Unquenchable

After a loveless, childless marriage, which thankfully lasted only a few years, I divorced Dan, a worthless, cheating bastard and got on with my life. I had difficulty believing I was now an emancipated woman! I was young, goddammit, and still in my twenties, but not for much longer.

Dan-O had done such a number on me that for years I was allergic to serious relationships but, admittedly, I had, and still have, a very strong libido. Celibacy was not an option. Finding a man, or at least a life support system for a healthy cock to satisfy my needs, wasn't difficult, but the ecstasy didn't last long. After John or Robert or Michael or...what was his name, again?...took care of business, he'd be off and I'd find myself back at the Billiard Parlor, a local hangout for singles looking to meet up, trolling for fresh meat.

One particular Saturday night, which was also the day after my thirty-third birthday, I sat in my usual spot, a small, round table in a dark corner of the bar, sipping a drink with Nancy, my best friend, trying to stay sober enough to converse with any comers who approached our table. Such was our weekend habit for longer than I care to remember. Maybe it was because I was a year older than the last time I sat at that very same table, but that particular night was a little more depressing than usual.

"Over there." Nancy almost pointed at a prospect, but refrained. "He looks pretty good." She and I shared an office downtown at the Larson Insurance Agency as stenographers. We also shared the same personal situation, meaning we were both divorced, but still young-ish and needing attention. We met on the job and, after a few lunches, discovered how much we had in common, becoming fast friends.

"He's new, isn't he?" I squinted, trying to make out the tall figure on the other side of the dimly-lit room. Yes, I was nearsighted and wore glasses, but never at the Billiard Parlor, or "BP," as we regulars called it. The drink was stronger than I expected, made by a pale, skinny bartender with bottle-black hair who'd sampled me a few times in the past and was perhaps ready for more. Although he was barely second-string, I made a mental note regarding his availability. Mostly, I wanted to put my head on the table and close my eyes.

"He's been here before." Her eyes remaining on him, my plump, brunette girlfriend sipped her umbrellaed drink. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed. He's kinda cute."

"Honey." I gazed past heavy eyelids to look at her profile. By now, I was slurring my words, "They're all getting to be the same."

"Yeah, I guess." Nancy finished her drink and was now futzing with the little umbrella, vacantly staring at the tiny accessory as she slowly opened and closed it, her mind wandering. "Sad that there's nothing new under the sun."

I noticed her shiny, red-painted fingernails as she stroked the umbrella's handle up and down. In my polluted state of mind, it looked like she was jerking it off, just like a slender, little penis. She gazed at me with her dark, doe-like eyes.

"Don't you hate it when you can remember their cocks, but not their faces?"

I merely chuckled, downing the rest of my drink in a single gulp, then scanned the smoky room, filled with the aural churn of a hundred or so voices of both sexes, all seeking companionship, if only for the night. Both ragged billiard tables were occupied by gents trying to show off their social and sporting skills, or lack of them. The clack of balls connecting was followed by the high-pitched twittering of a woman pretending to be impressed.

I gripped the table's edge as my surroundings shifted a bit. Oh, yeah, now I had a full buzz going! There was no way I could stay awake until the bartender got off at 2:30. Disgusted, I pushed away from the table, chair squeaking.

"Let's blow this fucking joint."

"You said it, sister." A familiar exchange that was becoming more and more common as weekend blurred into weekend. Nancy and I held each other steady as we staggered out to her blue Chevy Nova. We took turns driving each weekend and it was her turn.

I leaned against the passenger-side door, forehead resting on the cool metal roof, as she circled around to the driver's side. She pulled a wad of jangly keys from her purse. I listened as metal clinked against metal as she looked at each one closely in the low light for much too long.

"Too many goddamn keys for a single woman," I murmured to the gravel.

"Hush, now." She inserted a small, silver key into round lock, twisting it. Pulling the door open, she slid into the driver's seat. I got a nice glimpse of her ample breasts as her thumb and forefinger pulled up on the silver plastic shaft allowing me entry, forcing a drunken smile.

Creamy goodness.

Nancy pulled me onto the firm bench seat, buckling my seat belt with a loud click. She buckled herself, turning the ignition.

