City of Singles

by Jason Bryan

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m going to my friend’s house tonight, and now I smell like booze,” she says with a sigh. I recognize that sigh. It’s half I-don’t-give-a-fuck, and half how’d-this-happen-again.

  She wipes her shirt with the blanket, sighs again, stands up and takes off her shirt.

  “Where is your dryer?”

  I point towards the utility closet on the far wall behind her. She tosses her shirt in the dryer, her cute naked butt turns me on again, but with a dulled ferocity. She walks over to the small sink near the shower, picks up a handful of kleenex, and begins to wipe her leaking vagina. Bowlegged and furiously wiping herself, Hanna lets out an “Ugh! There’s so much!” and shuffles to the stainless trash basket where she discards the semen I gifted her. What a waste.

  Hanna walks back over and has a seat on the couch, her hands quickly find her phone and she starts texting. I smell her musky scent mix with the hint of whiskey and popcorn, between her folded legs a tight pink slit peeks out. My hand can’t resist sliding along her inner thigh, her fingers texting rapidly as my dick hardens again. Alternating small strokes with my index and middle fingers, I draw little circles near her upper thigh, occasionally sliding a finger close enough to feel that she is still wet. Her texting doesn’t slow down and she never looks up, her hips start to grind with the motions of my fingers and I move higher up. Soon my fingers spend half their time on her upper thigh and labia, half their time teasing her clit and opening. She is soaking and yet continues to text. She looks up for a moment, smiles at me, and is back to texting.

  I move my body sideways on the couch while my hands guide her into a doggystyle position. She tosses her phone down and acknowledges my actions with bedroom eyes and a single “Oh …” Now here I am, behind her cute little bubble butt and petite waist, staring down her puffy and pink waxed pussy. I feel a huge rush of excitement and I’m already rock hard, a pop of my hips forward and the head slides in. I grab the base of my dick and stir it around inside of her as if it were a spoon in a mixing bowl, making a sex fluid omelet to coat my shaft. She lets out a little moan and a deep breath, and surprises me by sliding herself down on me, my right hand grabbing and slapping her ass. She lowers her head and puts her hands out in front of her, bracing herself on the armrest of the couch. Her motions backwards become harder and more violent, my cock getting even harder and more aroused than I thought possible, I feel the head hit something inside of her and she begins to whimper and moan with each thrust.

  The couch behinds to slide along the floor and the blanket drops from the couch. All 105 pounds of her are pushing into my double weight frame and almost knocking me over, I lean into my left knee, the sucking and slurping sounds of her pussy mix in with her moans, I feel so primal. My right leg swings out and kicks over my whiskey tumbler, probably shattering pieces of it into my foot, but I can only feel myself inside her. Slapping her ass and grabbing the back of her hair, she sits back and squats on my cock, turning her body enough to push me into sitting on the couch in the position that you’d normally be in. She straddles me facing the other way, squatting. She’s in complete control.

  Her palms hold onto my knees and her pussy clenches tight around me, her pink lips stretched tight flex and release slowly. I’m in a euphoric spasm of pleasure as she slowly tightens and releases, grinding her hips with precision control side to side, back and forth. I feel her lips slowly milking precum out of me as my cock pulses what feels like a mini orgasm inside of her. Her nails dig into my leg while holding herself steady, a faint sweat shines on her back showing the effort she’s putting in. Her motions forward and backward are visually hypnotic, from her arched back giving me a beautiful look at her pink asshole and swollen lips, to being tucked forward and having hidden her softest bits.

  Her odour tickles my nose, her moans a delight to the ears. Closing my eyes for a moment and the sensations run wild in my mind. Each sense taking input at once, overloading my mind with savage fucking. My hips thrust upwards and penetrate her deeper, she lets out a gasp, her legs quiver. Sharp nails burn into my skin and she thrusts back. I pull my hips away as does she, almost uncoupling, then ramming together again forcefully. Groaning and breathing deep, she pushes herself up and leans her back into my chest. I sit her thighs on mine and lay flat on my back on the couch, her on top of me, both facing the ceiling. I kick her right leg onto the backrest of the couch and grab onto sweaty hips. Back arched, screaming as she feels the head of my cock nudge her insides.

