Thursday Night's Events

I showed up at the bar in a short khaki skirt and a little pink lace top. I saw him take this in when he opened the door for me. So far so good.

The usual routine ensued. Beer for me, football on tv, J chops fruit, gets ice, stocks the bar, etc. We do the whole "What?" dance. He tells me about his roommate's new skank girlfriend and complains about her always using his contact solution, so frequently that he's taken to hiding it in his room. Oddly, I had a dream earlier in the week that J and I were at a bar together and for some reason he decided to take his contacts out while we were at the bar. Then he gave them to me with his contact solution to hold onto for him so he wouldn't lose them. I tell him about the dream, and he agrees that it was weird. Then he says, "I had a really weird dream last night, but it was sexual. Do you want to hear about it?"

I shrug.

"You were in it," he offered.

"Oh, well in that case I definitely want to hear it."

"It's weird because in my dream you had a khaki skirt on too. Hmm." He pointedly looks at my skirt. "Anyway, you came in the bar and you were acting all cocky for some reason. And I was like, 'The fuck's wrong with you?' And you wouldn't stop. So then all of a sudden you pull your skirt up and you're wearing this little strap on. And I mean little like this: (estimates about 4 inches with his fingers). And I started laughing at you like 'What do you think you're going to do with that little thing?' You know?"

I laugh because it's the exact same reaction he would have had were it for real and not just a dream.

"So then you're like 'I'm gonna fuck you with it.' And you did! You bent me over the pool table. You called me your whore."

"HAHAHA! I did?" I think this is great, but also hilarious because I just can't picture that happening in real life.

"Yeah, you did. I remember you calling me your whore."

"That's hot."

"No it isn't. It's just weird," he concludes. "But then when I woke up I remembered that I'm still supposed to fuck you in the ass (this is in reference to some deal we made while we were on vacation together a while ago) and then I had to jerk off."

"Really? That's hot too." He knows I love it when he tells me he was thinking about me and jerking off.

The whole time he's talking he keeps glancing at my skirt. I kept shifting around on the barstool hoping he'd catch a glimpse of my cute pink panties.

J excused himself to use the bathroom and I turned back to the football game. When he came back out he yelled to me, "Hey did you see they stained the doors?" The owner had put up new doors for the bathrooms a while back and they had stayed bare wood for months. I walked back to where he was standing to check out their handiwork. After admiring the door for a bit, J suddenly reached down and pulled the edge of my skirt up to my waist. He looked at me for a second and then grinned and said "Just checking." I laughed and wrapped my arm around his waist to hug him, but before I could get any closer he ran his hand down my stomach and then trailed his finger along the edge of my panties. I leaned forward to bury my head in his shoulder and kissed his neck. He had wrapped his other arm around me now and was cupping my ass in his hand, holding me against him. His fingers moved from the edge of my panties to my clit which he pushed down on with his thumb. I shuddered and leaned hard against him, clutching at his shoulder now as he began massaging my clit through my panties. His breath was hot against my cheek and I could feel him growing hard against my leg. He was getting me so worked up, working his fingers in tiny circles. I could feel myself getting close and I reached down and plunged two fingers into my pussy, finger fucking myself while he sped up his own pace. When I came I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming so the owner (who lives upstairs) wouldn't hear. J's arm wrapped around me holding me against him is all that kept me from falling to the floor. Knees still shaking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulder while I caught my breath. "I jerked off to you this morning, so I thought I would jerk you off too," he said.

"Well that's sweet of you," I laughed. He held me like that for another minute and then pulled me into the bathroom with him, closing the door behind us.

"You liked hearing about that dream, didn't you?" he teased while he undid his shorts. "You like thinking about fucking my ass and calling me a whore."

"I like to think of it both ways," I told him.

He reached out and pulled me closer to him. "Oh you do, do you? You like to think about me fucking your ass?" He was half growling, half whispering this to me, his mouth against my ear. My hand found his cock and I began stroking him slowly.

"Yes," I said, "and I think you need to come over again, and very soon."* I pushed the edge of my panties out of the way and started rubbing his dick against my pussy lips, soaking him with my juices. He kept talking to me while I rubbed him against me.

"I'm going to show up one morning and wake you up. You're going to be on your knees and getting 10 inches in your ass. I am going to pound the fuck out of you, just like you were pounding my ass on the pool table. You're going to be my whore just like I was your whore in that dream. And I don't want to hear any 'ow's either. Your ass is going to be so sore you won't be able to go back to sleep. And you're going to love it. When I'm through with you you'll be begging me to cum in your ass."

Just when I started to think I couldn't take any more of his talk, he pushed me away from him and spun me around to face the sink. When he pushed my skirt up to my waist and yanked my poor soaking wet panties to my knees he said, "I have to warn you, I'm so turned on I'm going to be really quick." True to his word, after 5 or 6 good hard thrusts he pulled out and covered my ass in hot cum.

I've spent every morning since then laying in bed an extra few minutes hoping to hear a knock at the door.