"I'm sorry." My face pressed against the door glass as we left the dim, multicolored fluorescent glow of the BP parking lot, the subdued roar of the car's V8 rising and falling as she shifted through the gears. "I'm sorry, again, that nothing materialized." She glanced at me before returning to watching the road.

"Why are you talking like it's your fault? That's ridiculous!" Driving home from the BP, she always took great care to keep to the posted speed limit, especially at that time of night when there were many bored cops just itching to write someone a ticket. Although she was the designated driver that evening, Nancy probably wasn't much more sober than me. "Sister, there was nothing in that room that appealed to me, and no amount of alcohol was going to create a Prince Charming out of that funky bunch. I'm glad we left when we did."

Her answer didn't surprise me, and it was no shocker that the BP had been a bust that evening, as it had been for many in recent months. The clientele was changing, and not for the better. She pulled up to the red traffic light on Evans Avenue. A right turn would've taken me home. A left turn would go to Nancy's. It was then that our thoughts coordinated. We had become very good at reading each other's minds. I mouthed her words a split-second before she said them.

"Stay over?"

She knew the answer.

I nodded, eyes closed.

The traffic light changed. Bathed in the green glow, she turned left, and we proceeded down Evans Avenue. Within ten minutes, Nancy made a right onto York Street, entering an older, working-class neighborhood where she lived alone in a small, tidy home. I felt the car turn onto her driveway, the electric garage door whirring, acoustics changing as she pulled inside.

"Come on, girlfriend." She pulled me from the car, and we managed to make our way into her kitchen. I leaned against the harvest gold refrigerator as she filled two tall plastic tumblers with tap water.

"You know the drill." She handed me one, keeping the other for herself.

With loud gulps, we both emptied our respective tumblers. She filled them again and we finished those, too, trying to minimize the morning's hangover.

"Meet you in the bedroom." Nancy patted me on the butt as she refilled our tumblers for later, being more of a mother at that moment than a girlfriend or sister. Having her touch me down there, however casual it was, made my nether regions flush with warmth, forcing another inebriated grin as I made an uncertain path down the hallway.

I slipped out of my flowered dress, something cute and simple I found on sale at Newberry's a few weeks ago, trying, in my uncertain state, not to wrinkle it. What kept it from being too demure was the neckline, not plunging, but on my frame, it managed to reveal a few extra inches of cleavage, more than I would ever expose at the office or a proper social gathering. However, this was worn for BP and BP alone, so I didn't mind showing off a bit more tit than usual. Gotta give the prospective client a little sample, eh?

The dress was placed on a metal hanger and tucked into Nancy's bedroom closet leaving me in my matching lavender bra and panties. I drunkenly eyed myself in her floor-length mirror as the lacy bra slipped down my arms to reveal a nice pair of breasts, not large, but not small, either. I liked them, and every man I bedded did, too. Sheer panties slipped down my legs to be kicked off, revealing a soft, springy bush I kept trimmed, something for me to pet when I masturbated, which was often, or for some nameless lover to nuzzle before he got to my sweet spot.

Nancy had a habit of sleeping in the raw, so I followed suit, something relatively new for me, joining her in bed as we pulled the bedclothes up around our breasts, leaving our arms free. I watched her ample bounty shift to the side as she reached over to switch off the lamp on the nightstand, admiring her thick, erect nipples surrounded by large areolas.

"God, I'm exhausted," she exhaled. On our backs, we lie only inches apart as I sensed the closeness of her body, our eyes adjusting to the dark room.

"That makes two of us," I replied, examining the spots swimming before my eyes. Within a few minutes, I could see enough to make out her face and breasts. The thin, white drapes glowed with silver-blue moonlight. She slid over, closing the gap between our bodies. Her hot skin pressed against mine, and it felt nice.

This wasn't anything new or unusual. As I mentioned, Nancy and I had been friends for several years, going through many good and bad times together, our lives sharing a similar path. Physical closeness, at least in my mind, came with the territory. We shared the usual secrets that girlfriends do. We thought nothing of relating to each other episodes from the long list of anonymous lovers who had made their way between our legs, the good, the bad, and the totally fucking weird.

Workload permitting, we'd take a long lunch once per week, and there was this little divey café where we could park ourselves in a tiny booth near the kitchen and speak freely. Few people, if any, heard us, with the exception of the waitresses, which we kept entertained.