  Sweat slides between our steamy bodies, her salivating vagina takes a fast pounding that violently echoes in the studio with the beating of meat wet together. The couch slides again, her arm comes up and grabs me by the back of my head. Deeper, harder, her ass banging hard into my hip bones, faster. She groans and turns her head and bites the leather of the couch, her legs begin to shake. My body tense, our tempo building and building to finish, she sits up and braces herself with her hands, “Oh .. Oh ...” she holds her breath. I’m drilling her as hard as I can, my dick buries itself in her with each thrust, pulling back until I’m almost out of her. She lets out a fluttering “Ohhohohhhhoo,” and she moves barely off of my shaft, her hand grabbing her crotch as I feel a splash on me. My arm pushes her down and my cock finds its way inside her, about to cum myself, she groans and snaps her legs together and pushes her pussy down on me. It’s so tight my cock has to literally explode inside her to ejaculate and I count over a dozen strong pulses, filling her completely with my load. She collapses on me, wet from sweat, breathing hard, and shaking.

  Moments pass and our breathing slows, she lets out a few sighs and giggles then rolls off of me to go clean up. “Toss me a towel!” I yell before she throws one over. The couch and I are soaked. Finishing the clean up, turning to see she is already dressed and spraying herself with perfume. Being naked and totally spent, my penis grows more flaccid with each passing second. She picks up her phone and says “Oh, shit!” then turns, and runs towards her boots.

  “He’s been waiting!” she smiles as she says this.

  “I feel so bad!” I raise an eyebrow and smirk.

  No you don’t.

  She grabs her purse and gives me a hug, turns, and walks out of the studio.

  The falling back on the couch is turning into an art form. Laying on the warm leather, sex drive totally satisfied with my nerves now able to feel the sting of my sliced foot. Loneliness encroaches from the little death of ejaculation. My mind is going through the immediate post-coital clarity and I can’t help but think we just used each other for sex, again. I barely know her and she barely knows me. Well, could be worse, I could be the guy picking her up after waiting for her to finish banging me.

  30 Wound

  I can’t go too long without some drama. It’s been almost a full week of positive thinking, and now this. Misha is heartbroken. Her new boyfriend was caught cheating on her, what a plot twist. I’ve been on the phone for twenty minutes trying to console her. Noticing my socks smell like a freshly opened bag of doritos at around the 5 minute mark makes me a bad listener. Between sobs a fresh pair is put on. By the 15 minute mark I was picking at a hangnail while telling her to calm down.

  Apparently she did so much for him and had been the best girlfriend she could. She described how she even looked past his one misshapen ear, and his back hair. I think she forgot how she also bragged about his job and how much money he made working the oil sands. She’s going to get off the phone as Kiki showed up at her place with some Valium. I tell her we’ll grab a late dinner after I finish work and hit the gym.

  She whispers “Ok, call me, bye,” and I hang up. How can’t Misha see that without any shared values, relationships are pointless. She encouraged him to go to Vegas and party with his friends, and then is shocked that he has ass on the side? Not to mention the fact that she’s been talking about how much she wants kids, and this guy isn’t the settling down type. Maybe you always want what you can’t have?

  Huma
n nature at work pushing and pushing us to get what we want, not wanting what we have.

  I’ve fucked Misha at least a dozen times. She has a beautiful petite body, one tit is a little lopsided but I still even like the smaller titty. Her kiss is soft, she never forces her tongue into your mouth like so many club tramps and party skanks I’ve met. I remember when I had bound her wrists together under the ottoman for my couch, had her ass in the air naked and her face pressed against the purple leather. Her tanning sessions paid off well, a bronze body and silky waxed girlflower right in front of my face. She gasped and moaned when I blew gently on her clit. I put my mouth an inch from her opening, my nose almost tickling her asshole, and I dart my tongue inside her. She writhed in pleasure, grinding, my tongue a torch dropped into a pit of snakes. Her body moving all around, in and out of shadows cast from her thick ass cheeks, the ottoman skidding on the concrete floor. As far as sex goes, she’s amazing, it’s too bad that’s all we’ve got.

