by Bebe Wilde
If only he could be mine.
But did I want him to be my boyfriend? Sure. That would have been nice. Well, it would have been utterly fantastic. But to be honest, I just wanted to fuck him. Well, I wanted him to fuck me. I just wanted to have sex with him, that’s all. Yes, the love and romance would be nice, too. Sure, it would be. But this was about sex to me. The thought of being wrapped in his arms was almost too much to take sometimes. The fucking could be swift and quick. It could be long and slow. It could be to the point or it could last all night. It didn’t matter as long as I got it.
Would I get down on my hands and knees and beg for his love? Maybe. Would I have to? Maybe not.
But I just didn’t know how to go about it. I wanted him but how did I do that? I knew I had to be confident because a confident girl always gets her man. Right? I hoped so.
Oh, who was I kidding? He was so perfect, he’d never want me. But then why wouldn’t he? I didn’t know. I just had this conflict. Should I go for it or not? What should I do? I didn’t put myself out there that much. I wasn’t a wallflower at all, but I hesitated with him. I guess the reason was because I was afraid he’d reject me.
But I had to know. I made the decision that now was the time to get him, if I were to ever have him. I knew he was available as I’d heard him speaking with the doorman once and had said he’d just gone through a bad breakup. I could relate. I’d gone through a few of those, the last of which almost drove me out of my mind. That was the main reason I’d moved into this building in the first place. Gage also had said that he was sure as hell glad it was over, even laughing that he might just be finished with women for good.
I think that was the real reason I was afraid to approach him. He was finished with women. That’s what he’d said, even if it had been in a joking manner.
But if I had anything to say about it, he wasn’t going to be finished with women any time soon. He was my man. He just didn’t know it yet.
So, what lengths would I go to in order to get the man I wanted? The man who was, quite literally, the man of my dreams? Even though I hated running, I bought myself a pair of running shoes and some shorts and a good sports bra. And I waited. I waited until I knew he was out in the park, jogging. Then I put my gear on and headed out, but not before checking myself in the mirror. I looked good. My shoulder length brunette hair was pulled into a cute ponytail and I had just enough makeup on to still look natural. My lips were full and shined with just a tad of lip gloss. I worked out some but didn’t love it, to be honest. I had to force myself to the gym a few times a week. But my sporadic efforts had paid off and my body looked good. I was thin, pretty and ready to get my man.
Once in the park, I had a feeling that this was a bad idea. I wanted him, sure, but would I look too obvious? Like I just headed out to find him? Maybe. The thought didn’t settle well with me and I was about to give up and head back to my apartment when I saw him. He was on the jogging trail doing his thing, keeping in shape and looking like a Greek god.
Again, if only he could be mine.
I hadn’t given up on love as some women do when they go through bad breakups. I loved love. Love was great and it was especially great when it was new. I loved new love and that might have been the reason I couldn’t stay with any one man for any length of time.
But I didn’t want to get into the psychology of that just right then. I just wanted to get my man. I pushed all thoughts of why I might be doing this out of my head and readied myself. I got on the jogging trail and started to run. I kept my eyes on my prize, Gage, who was just up ahead of me.
I had to keep in mind that a confident girl gets her man. I had to be confident. I had to let him know I existed without intruding on his personal space. I had to make sure that I didn’t come off as needy or desperate. So, I squared my shoulders and sped up a little, falling into place beside him. I ignored him, like I didn’t know he was there. Obviously, I did know he was there, but I didn’t want him to know I knew he was.
He glanced over at me. I ignored him. We were just two people who lived in this gigantic city taking a run on a sunny Saturday afternoon. That’s all.
“Oh, hi, Lana,” he said and smiled at me. “I didn’t know you ran.”
I almost fell to the ground. He knew my name! Sure, he’d introduced himself in the elevator once and we’d nodded at each other in the lobby but I’d kept my distance. He made me more than a little nervous. Suddenly, I felt like a fool. He didn’t know I ran? No, of course he didn’t. I just started today. Was I that obvious? Oh, I felt so stupid. I was about to say something and just make an excuse and leave, probably burying my head in the dirt along the way, when out of nowhere, I tripped over an overgrown root in the trail and fell right on my face.
“Ahh!” I screamed, feeling the pain of bad fall. Ouch, ouch, ouch! Boy, I am so sure that looked cool. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I would have rolled my eyes at myself.
“Are you okay? Are you okay?” he asked and dropped down beside me. “Here, let me.”
He looked at my face, nodding, then turned it this way and that way. I liked the fact that he seemed to know what he was doing.
“Not too bad,” he said. “An abrasion and probably some bruising on your forehead.”
I nodded.
“We should get you cleaned up,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said and waved him away. “I’m fine.”
“No, you should get it cleaned for sure,” he said, nodding.
“It’s fine,” I said feeling so utterly stupid I wished the ground would swallow me up.
“I can do it for you,” he said. “I’m a doctor, an ER doctor. I can take care of it for you. I have my kit in my apartment.”