"This particular very proper gentleman," Nancy arched her eyebrows mockingly, "wouldn't get naked until the lights were off."

"Oh, please," I'd groan. We'd finished our salads and delicious little pork chop sandwiches and were now sipping coffee, wishing it was bourbon. "I've had so many of those, I lost count. 'Princes of Darkness' I call them. God forbid they be seen in the light with all their shortcomings."

"Isn't that the truth? Well, this 'Prince' tripped over a chair finding his way to my bed!"

"Oh, sweet fucking Jesus!"

"Took a while to get the mood back, know what I mean? Even then, I understand why he wanted it dark. After a bunch of awkward positioning and grunting, goddamn, I almost had to ask if it was in. I mean really!"

I nodded, laughing into my hand, casting my eyes up to the well-worn, sixty-something waitress refilling my cup. When done, she stepped back, but not out of earshot. I decided to give her a treat.

"Of course, on the other end of the spectrum," my voice dropped a bit, remembering fondly one particular stud who should've been given a prize for his performance, "there's one I called 'The Piledriver.'"

It was the way I said it. Nancy fell silent, chewing on her lower lip, giving me those dark, deep eyes of hers. She knew exactly of what I spoke. I could feel the presence of the waitress behind me. It was the way her body absorbed sound, altering the surrounding acoustics. Knowing my audience was ready, I continued.

"Sonofabitch." I stared into the distance. "That big thing, as hard as it was, still drooped between his thighs from sheer gravity."

"My god, did you measure it?" My girlfriend whispered, and she wasn't kidding. Nancy literally had a tape measure in her nightstand just for that purpose. She would record in her diary the length and circumference of every man who would allow her to, complete with other details such as whether he was circumcised, had a mole, some deformity or anything like that.

"Some guys would've insisted, but this one..." I paused for effect. "I swear... this one...didn't know, or care, what he had."

"Oh, my."

"That's exactly it! No 'big dick' remarks, no posing, no pet names for his cock, at least none he would share with me." I had to stop for a moment. Taking myself back, I realized how long ago that night had occurred and how I desperately needed some loving like that again. "It was just the desire to give me pleasure," I swallowed, "and to be with me, if only for that night."

Describing the scene, I couldn't help but feel sweet Piledriver inside me again, but it was more than that. It was his handsome face, his smell, and his solid embrace that all factored into an experience which rose above the rest.

And the oral sex.

"Did I mention he was a fucking god at cunnilingus?"

Nancy shook her head.

"Before he pushed that magnificent thing into me, he made sure I was good and ready." I reached out and squeezed Nancy's arm, leaning in toward her face, but still speaking loudly enough for the waitress to hear. "He burrowed his way in, licking and sucking just like he was eating a juicy peach. I was literally dribbling down his chin! He took the longest time, teasing my clit until I begged for more. God, he made my pussy sing!"

My face was mere inches from my friend's. She wasn't blinking.

"God, he lapped at me like a dog getting peanut butter out of the bottom of a jar." I snorted, amused by my apt simile, and another one involving food. Piledriver certainly ate me out like I was his personal buffet. "His stubble was rubbing against the insides of my thighs, and I wondered how he could breathe. Finally, just as I was about to go out of my mind, he reached up to massage my tits. That pushed me over the edge."

Nancy let out a little gasp, swallowing. I maintained my grip on her arm, fingers digging into flesh.

"Next thing I knew, he was on his knees. I had to guide that thing inside with both hands! We took it slow and steady, just the tip at first, then I felt him stretching me to the limit."

I could hear the waitress breathing behind me. My true life story was having the desired effect.

"I don't know how long it took, but he finally got all the way in." I paused again to sip from the ancient, coffee-stained white ceramic mug, licking my red-painted lips as I looked back up into her eyes. "He kept asking me if it was okay. No doubt, he must've hurt some other women with that appendage, so I finally said 'yes, dammit, please fuck me!'"

"Goddamn!" Her face glowed rosy pink.

"He just started this rhythmic thrusting, that massive shaft plunging into me, hard and steady, over and over, just like a pile driver ramming it home. His balls kept colliding with my ass and..." I glanced up at the big plate glass window over Nancy's shoulder and saw the waitress's reflection. She had moved closer, almost leaning over so as not to miss a word. "... they felt huge, no doubt swollen with cum, and he was ready to deliver!"

