Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) (4 page)

I take the skinny, silver nozzle, and slip it lengthwise between my lips. I start sliding it up and down, stirring juices and making myself hotter. I slide back against the tub, lifting my ass up from the bottom. I add a second hand to the cylinder and get aggressive, rubbing it harder around my pussy. I think about slipping it inside me, but don’t.
 

I keep stirring until I cum, softly, nothing like Richard that morning. After I fall, I reach around the tub’s edge and grab my favorite glass dildo from the faux stone floor, and bring it into the tub.

My dildo is beautiful: the width and length of Richard’s cock. All glass, with a maroon braid wrapping the shaft. He bought it for me.
 

This is for the bathtub when I’m not with you, so you don’t have to always use your fingers, and can think of me while you’re not.

I’m using it, imagining him.
 

I think about what Richard said, and what he didn’t. He had to be thinking of Zoe. I wonder if that’s who threatens him most.
 

Though conflicted, some of me loves Richard for giving me what he’ll know I’ll probably want later. I’ll leave the house wanting to come home, and return later, glad to be back. The time in between is a brittle forest and a match.
 

It isn’t necessary. He makes me happier than I’ve ever been. I owe Richard everything. If he hadn’t entered my life when he had, I would have faded, grown number than I was. I came home from Europe clean, but just barely.
 

Neither of us believes in monogamy, and are both religious with honesty. I’d never leave a man for saying, “I’ll be right back, Dear. I’m going fucking!” But I’d leave in a blink if he said he was going out for a beer, went fucking instead, and didn’t have the courtesy (or courage) to tell me about the load he left once home.

I swipe my glass dildo up and down my pussy, softly, slowly, hearing Richard’s whispers in my head:
be patient, go slower
. I listen to the whisper, forcing my hand into a molasses of motion as I twirl my dildo in circles.

I cry out. My asshole clenches. I spread my pussy lips, wedge the dildo deeper lengthwise, and stir harder.
 

Memories crash. I start thinking about my past, and the yesterdays Richard wants me to explore.
 

Cooper — the first boy to pet my pussy. Or to lick my nipples before they were what they are now, full and ripe. Leigh after that. I was fleeing from Cooper’s antics and mischief. He was only a boy when I wanted more. I thought I was cool, fucking a girl. Letting her taste me. She wasn’t true, like Zoe.

I hungered for Cooper — he was the first — and Leigh after that. But unlike either of them or the many to follow before her, I loved Zoe.
 

Zoe crushed me. I left for Europe as an urn full of ashes.
 

Parting made me want to die, and so I fled.
 

I found Sasha and Hope. They entertained me enough to pretend that I could forget. But even at their best, they were nothing like her. Zoe haunts me most.

I turn the dildo in my hand so the ball is on the bottom and the bulbous head is at the top. I spread my lips wider, brace my body for entry, and ease it into my pussy.
 

I stick the dildo inside me: one, two, three, four, five times, gripping tightly in my left hand while rubbing my tits with my right.
 

I add my second hand to the glass cock, and hold it like a two-handed sword, pushing it deeper, to the first band. I plunge. Fast, then faster, whimpering, trying to keep Richard in mind as a 100 memories crowd to the front.

I thrust the glass dick in and out, alternating between rubbing my clit in circles, and flicking it swiftly, never pushing the glass past its ridges, faster and faster as I’m closer to cumming.
 

Again I wonder what Richard is thinking, sending me out into the world like he is. I hope he’s right, and fuck myself faster. I catch my reflection. My face is bright-pink, just like my pussy.
 

I’m ready to cum.
 

I rub myself faster, matching speed with plunging, not holding back.
 

I cum hard, and as I’m cumming slip the dildo deeper into my cunt.

I cum again, much harder.
 

I scream so loud I know that Richard can hear me. And I’m not even trying.
 

I bounce up from the bottom. The water is shallow and our tub deep. Some spills over the side. I shake water like an earthquake.
 

My body’s barely mine, humming with a life all its own.
 

I fuck the glass like a dick, shoving my pussy against it, lifting up and down on the porcelain, fast, slow, however I need it.
 

I finish and settle, sinking into the water and letting it wash all over my shoulders. I listen to silence.
 

Richard is gone. I can feel when he’s home. Now I feel nothing.
 

He wants me to go. Leaving is hard, later may be impossible. He doesn’t want me to cry, or call him names.
 

I hate him for leaving, but of course I am glad.
 

He knows me well.
 

I hope he’s right, and that the road I’ll take next is the one I’m most supposed to follow, because it will lead back to him.
 

I pull the juiced glass from my pussy and set it between my tits.
 

It sets on my skin as I think about where I should go, and when I should go there. If he’s not here I won’t stay. I have places to go, starting with Leigh.
 

Seconds With My First
 

I hang up with Leigh, smiling.
 

It’s odd to call her, but I’m already glad. Whether Richard’s right or wrong, about us and my needs, I’ll play like he wants while I figure it out.
 

It makes sense, starting with Leigh.
 

“Well, Christ on a cross in heaven!” she said, answering on the third ring.
 

“I think it’s one or the other, not both at the same time.” I said, relieved that her number hadn’t changed. I didn’t want to chase Leigh on Facebook, or give her time to think.
 

“You ever think about fucking me?” I said, before hello.
 

She laughed. “All the time, Liza. All the time. So, what are you up to, and should I be nervous?”
 