My mouth dropped. I had no idea he was a doctor! Or that he worked in the emergency room! That meant he was super good! He really was the man of my dreams as I’d always had a thing for doctors. How strange. But no. This hadn’t gone according to plan. I had to get away from him and fast. I had to get away, tend to my bruised pride and hope and pray he didn’t catch on to what I was doing. I was just so embarrassed. I hadn’t planned on any of this. I had just wanted to take a jog, maybe have some nice chitchat and then have him ask me out, like to dinner. I didn’t want to come off as some klutz.
But he was asking me to his apartment. I suddenly felt better about the situation. I’d never been to his apartment before. But… No. I should just make an excuse and leave, give up on love and put a band aid on my scrapes.
“That’s okay,” I told him, nodding. “I’m fine.”
“No, you might not be,” he said. “I want to help you.”
He wanted to help me? Oh, wow! Maybe, in some weird, fucked up way I had made that connection I had so needed to make with him. Could this be so?
“Come on,” he said and helped me up. “I have some stuff in my apartment. You’ll be as good as new. Let’s go.”
Why not? The day was shot anyway.
We didn’t talk much on the way back to our building. He asked me if I was feeling queasy and told me to walk slowly and asked me a few times if I was alright. Did I have double vision or anything like that? No, and no. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach but not because of my injury. I wished I was one of those girls who just walked up to guys and asked them out. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t shy or anything like that. I just liked to keep my cards closer to my vest than others.
We took the elevator up to his apartment. He unlocked his door, stepped aside to let me in then walked past me towards the bathroom, telling me to sit on the couch and he’d be right back.
I sighed and sat down on his cool modern sectional, then looked around the apartment. It was such a bachelor pad. The old hardwood floors were covered here and there with worn but super cool Persian rugs. In addition to the sectional, he had a vintage camel leather club chair and a big wooden coffee table that was covered with newspapers and magazines and empty beer cans.
I looked around. The layout of his
apartment was just like mine with the kitchen in back through a swinging white door. But it was more laid back than mine. I liked it here. It felt comfortable and nice. It was a place you could kick your shoes off and snuggle up on the couch with a beer while you watched your favorite game on his oversized TV.
He smiled at me as he came back out with an old, leather doctor’s bag.
“A graduation gift,” he said and held it up, grinning.
“Oh?” I said, really liking that bag. It was worn to perfection brown leather with these great leather-wrapped handles. I wanted one just like that! It was so cool! But where would I carry it? I’d look quite ridiculous toting that thing around. Maybe I could display it on a shelf… I shook myself. What was wrong with me? Lusting over an old bag? Maybe I was just trying to focus on something besides this handsome man who was now promising to “fix me right up.”
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and he sat down beside me. Then he rummaged around the bag, pulling out some ointments and bandages. He told me to sit still as he checked out my face again and then cleaned it with some alcohol which burned like a little fucker. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. Then he put an oversized bandage on my forehead, right over the large bump that was forming.
I glanced at myself in the extra-large floor mirror he had next to the front door. I looked like an idiot. An idiot with a big bandage on her head. Again, I felt so utterly stupid.
“Well, thanks,” I said and stood, wanting to get out of there. I glanced down at him, still sitting on the couch, and felt my heart ache a little. Why did he have to be so damned good looking?
“You can stay a while, if you like,” he said, looking up at me. “You know, just in case you start feeling odd.”
I looked down at him and then and there decided something. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him to see if this could go any further. I wanted to kiss him to see if there was anything there, if there could be anything there.
Why not? I’d already made a big fool of myself. Why not lean down and press my lips to his and just kiss him? Why the fuck not? If it ended badly, he’d just avoid me and refer to me in his mind as that crazy chick who tried to seduce him.
And, so, I did. I leaned down and pressed my lips against his, not caring if he liked it or not. I had to see what might happen. And what happened? He responded. He responded by moaning slightly as if what I was doing felt so good he couldn’t contain his response. His lips opened and we kissed gently, sliding our tongues almost shyly into each other’s mouths.
I pulled away first.
“I’ve been waiting for months for you to do that,” he breathed, his eyes opening to stare at me.
What?! I leaned back and stared at him.
“I’ve been wanting you,” he said, giving me an intense look. “But every time I try to talk to you, you don’t talk to me. Not much, anyways. I thought you didn’t like me. I guess that made me like you more.”
What the fuck? Seriously? I hadn’t talked to him because every time I was around him I was overcome with shyness. So he took that to mean I didn’t like him and that made him like me more? I didn’t understand it but I’d take it. Why not? It wasn’t what happened, but he didn’t have to know that.
“And now this,” he said and grabbed my hips, pulling me towards him, pressing his face into my stomach and breathing in deeply. “Now this. What is this, Lana?”
He looked up at me. What was it? It was what it was. It was this. This intense moment we were sharing together. But I was beyond that. I was hot for him, strongly needing his touch. He’d already stirred up the lust in me and I wanted more. He had to give it to me. I had to demand it.
“Just fuck me,” I said out of nowhere, surprising both him and myself. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
He stared at me like he was overwhelmed by my forwardness but then he did what most men would do in a situation like that—he shut his mouth and fucked me.
