Rewarding Loyalty: 1NS
January 15, 2015 1 Comment
Well, I’m sure a lot of you thought I fell off the face of the Earth! I took a gander at my site stats for last year and my cable car only needed 8 trips! I think I could count the number of posts on both my hands, which is sad. So, I’m resolving to come back, with less bitching, and more rewards for my favorite people! How, you may ask? Well with yummy writing! You’ve been hearing me talking about being a writer, writing stories, getting characters right, being inspired by stuff to think up new plot ideas, but in the end, only a select few that know the password have gotten to actually see what I’ve done. Last year, even they didn’t get any. I’ve been a stingy little….
So, I want to give you all something to enjoy! For those of you not familiar with my work though, you get one warning: it’s not for everyone. If you’re not mature enough to say “penis” without giggling, for the love of God read my stuff! I mean, no! Don’t! Don’t read my stuff! But seriously, I tend to swim in the gutter at times (all the time), so if you are squeamish about sex you may not want to read my stuff on principal. The rest of you freaks my feel welcome to read it and tear it down.
So, without further ado I give to you the first part of 1NS.
I so did not want to be out tonight. I wanted to be home with a bowl of double chocolate fudge frozen yogurt, a steamy romance novel, and my vibrator. I wanted to immerse myself in a fantasy where the sex is amazing, and though the men have flaws, they are ultimately loyal and caring. I didn’t want to think about reality, or the fact that it had been a month since my boyfriend said that he’d found his soul mate in someone else. I most definitely didn’t want to dwell on the five years of mediocre sex, and lukewarm affection either.
Why had I stayed in a relationship that had gone stale so soon? Honestly, I thought that was the natural progression. Passion fades, or so I’m told. Lasting relationships don’t stay passionate, but the mutual respect and overall devotion is supposed to grow. I was sticking with this guy who didn’t totally drive me nuts, who I could see myself watching movies on the couch every Friday night with for the rest of my life. So what if I couldn’t imagine myself looking at his body with desire when we turned fifty? Would I really want to be sexually active then anyway?
But he’d had different plans. He’d been comfortable, yes, but as soon as his ex-girlfriend from high school saw him at their ten year reunion he said he felt the sparks of their old romance. He knew he had to have her, and though he didn’t want to hurt me he had to follow his heart. Considering he’d said I was his soul mate in the beginning, I suspected his heart was located below the belt.
I bounced back pretty quickly, I supposed. My best friend had been looking for a place to stay and my ex had insisted we have separate rooms in our apartment. So, the issue of who I was going to get to cover his half the rent was easily solved. But Rachelle was a confirmed bachelorette who loved to go out every weekend and pick up guys. I used to go with her to have fun and dance, but my ex had had problems with the amount of attention I got from men and so I’d stopped going as often. Now, she expected me to go out with her all the time. Not only that, but she kept pushing me onto these guys she finds that she thinks would be good for me. When did I loose my sanity and ask her to set me up with someone? But she was my best friend, and I had several years of clubbing to make up for with her.
With a deep breath I squared my shoulders and took a drink of my soda, watching as Rachelle walked back from the dance floor with two guy-shaped figures in tow. This is how it always seemed to work. She would home-in on a hot guy and his wing-man and think that because she wants to jump one guy’s bones, that I could muster up the lust to do his friend justice. She didn’t try to pawn off ugly guys, just the one she wasn’t as interested in. My tastes weren’t too picky as far as looks were concerned. However, it didn’t matter how good looking a guy was if he wasn’t compatible mentally with me. Not to say that I liked really smart guys, but I’d like to have more in common with them than digging the current song playing. I enjoyed a pleasant personality, and enough intelligence to be able to hold a good conversation with. I also preferred to choose my partners.
I’d confronted her about trying to set me up with a guy, and she’d explained that she thought it would do me good to have some fun with a total stranger. No complications, no commitment past two in the morning; just two consenting adults enjoying each other. I had to admit that a part of me agreed that I needed to let loose a little. I just don’t think she was quite as picky as I was, and her choices of guys for me reflected it too much for me to let my hair down too much, so to speak.
She was still quite a ways off, and I really didn’t want to sit through another guy that expected me to have sex with him. I looked the other way, as if I didn’t see her coming and after a moment of focusing on nothing in particular, I got up and started walking. I wove through the crowd expertly. It was almost a dance in itself as I threaded through gaps most people would pause at.
I found myself at the bar, feeling just a bit guilty for running away. I was munching on a fingernail trying to think of a way I could avoid my friend while still keeping an eye on her, when a body smashed into my side with the force of a buss. A pair of arms caught me around the waist before I fell to the floor, and helped to steady me. Vaguely I heard the splash of a drink hit the ground as I looked up at the guy who had caught me. He was glaring behind him at whoever pushed him into me. I followed his gaze, but whomever it was had already been absorbed into the crowd again. Probably someone who had too much to drink.