“No,” I said, still laughing through my smile. “I’m getting married.”

“No?” Disbelief in her voice: “Liza Elway’s getting
married
?”

“I am.”
 

“So you’re calling to invite me?”
 

“You can come,” I laughed, “but that’s not why I’m calling.”
 

“When’s the wedding?” she asked, ignoring my question.

“Soon. No date. He asked me yesterday. I have to take care of stuff first.”
 

“Like what?” I can tell by Leigh’s tone: She has the idea. “Things like me?”
 

“Exactly.”
 

“Like old times?”
 

“Like old times.”

“You’re in town.” She sounds hopeful.
 

“Yes. I live here now.”

“Great. Remember Nate’s old place?”
 

“Of course.”
 

“I’m living there now. How soon can you get here?”

“An hour.”
 

“I’m already wet,” she said.
 

So was I.

I was in my Audi a few minutes later.
 

Now I’m staring into Leigh’s eyes. She is more beautiful than I remember, more stunning than expected. She’s on her knees in bed. I’m inches away and staring.
 

I lean in, kiss her, then draw back to stare some more.
 

She’s hungry and wanting, loves that I’m making her wait, and filling our minutes with longing gazes. Leigh knows she’s gorgeous. It’s in her confident smile and blazing, light-brown eyes.
 

Leigh was always beautiful — pretty enough to make me wonder if I could like girls, then later proved that I could. Now she’s ravishing. She’s grown into her features, and wears them better than ever. In high school, she covered her freckles in makeup. Now she wears them proudly. Her mouth is perfectly large on her smallish face. I picture her putting it on my pussy like she used to on Thursdays before history.
 

I need her, and again feel angry at Richard for pushing me to want something other than him.
 

I take her hands as we stare. Leigh’s in a thin, white top, no panties or bra. Her tits push against thin cotton, making me want them in my mouth.
 

I’m in teal panties and a matching cami.
 

We both must be soaking.
 

I lean into kiss her again. She smiles under my lips. I pull away, no words are needed between us.
 

I take her top and pull it down over her tits. Her breasts are even more beautiful than I remember: fuller and larger. I have to touch, fondle, and feel them in my mouth. But like Richard, Leigh makes me wait.
 

She pulls away, grabs my top by the bottom, and gently tugs it up over my head. I’m in nothing but panties as we kiss. Too hungry to stay at her lips, I fall to her breasts.
 

I clamp my lips to Leigh’s nipple. She sighs, groans, and arches her back, pushing herself deeper into my mouth. She reaches behind her, plants her hands on the bed, and pushes up harder as I suckle.
 

I tease her right nipple with my teeth as I fondle her breast, pull away, lick several times, and fall back on my heels to stare up at Leigh.
 

She takes her turn: kisses my cheek, chin and shoulder, then falls to my breasts, circling her tongue at the nipple, and wedging my flesh into her mouth.
 

She moves to the other. Now I’m aching, ready to beg.
 

I strip Leigh’s shirt, and scoot back on the bed. We lie naked together, breathing, waiting as I sweep her body with my hands.
 

Leigh’s skin is electric. Like once upon a time, she needs me.
 

As Richard requested, I give to her fully, smiling at her swollen breasts and hard nipples as I slither down her body, brushing Leigh’s flesh with my long, soft hair, and making her shiver.
 

She leans back, and presses her head into the pillow. Her mouth is open, expectant and moaning.
 

I tug off her panties. She wiggles — squirms — eagerly from them, parting her legs to make room for me. I fall onto Leigh’s body and press my lips against her. We kiss for a moment, then I slither back down her lithe frame.
 

I press my lips to her stomach, and look up, pausing between her legs. My tongue rolls out of my mouth, ready to flick her.
 

My skin’s hot and pussy wet. I can’t expect to be filled like I would be with Richard, but Leigh will give me harmony. No matter how well intended — or gifted — a man might be, only a woman knows what sex, arousal, and orgasm feel like for another like her.
 

I lick Leigh slowly, spreading her lips with the tips of my fingers. I taste her. Her pussy is sweeter than I remember, or expect. It’s been a while since I’ve had pussy in my mouth. I’ve not tasted a woman in a while, except for the sweet
me
I lick from the glaze that slicks Richard’s cock. He loves to slide out of my pussy and dip into my mouth. I love to taste him.
 

I stop flicking, and press my tongue to Leigh’s swollen lower lips. I drag my tits against the sheets, lifting my ass high as I dig between Leigh’s legs, pushing my tongue deeper into her folds.
 

Leigh’s legs lightly shake. Her stomach is sunken. She fondles herself, brushing fingers over her nipples, eyes closed as I work.
 

I press my palms to Leigh’s inner thighs and push, widening her part and lending more room to my face. I glance up and smile. Her eyes are closed, she cannot see me. Her arms lose their spot at her breasts, fly up over her head, and grab at the pile of pillows behind her.
 

I tease her with my tongue, flicking her faster with my tip as she squirms and moans. I love Leigh’s bald cunt. I think of Richard and his soft skin. I banish the thought to focus on Leigh, the first girl I ever played with, and the one who’s with me now.
 

I start sucking her faster, remembering how it once was between us. In school, we’d play, and try sneaking off where no one could find us. Senior year — when I hated Cooper — we spent so many weekends alone in her room. I used to wonder if Leigh’s parents knew what we were doing, and figured they did. She said her dad would rather see her happy with a girl than miserable with a guy.