  Does it always come down to sex? I wonder if there is a healthier way to date. She met this guy online. Online dating allows for people to come in and out of your life with very little actual investment, as their lives and social circle are completely independent. I can’t blame the guy, dating these days is a game, for sport. Who has a plan to look for a wife? It’s a free for all, have fun, do whatever. The pattern formed in my early 20s continues in my life, and the men around me.

  Find, fuck, dump. What threw out the expectations of how I should date? I sigh. I’ve been staring at the ceiling again. The sex I had with her was very pleasurable but ultimately hollow and meaningless temporary pleasures. Debating philosophy with myself is worse than masturbating with an angle grinder. Shuffling over to a mirrored cube near my window, a zip lock bag, scissors, and rolling papers are used to bring calm to my ruminations.

  I’m sitting in a haze. Tapping of rain and the backup beep alarm of a truck pierces my veil of solace. Smoke makes sure there are no worries and no cares, soon I’ll be thinking of food. Yeah, I think this is why I can’t get those nice abs I’ve always wanted. Misha would be a great girlfriend for any typical douche. I particularly enjoyed the sex, her company, her looks, her smile—when it’s genuine. I noticed she didn’t think like me, and we didn’t have any real common values. When I was younger people mattered more, women really were individuals and not just pretty things that I knew how to talk to so I could fuck them.

  Misha never seemed interested in knowing who I am and what I stand for, instead she just seemed to want a good banging. I was just something to do, someone to occupy her time and vagina. I never got beyond seeing her as a fuck buddy as a result. We’re just sexy strangers sharing a bed.

  A sigh coincides with the knowledge of what The Right Thing To Do here is. It probably won’t make a difference but I have to try. Unplugging my phone from the charger, I send her a text and ask her to meet me for a drink. Walking across the studio, I pick up one of the sketchbooks left randomly about, bring it back to the couch, and begin to doodle. I draw a rose and write a few words of encouragement. She needs this.

  For every alpha that pumps and dumps a woman like her, they are helping to create a world I don’t want to be in, full of people like me. It’s not when you make your bed that you have to lie in it, but eventually you’d get tired and regret the way you made it. A world where the notion of love is laughable, people leaving and lying on whims, abusing each other and tearing down what could have been in order to pursue a piece of ass. Meanwhile, those same women can become so heartless in their dealings with men.

  I finish the sketch and fold it so it stands on its side. Who knows if she’ll keep it or throw it in the garbage, I’m doing my piece to make her feel like she has some value outside of being a convenient cum dumpster. A quick comb of my hair follows finding clean pants and a shirt. Kiki texts me and says Misha is getting ready. She apparently had taken a ton of sleeping pills earlier. She’s ok though, Kiki made her throw them all up and most of the gel caps were still intact.

  My heart skips a beat and I feel genuine empathy. I’m not in love with her at all, but it can be hard to see someone you care about hurt themselves, and over someone who doesn’t care about them either. I’d feel like such a white knight pussy if I hadn’t already been inside her carelessly so many times. I hate how I view caring for a woman as friends seems so weak, but the gender war rages on, and it’s eat or be eaten.

  Soon I’m out the door and waving for a cab in a light rain. A stroll by the coffee shop and Natalee shoots me a smile and a little wave as I pass. She’s been even more friendly to me after seeing me soaked outside her shop awhile back.

  The thought of her makes me grin.

  A taxi pulls up and I take a ride in what smells like someone’s armpit. Ten minutes later I’m at our favorite restaurant in Kits, along the beach, from the street it looks completely packed inside. It takes me a minute to work through the crowd around the front door, recalling the food and drink here it’s no wonder it’s packed. Walking inside, light shines off blue gem eyes shining wet and pretty inside nubile hostess skulls, their bodies in skin tight dresses. My mid-thirties penis aware of every fold of perky, full breast, the way the dark fabric highlights thin, petite waist above full, round fertile hips. The waitresses have some age on their faces and busy determination on their brows. The bartender, she looks like the grizzled mama-san. The place is stuffed full and Kiki and Misha are holed up along the back wall, Misha looks ridiculous in dark glasses near dusk. I walk up and a solemn Misha stands up and hugs me. We stand at the table hugging and blocking surly waitresses for a good ten seconds.