“You okay?” he asked looking back to me. A pair of subdued chocolate brown eyes looked me over with concern. He wore a pair of slim glasses that left him looking smart, but fashionable. He had short cropped walnut colored hair that was thinning a little at his fore head. His creamed coffee skin was smooth with only a hint of facial hair on his square jaw. He was somewhat slim in stature, but his arms were moderately sized. As he helped me back to an upright position I felt the contained strength in his hands at my back. As close as we were, I didn’t feel a paunch in his tummy, nor was there any softness under my hand which lay squarely on his chest.
“I’m fine, I think,” I said looking myself over briefly before taking him in from head to toe. As he straitened, I noticed he was about half a foot taller than myself, just tall enough that I’d have to reach his lips by tip-toe for a kiss. Not that I was thinking about that, though I guess I was a little since he wasn’t hard on the eyes in the least. His hips were slim, and his thighs were like his arms, not too muscular, but not puny either. Overall he seemed built like a runner. He wore an emerald green dress shirt tucked into a pair of denim jeans buckled with a brown belt, and a pair of tan cowboy boots. It was just enough to show he cared what he looked like, but not enough to deck himself out like a peacock.
“I’m really sorry about that,” he said, letting me go and straitening his shirt.
“It’s okay,” I said waving it off, “Not your fault a drunk knocked you into me.”
“Yeah, a drunk,” he mused as he looked back behind him briefly before studying the floor beside me. I looked down and realized I’d dropped my soda. I felt around on my dress, but it was thankfully dry. “I made you spill your drink,” he observed somewhat remorsefully, “could I get you another one?”
I grinned and nodded assent. I was rewarded with a broad toothy grin that stretched nearly from ear to ear. We both turned to the bar and waited for the bartender to be free. It was half-way through a Friday night and, so she was pretty occupied. We stood there for a few minutes before I looked over at tall tan and hunky and shrugged. “It’s okay, it was just a soda anyway.”
He shook his head. “No, I insist.”
I waited for a short bit then looked him over a little. “So, are you here with someone?”
He looked down at me with a little smile, “Just a guy from work.”
“Oh!” I squeaked, feeling a little disappointed that he was gay, “have you been seeing each other long?”
His eyebrows furrowed a moment before widening. “No, we’re just hanging out,” he said with a little laugh, “I’m not with him.” The laugh filled his eyes with a light I couldn’t help but smile back at.
“Well, that’s embarrassing!” I laughed, “Sorry.”
“Do I look gay?” he inquired with a smile.
I shook my head, “It’s just that a decent looking guy, that dresses competently, is courteous and happens to be strait is uncommon. At least as far as I’ve known.”
He waved down the bartender who had just finished with another order. She came over and got our drink order then quickly filled two glasses with brown carbonated beverages. My companion handed her a bill, told her to keep the change while also informing her about the spill just a little ways away, and we walked away from the bar to an unoccupied table nearby.
“Well,” he said continuing our conversation, “rest assured that there is still one roaming the earth.”
I laughed, led him away from the bar to one of the tall bar tables near the wall. “So,” I said casually as I hopped up onto one of the chairs, “What do you and your friend do?”
He settled himself on the chair opposite. “We’re both ATCO’s at the local Air-force base.”
“Ahtese-what?” I tilted my head to the side.
“Air Traffic Control Officer.”
“Ah! Been stationed here long?”
“I was just recently transferred from Texas a few months ago. I was sent there after being deployed for a couple of years in Germany.”
“Germany, wow! How’d you like it there?”
He shrugs. “I missed being able to call my family. International calls are killer to pay for, even on my salary.”
“Isn’t that a high stress job?”
“It takes a quick mind, and nerves of steel, but the pay is phenomenal in comparison.”
I smiled and lifted my glass to him. “Well, if the pros outweigh the cons then all the more power to you. How do you like it here?”
He grinned scanning the dim nightclub. “It’s more active at night than the town I was raised in,” he said, eyes settling on me and warming around the edges, “I can see some positive attributes to the area.”
I looked away with a blush. You would have to be blind not to see what he was talking about. “So, did you leave someone special back in that small town?”
He shrugged, “Not particularly. There were some that interested me, but no one I’d been involved with.” He took a swig of his drink and shrugged, “I’m currently looking for someone who shares a certain level of compatibility than I haven’t been able to find.”
I frowned, “How so?”
He considered me a moment, the wheels in his head almost visibly turning behind his deeply rich eyes. Finally he took a breath and straitened his spine. “I prefer a more assertive woman overall, and a lot of the girls I’ve met want a man to make all the decisions in a relationship. Men are expected to make the first move, choose where to go on dates, pay for everything, even propose. I’m fine with doing all that, but sometimes even us guys need to feel pursued. Would it hurt if the woman made a decision once in a while? To plan a romantic date occasionally?”