I stopped speaking and released my friend's arm, sitting back in the chair. I took another draw from the mug, and slowly. Nancy blinked. The silence took on a life of its own as I counted the seconds. I could be such a mischief-maker. Finally, she spoke up.

"Well?"

"Four times," I smiled. "Four. Fucking. Times. He stayed with me all night."

"Sonofabitch!" Now it was Nancy licking her lips.

"Jesus, the sheer amount of ejaculate I took from that firehose of his." I put the mug down, gazing at my napkin as I folded it into a neat square. "You know I keep a lot of rubbers on hand, just because, but Piledriver was so big, none of them would've fit. It was a risk, but I just couldn't help myself. The next morning, I staggered to the bathroom with gobs of cum running down the insides of my thighs. What a gooey, sticky mess!"

The waitress gulped audibly. Apparently, she wasn't a Fundamentalist or had any moral hang-ups, or we would've found out. Nancy was almost sweating. Her upper lip glowed with a sheen of perspiration. "Whatever happened to him?"

"He hopped into his El Camino and disappeared into the dawn, never to return." I shrugged, placing the napkin next to my plate. "Perhaps it was for the best. It sure as hell created an indelible memory."

What a way with words I have! I thought to myself. I should write a romance novel, or one of those pornographic paperbacks.

Nancy took my hand, squeezing it. "God, I long for something like that."

I leaned over the table, kissing my friend's forehead as she looked up at me again, the dark abyss in her eyes, her face only an inch from mine. "Baby, I hope you find it, and soon," I whispered, kissing her hand affectionately, perhaps with a bit more passion than a friend would, but it was for a purpose. I had more mischief in mind.

Smirking, I looked into Nancy's eyes again, tilting my head a bit. I cast my eyes to the side a couple of times, indicating the waitress behind us. Nancy, of course, read my mind. If my erotic story was the cake, then we naughty girls would spread icing all over it.

"I love you." Nancy said. She wasn't lying, but she also knew how the waitress behind us would interpret it.

"I love you, too, girlfriend." Also the truth. Another kiss, this time on the mouth. A gasp escaped somewhere above and behind us, filling me with a sense of accomplishment.

"Let's go home." Looking like a little girl wanting to play, Nancy pushed her arms together, squeezing her breasts slightly, knowing it would double the amount of cleavage she was showing, a simple trick she used at the BP with great success.

I nodded. The waitress was practically grunting with arousal, and I swear I could feel the heat from her body as a feral concoction of musk comingled with stale food odor and sweat entered my nostrils. A voice called from the other side of the café.

"Hazel, will you get back to work? Come on, now!"

Silently, the woman slipped the check onto our table and scurried away.

"I have this." I unsnapped my coin purse, fishing out a couple of dollar bills.

The little bell on the café's front door jingled as we walked out into the overcast day, cool air greeting our faces as noise from the city street filled our ears.

"My god, we're sooo bad," Nancy giggled, her arm around my waist as we ambled down the sidewalk.

"Ah, she'll probably masturbate on her coffee break." I tilted my head to touch hers, both of us looking down at the ancient concrete of old downtown Delphos. "Rub out a few orgasms, lick her fingers, then it's back to serving food with no one the wiser."

"Ohhh, wow!" Nancy's eyes bugged out, eyebrows rising as she processed the mental image. "That poor old bag needs something, no doubt. Cock. Pussy. Maybe both."

"Honey, don't laugh." My voice lowered. "We need to be careful, or that will be us in twenty years."

"Yeah, I know." She pulled me tighter against her body, sobering up from the giddiness. I returned the embrace and we walked as one. "God help me, I know it all too well."

Although I was having fun with that unfortunate waitress, playing naughty games with Nancy, there was no denying that the story-play left me aroused and needy. With the solid warmth and pressure of my best friend by my side as we slowly returned to the office on that otherwise unexceptional day, my thoughts wandered to questions left unanswered.

Back in Nancy's bedroom, again with our bodies pressed snugly together, both of us ensconced in a cocoon of soft, scented blankets, I sensed her unrest. I could always tell when Nancy was horny. Out in public, at work, the diner, or the BP, especially when she spotted some hulking stud in tight jeans leaning over the pool table, she'd squirm and fidget, biting her nails to the point I had to tell her to stop.