* A couple of weeks ago, J showed up at my door unannounced at 6:30 in the morning. I had sent him a text that night to tell him I'd written a piece of fiction about him (this one ) and he'd called back when he got home and had me read it to him. He told me he was going to bed and hung up, and the next thing I knew he was standing on my front porch. Sorry I didn't relay the details to you all, but this one is for me. :-)

Today

For those following along from my post last Friday, today is Thursday and I am wearing a skirt.

Hopefully I will have a good story for you tomorrow.

Grumpy Today

Today I am irritated.

When I started this little experiment with my protege, S, I was very clear about one point: We Are Not Dating. And I had a laundry list of reasons to back that up: we are too good of friends to risk screwing that up, I am still not over my last relationship, I am enjoying being single and want to keep it that way, I can't promise to make a commitment to him. And he said "O.K." I have steadfastly held to that for months. It SEEMED like that was cool. Until...

Vixen is my very dear friend whom I haven't seen in a while, mostly because her boyfriend is a douche. We are having girls night on Friday and she is sleeping over. Probably the evening will consist of pints of Ben & Jerry's and some cheesy chick flicks, with some gossip thrown in here and there. I've been looking forward to it, though trying not to because I don't want to get my hopes up only to have the douche screw it up, which he is prone to doing. But back to my story.

"Don't sleep with [Vixen]," S blurts out the other night while we were discussing the upcoming weekend.

O.K., first of all...um...what? Exactly who said anything about sleeping with Vixen? I don't recall ever saying something like, "Vixen is coming over Friday and we're going to take a bath together and then fuck!" or anything remotely similar. I can't even figure out where he got that one from. I turn to him incredulously and say as much. "I don't know. She's pretty...I just don't want to share you with anyone."

Exactly what part of "I am not your girlfriend" was unclear? I have made no deals about not sleeping with other people, obviously, or I wouldn't end up with J every freaking Thursday. It's not like I've been wishy washy about it. It's not like I've ever said that maybe one day I would date him. And yet here he is, suddenly and out of the blue, asking me the one thing that I told him he could never ask of me.

What the fuck? Since when is it the boy who confuses sex with love? Guys?

What

There is a little game we play.

Every Thursday I go to the bar. Every Thursday J is there waiting for me. Every Thursday we sneak off somewhere to play.

This arrangement has obviously come to be an expectation for both of us, and yet we are both entirely unable to acknowledge that this is now the case. And so every Thursday we end up having the same, entirely bizarre exchange:

I get to the bar and sit down and J gets me a beer, which I drink while we watch football or baseball or Comedy Central and J cuts up fruit. He is a far more patient person than I, and so I always end up getting antsy and squirming in my seat and trying to will him with my mind to stop with the lemons and whisk me off to the bathroom or the basement or the dj booth. Every week he starts to feel that tension building and looks up to catch me staring at him intently. And then he says "What?" This is silly because he knows perfectly well what. He knows it and I know it, and still every time I get the same question. And then I say "Nothing." Which is also silly because he knows perfectly well I don't mean it. I say the same thing every time and he pretends to buy it - every time.

Following this he comes out from behind the bar and either sits next to me or stands near me and we pretend to watch television until phase two of our little dance, where he astutely observes and then comments on whether or not I'm wearing a skirt. Because although it's never actually been stated, if I'm wearing a skirt it means I want fucked, but if I'm wearing pants it means I just want to suck him off. And shortly thereafter, he will wordlessly walk away from me knowing that I will casually get up and follow him.

It is only when the door is locked and he is reaching for his belt that either of us dare to whisper what we really mean: "Bend over." "Fuck me harder." "Yeah, suck it."

When it is over, we walk back to the bar and slip back into the routine, watching football or talking about music, sometimes picking up a conversation in the middle, right where we left off before the "What?". As if it never happened. As if we aren't going to do the exact same thing next week.

It may seem odd that two people who are capable of (and guilty of) incredibly filthy exchanges in any other setting are reduced to the level of junior high kids when put into context of this one particular location. But you see, that is part of the draw of it. These are stolen moments. We are engaging in something forbidden. It is an erotic fantasy fulfilled that would be taken away from us if we were ever caught. And so we have to keep it a secret.

Even from each other.

Technical Difficulties

Question darlings:

Is it possible to masturbate too much?

Here is why I'm asking - I currently own 5 vibrators. One is a keychain vibrator and is really just meant to be a conversation starter at bars and whatnot. One is about 8 years old and understandably doesn't work anymore. I think I keep it around for nostalgia. My waterproof one is about 6 months old and I've already broken the squirmy motion on it. My absolute favorite vibrator, my silver bullet, is also 6 months old and is suddenly getting fritzy, I think the cord is frayed inside somewhere. If you don't hold it at a certain angle the power will cut out. Finally, last night I pulled out my biggest vibrator to find that the batteries were dead. Not low, dead.

I'm really confused. I take really good care of my babies. I make sure they are clean, that I have extra batteries handy, that I use water based lubricants with them. The only thing I can think of is that I'm using them too much. So is there such a thing?