by Bebe Wilde
“You don’t like it?” I asked, terrified. I had never imagined that he might not like. I’d always assumed he’d love it.
“I love it,” he said.
“Damn it, Phil,” I groaned. “I just… Forgot it.”
I started to climb out of his lap, but he held me steady, not letting me more.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he said. “I was just wondering where it came from.”
I shrugged, feeling stupid and slightly rejected.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Say something else.”
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded.
I went blank. “I can’t think of anything to say!”
“Shh,” he whispered and began to lick and suck at my neck. “Just let it come to you.”
I moaned and loved the sensations he was giving me. As we were kissing and feeling each other up, I whispered in his ear, “When are you going to stick it to me?”
He pulled back and stared at me, this time with less uncertainly and more lust. “Whenever you want.”
“I want it now,” I said and started licking his neck. “I want that big, hard throbbing cock inside of me, fucking my brains out, taking me over the edge.”
“Oh, God,” he moaned. “You’re going to send me over the edge.”
Which was kinda the point.
I whispered, “What do you want me to do right now, this minute, to you? What is it you want from me?”
“I think you know,” he said.
I pulled back and stared him in the eye. “You want me to suck your cock, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You’re good at this.”
I couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction. And I hadn’t even practiced. I’d just let all this dirtiness roll right off my tongue. I asked him, “How about that blow job?”
He nodded eagerly. I grinned and kissed him once, good and hard, then kissed down his chest and to his crotch. He was still wearing his boxers and there was definitely a tent being pitched. I grabbed his hard cock and rubbed it a few times before pulling his boxers down and off. Now he was completely naked. Good. With open mouth, I took his member in my mouth and then sucked my way down, all the way to the shaft. As I came back up for air, I said breathlessly, “Tastes good.”
He moaned as I rubbed his cock with my hand.
“I’m going to suck you dry,” I said and went back down on him, sucking him steadily, then back up again. I did this several times until he moaned loudly and I tasted precum. I was about to finish him off when he suddenly grabbed me up under the arms and pushed me back. He kissed me hard, bearing down on me, like he wanted to eat me up. I was so turned on, I couldn’t think straight. The whole room smelled and felt like lust. We were steaming it up.
We rolled all over the bed, tearing at my t-shirt and panties, trying to get me naked in a hurry. When he began to suck at my tits, I shouted, “Oh, God! Yeah! Suck harder, baby!”
“Like that?” he asked and sucked harder.
“Yeah,” I moaned. “Now bite it!”
He paused for a moment, then complied. Ahh, God, yes! He bit at my nipple just enough to send me into an intense pleasure zone, one that I hadn’t been to before. I was almost shivering with bliss. I had to have more, more, more.
I demanded, “Now suck at my pussy.”
He grinned and sucked his way down my body to my pussy. He didn’t hesitate; he went in with everything he had. He told me liked the way it tasted, he liked the way it felt, he liked to touch it and suck it.
“Mmm,” I moaned. “Suck on it!”
He sucked on it, on my pussy, which was wet and hot and wanting more. He did so with such intensity, I almost bucked up from the bed. It was so intense and hot I couldn’t get enough. I found myself grinding up against his face, taking everything he had to offer and wanting more. He fingered me as he sucked, he took care, time to bring the orgasm out and when it hit me, I felt like I had been liberated.
“Come on and fuck me, baby,” I moaned and pulled at him. “Fuck me now. I want another one!”
So, he complied. He fucked me and he fucked me good. His hard and ready cock went right up in me and fucked me like it had ever fucked me before. I wanted more. I couldn’t get enough. I was being sent over the edge. As our fucking escalated, we got into a rhythm. We stared into each other’s eyes as we fucked, which made it that much dirtier, that much more sexual. It was like we were sharing something great. And we were. The dirty talk had just started it and now we couldn’t contain ourselves.
“I’m about to come!” he grunted and started pumping into me.
“Me, too,” I said and let out a wail as it hit me and hit me hard. It was deeper orgasm, coming from way down inside of me. I shook with it and shuddered, feeling such intense release I was almost beside myself.
I patted him on the back afterwards.
“How’d I do?” he asked.
“You did a mighty fine job,” I said and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me. “It was better than good.”
“We have to do that more,” he said. “Lots more.”
I cracked up. We would have to do it more. It was so good to do it; it felt like I was unleashing something that had been buried for years. It felt good to unleash.
“Next time, I want more of that dirty talk,” he said.
“Well, I am a bad girl,” I replied and winked at him. “So that shouldn’t be a problem.”
A Bigger, Better Tomorrow
I guess the reason was because I loved her. Always love, isn’t it? No. You can’t blame it on love. Or on her. I was younger then and didn’t know much about it myself.
It might not have gotten so bad if she hadn’t been so beautiful. Maybe she was only truly beautiful to me. The way you find something, some object or someone—some person—to be truly beautiful and no one else sees. But you see. And you want it. Or them.
I was living in a smaller town at the time. The town was in the South, where I was raised, where she was from. A small town, a blink and you miss it kind of place. Nondescript. Hot as an oven in the summer. Humid town. The winters weren’t so bad.
I first saw her at the college I attended. I was in my twenties, as was she. I guess we’d both started school late, as some of us do. I saw her from a distance and I knew. You know how you just know? I knew. From a distance, from the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew. Just like that.