No words came from his lips as he went to work on me. He pulled my running shorts down until they were around my ankles, then grabbed me by the hips and pulled me back into him, into his face so he could press into my stomach again. Like that, his hand went up my shirt, sneaking its way towards my breasts. The other hand was on my hip, keeping me secure, keeping me under control.
I waited, barely breathing, for his next move. I didn’t have to wait long because he lifted my shirt up, then stood and pulled it off. I slipped off my shoes and my socks and then my shorts. Feeling a surge of confidence, I took the incentive and pulled my panties off too, just to show him I meant business. That’s how much I wanted him. Shirt off, pants, shoes and socks. And panties. I was almost naked in front of him. All I had on was my sports bra. He unsnapped it like a pro and it fell off me and to the floor.
Now I was naked, totally naked. He couldn’t take his eyes off me, off this naked woman in front of him. Then his hands began to roam my body, up and down and around back to my butt, then down it to the backs of my thighs. Soft yet firm touches, bringing out the lust in me and making the wetness between my thighs almost froth.
He pressed his face between my legs, breathing in my female smell, breathing me in. I widened my stance and he grabbed me by the waist, leaned back on the couch and pulled me to him. I went with him, climbing on and straddled him, my pussy right on top of his face. He grabbed my ass, holding it tight and began to eat at me, suck at me and then finger me with little, hard strokes, strokes into my vagina and then to my clit, then back to my ass, pausing slightly there before moving back to tend to my clit with long, deliberate strokes with his flat tongue.
I began to grind, wanting to fuck his face, to sit on it. He kept eating at me, sucking at me, fingering me until I was so hot I was on the verge of explosion. And then I did. I exploded with orgasm, coming so hot and fast and furiously I found myself humping his face.
He didn’t mind. He loved every minute of it. The guy gave good head.
Then I was on my back, on the couch and he was between my legs. I grabbed at his clothes, wanting them off and wanting that hot, sexy man between my legs, pounding into me. He was soon naked and I marveled at his body, at what good shape he was in, then at his cock, which was long and hard and ready to fill me.
He paused to take in my breasts which were firm and full, the pink nipples erect and wanting his mouth. He grabbed them with both hands, squeezing them tightly and with intensity. He loved playing with them as much as I loved having them played with. I placed my hands on top of his and we both squeezed my tits before he bent to lick at them, lifting them up a little to lick on the underside before going to a nipple and sucking it into his mouth, nibbling just a little before coming back to my face. He kissed my face, my lips, my eyelids, my cheeks, then kissed my mouth softly. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in as close as he would go.
He pulled back. I opened my eyes and stared up at him, biting my lower lip. He stared back and fell into me, pushing himself down onto me, pinning me to the couch, not letting me go. My legs opened wide and he stuck his hard cock into me.
“Ahh!” I moaned as it filled me, arching up from the couch.
“Mmmm,” he moaned back, kissing me feverishly, then sucking on my neck before going to my breasts, giving them each a good, hard feel before bending to suck a nipple into his mouth.
And then we began to fuck. It was hot and quick and nothing like I’d anticipated. It was fevered, as if we had to do it and get it out before it left us. As if we had no choice in the matter. I pushed back against him, loving that feeling of cock being in my pussy, knowing that I was having the fuck of my life and loving every single minute of it.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, pumping into me like a wild man. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I met him thrust for thrust and soon I was coming and coming hard. But this was no ordinary orgasm. This one was filled with lust and longing and just plain love for the man who would was giving it to me. He was coming, too, coming with
such intensity I could hardly stand it. Then he came inside of me, pumping quickly and with purpose and then it was over. I had come. So had he. He fell away from me.
That was nice. When could we do it again?
We didn’t say anything for a while. Before it got weird, he propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at me.
“So, you wanna go out sometime?” he asked.
I grinned. Yeah, that would be nice, too. But first, another fuck?
Fuck Me I’m Famous
“So you’re famous,” I said, nodding at him.
He nodded back. “I am.”
“For what?” I asked and glanced around the busy restaurant, then back at him, sitting opposite me in our booth that was tucked away in the back of the room.
“I used to play ball,” he said, leaning back.
I scrutinized him. He looked like someone who might have used to be famous but was he still famous? I didn’t know him from Adam. His name was Nick and I’d been told he had played football for a team in another state. He was a big, good looking guy who was more than a little cocky. So, how did I get set up with him on a blind date? Lucky, I guess. Or not.
“I gathered that,” I said, taking in his super nice Italian suit he wore sans tie. He was a handsome man with short dark hair and a nice face. He looked rugged. A little rough. I liked that.
He nodded. My friend’s husband was a sports agent and he was in town. Her husband had told her that his client was single and she set me up with him. She was always setting me up with guys—most of them complete losers—in an effort to get me to date someone so we could do couple things together. It got on my nerves, to say the least. But we were close and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Do you like football, Cassandra?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s okay. You can call me Cassie. Everyone does. Or Cas.”
“I like Cassandra,” he said.