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“Oh,” I say, not sure if I am relieved or disappointed that she’s, uh, only teasing. I’ve never looked at Karalyn or any other woman—other than my faceless imaginary lover—in a sexual way. So the fact that I have to restrain myself from practically leering at her perky D-cup breasts, her ass in skintight jeans, or her sumptuous lips is way beyond me. I blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on being in need of a good fuck.
Karalyn turns to me. “Sooo, you coming or not?” The word come sounds soft and sexy the way she says it. It lingers in the air between us. It’s hidden meaning teasing me.
I grab the bottle of vodka and walk toward her. “I’m coming, geesh.”
She laughs. “Then hurry up ’cause I wanna hear all about your breakup with Mister Fine. Don’t even think I forgot.”
I roll my eyes up in my head, following behind her. “Girl, I already told you. Long story.” I set the bottle on the table, then take a seat down on the opposite end of the sofa from her. “I need a refill.”
“We have a whole bottle of vodka and the entire night.” She takes my glass from me, her delicate fingers gently grazing mine. Heat shoots through me. I shift in my seat. She fills the glasses with Ciroc, then tops it off with peach juice, then hands me mine. I take a sip eyeing her as she fixes hers, then sits a few inches away from me.
I raise my glass to her. “Not bad.” Now it’s her turn to tell me how she’s good at everything she does. She emphasizes everything.
“Now, give me the short version of how Mister Fine broke your heart so we can spend the rest of the night drinking and doing whatever else comes to mind. Or we can simply sit and do nothing at all, except finish this bottle off.”
I smile. “Sounds good to me. Long story short, I loved Maurice more than he loved me. Hell, I loved him more than I loved me. But the icing on the cake for me was when that motherfucker said I was too fat.”
“Fat? Is he serious? There’s nothing fat about you, girl. Oh, he’s a fucking idiot! Mmmph. He actually called you fat?”
“Well, not exactly in those words. But that’s what it sounded like when he decided to tell me while I was sucking his dick that he wanted—no, needed—his space. That he was no longer attracted to me. Translation, I want a skinny bitch.”
“That bastard!”
>
“Yeah. Tell me about it. It’s a good thing he didn’t fuck-up my self-esteem too bad, but imagine how I felt hearing that shit with a mouthful of his cum. I felt like I had been punched in the forehead for grazing the head of his dick with my teeth.” I shake my head. “I should have known something was wrong when he stopped going down on me, then eventually no longer wanted to have sex as much.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “He did what? Stopped giving you head? That’s a no-no. And you were still sucking his dick?”
I give her a dismissive wave. “Chile, among other things.” I take a sip of my drink. “I was that man’s whore in the sheets. Anything he wanted sexually, I gave it. I’d let him slip his dick out of my pussy, pull it out and suck it clean, then let him run it all up in my ass with no questions asked. Why? Because he was my man and I was willing to do whatever I needed to in order to keep him satisfied. But whenever I asked him to eat my pussy, it was always some half-assed tongue lap. Then when he stopped doing it altogether and I asked him about it, he said it was never really his thing, but only did it because he wanted his dick sucked.”
Karalyn sips her drink, listening intently.
I shake my head, thinking back to the last time Maurice and I made love—no, fucked. His wide, delicious dick a pleasurable fit, stretching and filling me. A sweet ache building up deep in the wells of my cunt, swelling my pussy lips. I gasped as he dipped his hand between my thighs, arching my back and spreading my legs to give him more access to the back-shot view of his cock sliding in and out of me. It’s presence brushing up against my G-spot. My free hand fluttered to my breasts. Pinching my nipples, rolling them between my fingers. I slammed back on his dick, bouncing and clapping my ass around the base of him, nearing myself to an orgasm. But then he gripped my hips, digging his nails into my flesh, and started banging deep and hard into me while letting out a long, low groan.
Then, after a series of short, jerking thrusts, it was over. He had cum.
And I was left teetering on the edge of an orgasm of my own, my pussy whimpering and pulsing for release. All I needed were a few more deep strokes and I would have spurted a stream of hot juices. But Maurice had already slipped out of me, rolling over onto his side, then through heavy-lidded eyes, telling me goodnight as he pulled the covers up over him. There was no half-hearted kiss on the lips or cheek. No feeble attempt at trying to pull me into his arms. Nothing.
But that wasn’t the first time he had taunted me, getting off before making sure I’d gotten off, too. It had become a pattern. One I ignored up until that night. “Wow. Um. I know that’s not it, is it?”
He shot me a look over his shoulder, frowning. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Well, I’m not,” I huffed, snatching the covers back. “I didn’t cum yet.”
“Whose fault is that? You better go pull out one of them toys and go finish yourself off. Next time, make sure you get yours before I do.”
And with that said, he turned back over on his side, yanking the covers back up over his head. I was stunned and pissed all in the same breath. I couldn’t believe his response to me.
I press my thighs tight, remembering how good his dick was. Too damn bad he wasn’t any good.
“That selfish bastard!” Karalyn hisses. “That’s one of the reasons why I divorced Kenneth. He was so disconnected from what I needed sexually. And I don’t really think he cared as long as he got his.” We both take sips from our glasses, knowingly. “I know why I stayed with Kenneth for as long as I did. Because I wanted my marriage to work. But why did you put up with Maurice for as long as you had?”
“I simply accepted it. I wasn’t ready to let go. I thought things would get better. And I wanted a ring so I didn’t make a big deal about it, even though I felt…I don’t know. Rejected in a sense. After awhile sex with us became routine, like it was a chore that he needed to hurry up and get finished with. For me, it became a desperate mission to keep him. Sometimes I’d wonder if it was me.”
“Girl, hush. It definitely wasn’t you. He sounds like he was a selfish bastard. Good riddance to his trifling ass. He did you a favor.”
She holds her glass up toward mine. They clink together.
