M/F
NC-17
***
Even late in the evening on December 31st 2010 was an unfinished sentence of a year. I’d had fun with friends and family but not gone much of anywhere. My annual performance review at work had gone swimmingly, they loved me. I still only liked them as friends. I’d broken up with the friend who was a boy if you could call a conversation like this breaking up:
“So, I’ve been thinking...”
“Yeah...”
“So I guess we should probably...”
“You’re right, I guess we’ll just...”
“OK.”
“OK.”
I took a cab home and treated myself to a new dildo. The NJoy 11, actually. Totally worth it. If I’d known I would have bought it sooner. Probably broken it off with the guy sooner, too.
New Year’s Eve found me in a local average pub with some of the average locals listening to music I couldn’t identify and watching that slightly effeminate emcee who replaced Dick Clark. I missed Dick Clark.
I had been hanging out with a group of friends and neighbors but, citing babysitters, sinus infections and, I swear to God, general malaise, they’d trickled home. All of them except Danny. Now I call Danny a friend but he’s a neighbory friend. We’ve known each other for nearly a decade, as long as I’ve lived here, we’ve talked at this bar, in community board meetings, at a friend’s party and once during a volunteer event at the park. We’d notice if the other one disappeared but we wouldn’t know who to ask about it.
I suppose I could have just left, too. I could have gone home and kissed the cat at midnight and been in bed by 12:05 having disturbing dreams about Dick Clark’s ball. I didn’t have it in me, though, which was as much indicative of 2010 as anything else. So I talked to Danny and it was fine. Fine like George Carlin talked about fine. Which was all it needed to be except that by 11:30 I started to get pretty restless. Very restless. When I knew it was all too obvious that my eyes were flicking all over the joint and I was only half listening I excused myself to the ladies room.
After a little wait in line I got in there, peed, washed my hands then sat right back down on the toilet lid. It doesn’t happen to me often but every once in a while I get so wound up that I have to do something. It doesn’t even matter what but it has to be something. Options in the bathroom were pretty limited.
Have you ever just put your body, or maybe it’s your soul, on autopilot? It’s fun but disorienting and probably pretty dangerous. Out at the bar I let my soul take over.
“Hey Dan...”
“Yeah?” he was so solicitous, such a nice guy, always willing to be part of the solution.
“Can you..” I sounded almost embarrassed, “come help me with something, please?”
“Sure.” Totally affable. Surely that would get old quick. But not before 2011. He signalled to the bartender to hold our spots and followed me back to the rest room.
Purposely vague I tossed words over my shoulder, “I just can’t quite...thanks so much...shouldn’t take a minute.” Since it was about 10 minutes to midnight the line to the bathroom had disappeared. I slipped right in, flattened myself against the wall so Danny could squeeze in then closed the door behind me.
It wasn’t the smoothest introduction to a kiss I’ve ever performed. While sweet he’s not stupid so he had to have at least a hint that something of the kind might happen but it was still pretty abrupt. He was a good kisser and he did have the grace to kiss me back which was nice of him. Not too much spit or tongue, nice relaxed feel to it.
I was an autopilot, though, and had a mission and just less than 10 minutes to accomplish it. I slid my hands down and began to figure out the details of his belt buckle. Dan kept kissing me and let me work it out, and work him slowly but surely out of a slightly twisted pair of boxer briefs. After a few long pumps in my hand I began to kneel and that’s when he stopped me.
With one hand he encouraged me to keep pumping. With the other he did his own figuring. My skirt wasn’t terribly long but the getting up and over the tights was a tiny challenge for him. Fortunately I wasn’t wearing panties. I didn’t have any clean ones.
I worried my thumb over the head of his cock and he did the same for my clit. I jumped a little and laughed. He chuckled back. He worked his other fingers over my labia and down between them getting slick and slippery. I spread my legs a little, hoping he’d take the hint and he did. He put just one finger inside and immediately I had to insist it wasn’t enough. I snaked my own hand under all those clothes and manipulated his hand until there were three of them in there to the hilt. I ground my clit against that fleshy pad of his palm and found I was rhythmically squeezing his dick. He used his free hand around me to get me back to an up and down motion, he didn’t stop the slight twisting motion I had going.
At that point, frankly, I quit paying attention to him. I knew, if I could just position his hand correctly I could get where I was going. I grabbed him by the wrist and wasn’t gentle. Even had to stand up on my tiptoes a little. His fingers couldn’t move much inside me but a little was enough. I loved the short strokes. I ground down with my pubic bone against his palm and just concentrated on coming. He moaned a little and I thought I was being derailed but with a slight turn of my hips and more pressure I was at that edge you can’t help but fall off of. One more second, I held my breath and came hard enough that my thighs quaked. A couple of seconds later my hand, covered by Danny’s and wrapped around his cock felt warm and squishy with his come.
Upstairs a cheer arose, “Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year,” Danny smiled.
“Happy New Year,” I replied a little wryly.
We shared an awkward peck on the lips and turned the water in the sink on just before another holiday patron started banging on the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment