dream, and when I open my eyes I spot the woman over at the bar, still staring open-mouthed at you. At us. I wonder if she'll enjoy the look in my eyes when you make me come as your fingers find their way beneath the hem of my short dress and past the top of my stocking.
I twist round in your arms, interrupting you, because I have to check something. I need to check that you are for real this time. And as we're hanging there, millimetres apart, with that wall still standing in between us, you have such fuck-me eyes it makes me smile. Your eyes say, "Which way now?" There's only one way left.
We swing the sledgehammer together. Let it all come down. My army is tired of fighting this losing battle and I cannot rouse it to defend my honour any more. The word "stop" never enters my head. The pull in my chest is painful and I need release. I slowly close my eyes and in the blackness I finally feel what it feels like to have your mouth on mine; and it's so beautiful that I scarcely hear the world crumbling around us. There's something happening inside me, in my stomach and behind my ribs, like a great flock of a thousand tiny birds all lifting off at once. A Kodak moment. I want it to last forever. If it never ends, there can't be any consequences.
Your tongue meets mine somewhere in my mouth at the same moment as your searching, expert fingers find their mark and I come right there as we're kissing, and it's intense, and I know you can feel it, feel my body shake and tremble, but you don't stop. You won't let me go that easy. I break the kiss and pull away - I have to. I lean against the cigarette machine and the room spins as I try to justify everything. What just happened between us? You stand off, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy, sucking your fingers, asking if I'm ok, but I can see conceit beneath the concern. You're so proud of yourself. You arrogant bastard. I'm glaring at you because no words will come. "Fuck you!" is what I'm thinking. Only I don't say that. I say, "Fuck me" instead. I don't know which of us is more surprised.
So you do. You gently turn me around and push me down so I'm leaning on the top of the fag machine. You position yourself behind me, right against my arse, and you ease my legs apart and then I feel something cold and hard slide up the inside of my thighs. Oh god, I can hardly believe what you're going to do. I'm so wet. This is so wrong. But you know how bad I want it. I want you to feel what you've done to me. With your other hand you discreetly pull my knickers aside and then it's done. It slips in easily and it's indescribable, better than anything I've ever felt inside me before - because it's finally, magnificently you. Your body pressed close to shield this sordid scene from the heaving crowd, you take me bent over a vending machine in the back of a gay bar on a hot Friday night in August and I don't give a damn if anyone sees us. All I can think is how much I love you.
You move that bottle like it's part of you and I'm riding it and imagining it is. I have no idea where you are now, whether you're with me or someone else and I don't really care as long as you don't stop. Through the throng of people between us and the bar I can still see that woman, still see her looking, smiling slightly. She winks at me, and blows you a kiss, so I know she knows. Fine with me, I love entertaining. Then I understand what's really going on. You're not just fucking me; you're fucking her too! You're screwing me slow and deep, pressing me against the wooden cabinet, sliding that cold, hard cock, your other hand stroking my clit; and you're fucking her with your eyes. I just hope it feels as good for her as it does for me. I imagine how wet you must be, how horny all this attention must have got you. I wonder how you taste and the thought of licking you and fucking you and kissing you is the cum-shot that takes me up to the edge and shoves me over it.
I open my eyes as I start to lose it and the woman from the bar is suddenly, surreally there, leaning over the other side of the cigarette machine in front of me, and she takes my face in her hands and her mouth finds mine and smothers the sounds of the orgasm tearing through me. I feel her tongue slip between my lips and I'm coming so hard I'm afraid I'll black out. And as you strip the last shreds of dignity from my shell-shocked body, between you, I realise why she looked familiar before. She looks much more familiar this close up. I recognise her from the picture in your wallet. Her ring's the same as yours. I've finally met your wife. |