I thought about what it would be like to have a guy let me be the aggressor like that. The idea was a novel one for me. Most men I’d been with had always taken charge, made the decisions and such. There were times where it grated on my nerves, especially when it came to the bedroom. As much as I hated to admit it, my ex had next to no self-control when we had sex. Honestly, he wasn’t even the only one, but there were nights I wished I could tie him up and leave him in a constant state of arousal for days at a time without relief. In the five years we’d dated, I could probably count the number of times he’d made me cum on my hands. As soon as he’d gotten his rocks off, that would be it for him. No reach around, rarely a cuddle, and absolutely no coming back for another try. Sometimes it seemed it took him days to recharge. Even the batteries in my Vibrator needed just a few hours! Sad to say, but I was more familiar with that squishy bit of silicone than with my ex, and more satisfied.
But as I looked at this relative stranger, I imagined him tied up on my bed, and found the thought had some appeal. Though not as a way of exacting revenge as it would with my ex. I leaned forward on the table, giving him good eye-contact. “Does that translate into sex too?” I inquired.
He accidentally inhaled some soda and coughed into his glass a few times before regaining normal breathing. “Most people wouldn’t have jumped strait to the sexual end of that statement,” he murmured around the glass.
I shrugged, “What can I say? I have one of those minds. Besides, years of sexual repression guarantees it’s one of the first things on my mind. I have to admit, I’m sick of men without any stamina thinking they should be in control.”
He grimaced, “And I gather you’re not so quick to finish?”
I nodded, “I’m pretty good on my own, but add in another person and I can’t relax. It’s fucking frustrating.”
“I could see that,” he said with a nod.
“So, if you aren’t here to find a more assertive female, why did you come to a club with a guy from work?”
“I like to listen to good music and occasionally striking up conversations with women I bump into. Maybe even dancing with them. A club is the perfect place for those activities.”
I smiled at him, intrigued. “You like to dance?”
He shrugged. “When I have a partner. I look pretty silly dancing by myself.”
I laughed. “Just about anyone looks silly dancing by themselves unless they’ve had lessons.”
He shook his head and pointed to a nearby woman swaying and grinding to the music. “She looks well enough.”
I watched as she moved through a decent amount of footwork and sways, as if her body were a leaf gently blowing in the wind. It was sensual and energetic. I had to admit, she looked good. “Yeah, but she’s either had a lot of practice or has taken some sort of dance lessons in her life.” I pointed to another chick dancing on a raised platform, she was swaying from side to side in more of a stiff parody of what the other woman was doing. Her hips didn’t move as dramatically nor as gracefully, though she flung her hair all over the place at every possible moment. “What about her?”
He observed the second woman for a second before shrugging. “I suppose it’s a matter of opinion. I still think I look silly dancing by myself.”
I ran my eyes up and down his torso, allowing him to see the appreciation of his body in my eyes as I met his gaze again. “Well, if it’ll make you look better, I’m willing to dance with you.”
His eyes warmed with a similar appreciation as he grinned back. “If you would be willing to take one for the team, I would be eternally grateful,” he replied good naturedly.
I snagged his hand, jumping up from my seat and pulled him along to the throngs of random dancing people. We stayed a little on the outskirts, where a decent sized gap big enough to allow us to move had formed. The song changed, keeping with the hot pulsing beats, and I started swaying with it. I laid a hand on his shoulder, and used the other to stabilize me as I let my body move where it wanted. He matched me, one hand on my hip, the other on my shoulder. There was a semi respectable distance between us, but as the song progressed, I realized that the sensual beat was accompanied by provocative lyrics, and our bodies were slowly gravitating to each other till we were pressed hip to hip, his knee bent between my legs. He didn’t grind on me, but I could feel the tightness in front of his pants, and almost wished that he would.
I turned around, and both of his hands went to my hips as I swayed in front of him, back arching, arms extended above me. He ran his hands up the sides of my torso, fingertips grazing the sides of my breasts before going back to hold my hips. Still, he didn’t connect our bodies in a more indecent way. I laid my shoulders back into his chest and gazed up into his eyes, unable to hide the effect the music and his hands were having on me. He was smiling, but behind his eyes I sensed a tension. Like he felt the same as me, but was holding back. Twisting back around, I pressed myself fully up against him, wrapping a leg around his waist and his eyes became wide. We couldn’t help but grind into each other as our hips swayed more. I heard a little groan escape him as I took one of his hands and slid it down my hip to cup my ass.
Then the song reached it’s climax. Literally. A woman’s voice moaned and purred over the speaker system for about thirty seconds into a simulated orgasm and I felt my moist panties soak into the front of his jeans. I felt possessed suddenly by a wild desire to know what this man felt like more intimately. I raised up, one hand behind his head to help me bring him down to me and brushed my lips over his earlobe. “I want you to kiss me,” I sighed, flicking the lobe with my tongue.