  We sit down and I place my rose sketch in front of her. She cracks a little smile and her chin shakes a few times. Kiki puts her arm around her and Misha sighs. A waitress takes my order, double ja no, I’ll get a pint of beer. I get a pint of beer. She vanishes and Misha speaks through sniffles “I’m so sorry you have to see me this way. I just…” she takes a sip of a Caesar; it comes in a bootshaped mason jar. “I just snapped when I heard he did this. I spent so much time and money, spent so much of my heart to make him happy and he wants to keep secrets of getting laid in Vegas from me. Then I find out he’s also been seeing another girl here. Am I shit? What’s wrong with-”

  “No no no!, Mish, You’re a good person!” Kiki interrupts.

  This conversation goes on like this for quite some time.

  I try my best to listen to everything before speaking. It sounds obvious that this boyfriend of hers is still having fun and playing the field without a care. I’ve been there and I probably have no idea how many kleenex tissues have been soaked over my actions, or how many Caesars have been drank as a result of mean texts I sent.

  “Misha, you are a really good woman,” I lead into what I really want to tell her.

  “I don’t think he can appreciate you yet for who you are, a caring and loving woman. He wants the side of you that wants patio drinks and a good fuck when it’s easy. Did you ever talk about what he envisions for his life?”

  Kiki frowns.

  “What does that have to do with him cheating on her?” she states, tilting her head to one side.

  “Everything” I reply. “I have this idea that people who don’t know what they want and don’t see where they are in life are the blind leading the blind. Misha, trust isn’t always believing what comes out of someone’s mouth, but rather, a complete assessment of their character and moral fiber.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Misha whispers.

  I take a sip of beer.

  “Think about it, at one point in our culture, being a womanizer was seen as universally bad. Now, I know you Misha, and this guy is probably pretty cocksure and has money. Do you think he has much respect and belief in the values that lead to long term bliss?”

  “You’re being an asshole, Dyl!” Kiki is glaring at me.

  “No. I’m not. I’m trying to be as real as I can be with you. Look at how we date and fuck each other without even knowing muc
h about who we are as people. Women just give up the sex so easily and a few men get all of the available tail. How long was it before you guys slept together Misha?”

  “I thi-”

  “Dyl she doesn’t need a lecture,” Kiki cuts off Misha and glares at me.

  If looks could kill.

  “No, it’s ok Kayla,” Misha seems to have calmed down a little.

  “We slept together on our first date and we had been just hooking up for a few weeks before he made it official. I did all the work to see him and paid for most things.”

  Sitting back in my seat becomes an attempt to not look like such a smug son of a bitch. It’s not working. I’m not really trying.

  “I’m not saying you’re to blame here, but make yourself the prize, Mish. When a guy can go around getting what he wants with so little effort required, can you blame him for taking what’s offered?”

  Kiki kicks me under the table.

  I feel like such a dick, but I think she needs to hear it. It’s not wrong to date assholes, but just know what you’re involved with.

  Misha drinks back her Caesar. I want to explain to her that the way we date is poisonous. Lying and keeping secrets is the norm. We don’t need each other, so we don’t act like it. Then when you do meet someone who can openly talk about their desires for courtship and romance, they are the weird ones. I’ll keep it to myself for now.

  “It’s so hard to see myself as a prize when he just goes and does this to me. Why? What’s wrong with me?” Kiki hugs her and she sobs. I don’t think she can understand what I’m trying to get out there. Our methods of dating and loving are coming apart at the seams. It’s leaving plenty of people popping pills, drinking alone in their bachelor suites watching porn, or giving up on the opposite sex and going gay. Let’s get faaaaabulous! Can’t blame anyone for trying anything to find someone to love.