for emphasis, and placed her hand dramatically on her chest "The woman, some psychologist/psychiatrist whatever, leading that group thing was fucking hot as fuck. And she was that hot older woman type, educated, lean, well dressed, calm and friendly and my God did I get turned on when she started using long words."

She giggled and continued "Seriously though, she did her best but the whole thing was fucked to begin with, and she seemed perfectly aware of that. She said so in a way, when she mentioned how she'd rather work with each of us individually than as a group, that the whole group thing should come later, after we're all comfortable with her or whatever. And damn would I love to get 'individually comfortable' with her! Some of us there have a 'mandatory' 6 attendances before we can say 'hey, I tried your program, see what a good sport I am?', so I'll be seeing more of her hopefully."

I was puzzled for a moment, trying to figure out whether I felt any sign of jealousy or not, and couldn't decide either way. I also couldn't decide whether she was trying to show me that whatever we had going on wasn't serious, by talking so emphatically about another woman. I decided not to think about it and simply took the bait and said, "Hey, you have that group thing twice a week, right? Why don't I go with you next time? I was always curious to see how those things worked, and besides, I've always disliked psychologists, so maybe a hot one would persuade me that they're not all that bad." It sounded just as pathetic as it seems, and I wasn't even jealous to begin with.

Pris seemed to internally roll her eyes at the idea of me going there out of jealousy, but agreed to take me next time. The group was of an open type, you just had to fill out a form at least a day in advance, but that was all that you needed to do in order to get admitted.

I took out my phone, filled the application form in a few minutes and said, "There." with a slightly wounded tone in my voice. I felt a need to be passive-aggressive towards Pris, and barely kept myself from being so. After a few minutes of mild awkwardness between me and her everything fell back into place. The bottle of gin didn't hit too hard when split among four people, so we were all just slightly tipsy and in good spirits.

My phone buzzed in the middle of someone's story about how they went bungee jumping on acid. I checked it afterwards, and saw that I had an email from the PR of some public firm or the other, saying that they were happy that I showed interest in their program, etcetera. For a moment I had no idea what the mail was about, but soon realized that it was the youth group thing. I was already regretting the fact that I had applied. I didn't feel like going to the other side of town for something that I was sure was a waste of time just so I could be passive-aggressive to a girl I didn't even like in a way that enticed passive-aggressive behavior. However, I felt socially compelled to go, because the email, although an obvious copy-paste job with just the name of the recipient changed to fit mine, was very cheerful and happy that I showed interest in their program.