His hands gripped into the flesh underneath my ribbs, and I felt a shaky breath leave his chest. He nudged my own ear with his nose, whispering, “Lets go somewhere a little more private.”
I nodded, and we were weaving back through the crowd that seemed to have formed around us during the song. He led me past the tables and the bar and down the hall where the restrooms were located. At first, I thought he was going to go into the men’s room with me, but instead he kept walking to the end of the hall where the lights had been dimmed, leaving it a shadowy corner with a small alcove and door that read “Authorized Personnel Only”. He leaned up against the door and pulled me into him, caressing my cheek with one hand and gently pulling me in by the hip with the other.
“I want you to know,” I breathed as my arms snaked around his shoulders, “I don’t normally do this.”
“Good,” he murmured, inhaling the scent of my skin by my temple, “neither do I.”
He was slouched so that he was reachable, but he waited for me. I wasn’t quite used to it, and even though our earlier conversation should have clued me into how this might play out, I still found it a bit awkward at first. Either a man was interested and made a move, or he wasn’t and didn’t. At least that’s what I’d thought, but I knew that this guy was perfectly willing to kiss me, maybe even more, but instead of putting the moves on me, he was letting me make the decisions.
I nudged his neck and breathed in the scent of his warm skin. I really couldn’t compare it to anything. It was earthy, with the hint of spice. If he was wearing cologne he was very sparing with it. Whether it was natural or artificial, his scent was pleasing and it stirred my blood as it registered in my brain. His jaw brushed against my cheek, his facial hair scratching a little. It made things quiver a little between my legs, and I let out a shaky breath as I pulled back a little to meet his eyes. It was hard to see in the dark, but I could feel the weight of them as he studied me with restrained lust. I tilted my head a little and claimed his lips with a soft moan.
My breasts pressed up to his chest as I lifted a little to merge our mouths more fully. My tongue slid between his lips, coaxing them open with teasing flicks. He complied immediately, his tongue snaking out to meet mine. They danced together, coaxing sounds from the two of us that was swallowed up by the shadows. I ran my hands down the front of his shirt, caressing his chest over the soft cotton. He turned us so that he had my back to the wall of the alcove, and wedged his hips between my legs so that the bulge in his pants fit squarely against my hot wet mound again. I gasped against his lips, hands bunching in his shirt.
“God, I want to touch you,” he groaned into my mouth.
“Yes,” I gasped, “please yes, touch me anywhere you like.”
He nipped my bottom lip with his teeth as the hand that had been cupping my jaw caressed a line down and around my breast, cupping it firmly and brushing a thumb over the peak. He kneaded the mound, rolling the flesh in his hand and pinching the nipple as it puckered through the layers of my clothing. I thrust my pussy into him, rubbing against the ridge of his fly and reveling in the rough of the denim against my sensitive flesh. My hands made quick but shaky work of the top five or so buttons of his shirt, then I parted the material and ran my hands over a mostly smooth chest. I played over his pecks much like his hand teased the curve of my breast, flicking his nipple with my nails, then soothing it with the pad of my finger.
He grunted and bumped me a little with his groin, squeezing my boob a little harder in reaction. Then he slipped it in through the loose neckline of my dress and slid under the cup of my plunge bra and teased the sensitive tip with the pad of his calloused thumb. He used the hand to pull the shirt down and around the globe of flesh, exposing it to the air-conditioned hall.
I sucked in his lip as my hands played over the plains of his chest. They trailed a path down firm abs, unbuttoning more of his shirt as they teased the muscles into jumping underneath them. I felt little hints of hair under my fingertips as I ran them over his flesh, absorbing the warmth of his body and tingling with the need to feel more of him. I thought he’d go right to sucking on my nipple when he pulled away from the kiss, instead he continued to knead it with one hand while pressing his forehead to the wall next to me. His breathing was heavy next to my ear, one of the hottest sounds a guy can make at a moment like this. I wanted more, however. I wanted to hear him groan in my ear as I did things to push him near the edge. I wanted the control in this situation that I’d been denied for five years. The control to decide how and when I’d make him cum, and how he would make me cum.
Slowly, I ran my hands down his chest, caressing the curve of every muscle with a feather-light touch till I reached his belt buckle. My index finger teased underneath the metal, tickling the downy happy-trail there. I felt his stomach muscles contract as he sucked in a quick breath, while I ran my finger a little lower.
“If you want to stop,” I purred in his ear, “Say so, because from this point on, I won’t ask.”
“Yes ma’am,” he breathed, waiting.
I grinned, inordinately pleased by his apparent acceptance. I popped the buckle open with one hand with a quiet, “Good boy,” in his ear.