I’m not a big guy. Just about five-eight or so. I’ve always been skinny. A hundred and forty soaking wet. Chicks don’t dig that. They like the bigger guy, the one they think will “protect” them. The one who always, always treats them like dirt. Girls don’t dig guys like me. I might actually treat them good. She had a guy like that. Always hanging around her neck like a fucking rope of garlic. I called him the noose. He was a big, hee-haw kind of guy. A big bear kind of guy. He was on the football team. I hated him on sight. I hated that she laughed at his jokes, smoothed the hair back from his face. I hated that he had her. And that meant I never would.
I hated that look she gave him when she saw him coming. You know that look. That “You made my day!” kind of look. I hated that. I guess I look alright. Skinny, as I’ve said. My face, once coated with acne, cleared up one day and turned out all right. Dark hair. A girl once told me I had piercing eyes, but I didn’t believe her. It just sounded kinda stupid.
My eyes are about the only thing I got going for me. They make up for the rest. Too bad I have to cover them with glasses.
But her. Her. Her. She. She was the most beautiful girl on earth to me. The way she looked made me a little sick inside. A little uneasy. I had a hard time looking at her cause of the way she made me feel. It was a good feeling, don’t get me wrong, but I was terrified of her seeing me. And that made me sick. To know she might know how I felt.
I could go on for days about her looks. About the tiny, white tipped fingernails, especially her pinkie nail. About her long, dark hair. About her beautiful blue eyes. M
aybe I was obsessed with her looks. She was petite but all woman. Curves hanging perfectly on an hourglass figure. Just right. Perfect. She wore these clothes, these tight-fitting clothes, and they just clung to her. Her hips, all I could think about were her hips. About how I would love to put my arms around them and hold on. Or touch the small of her back. Just touch it. There it was. I could reach out and touch.
I never did.
We’d pass each other on campus. She was the only reason I stuck with it, to tell the truth. We must have started around the same time. I’d see her in all kinds of weather, but I liked her in Spring the best. Just before the days got warm, right when the trees were blooming. Her cheeks would be pink, like she’d just pinched them. She’d be bundled up in the morning and as the afternoon rode by, she’d slowly start to come out of those clothes. It was like a long strip tease. First her coat. Then her sweater. Slowly. I’d see her in the student center and there she’d be in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She always wore that same kind of outfit. I didn’t know then, but she didn’t have much to choose from. She came from a working class family. And she was on work scholarship.
Which meant most afternoons she worked at the library. I lived for those afternoons. My last class was at twelve. I didn’t have to be at work until six or so. I’d grab a snack in the cafeteria, then head over, eating it. I’d get there early and set up. Always someplace different. I didn’t want to be too obvious. Sometimes, I’d just sit on one of the couches. For hours. Other times, I’d get a table, spread my books out and pretend to do homework, like I needed someplace quiet. Sometimes, when I knew she had to work in the stacks, so I’d set up near there.
She’d get there about one or so. She was rarely late. Rarely. Sometimes when she was late, I’d start to panic, thinking she might have had an accident or something. But most days, she was on time. She had an air about her. She’d breeze in, smile at the other goons who worked there. Most days, she’d see at least three or four people she knew and she’d stop and say hello, how are you? Stuff like that. Little chitchat. I loved that. I could hear her voice. I loved to hear her talk.
She talked all the time, used a lot of slang and some curse words, which were always whispered in the library. She’d say, “shhh-it!” like that. Slow and quiet. Then she’d go behind the counter. And she’d sit and wait for someone to bring a book back or want to check one out. She’d flip through a magazine. Or she’d study.
Like I said, she liked to talk. She could talk the hind legs off a mule, as my old man would say. He says that about most gabby women. And laugh. She got in trouble a few times for laughing. She loved to laugh, throw her head back and let it rip. I’d laugh too, quieter, so she wouldn’t notice me. I’d steal glances, as they say. I’d notice if she looked tired, I’d notice if she seemed sad. And I’d wonder why. I’d think about her eyelashes and her long, brown hair. It seems so well maintained, her hair. She always kept it trimmed and it always looked so clean. I wanted to take and rub my face in it. Just breathe the clean smell in.
And she smoked. So she’d take smoke breaks occasionally. That’s when I could dash over to the cafeteria if I wanted a coke or had to go to the bathroom. She took about as many of those smoke breaks as she could get. Outside.
I never talked to her. I just couldn’t get the nerve. But one day she spoke to me, like she knew me or something and here I thought she’d never even noticed my existence before.
She said, “You study an awful lot, don’t you?”
I had been “buried” in a book when I heard her words. I froze, wondering if she was onto me. But when I looked up, her eyes were laughing. Not in a mocking kind of way, more of a giggly kind of way.
And know what I said? “Uhhh…yeah…I guess.”
Like an idiot! Hell, a monkey could have come up with something better than that. God, I felt like such a fool.
She smiled, turned and walked away.
That was the only interaction I had with her.
Some people might say, why didn’t he do something? If he wanted her that bad, if he was so infatuated, why didn’t he get off his sorry ass and do something? Truth is, I didn’t want to. I liked that distance between us. Even if it meant never realizing my infatuation. I like to observe her. It was our time. It was more precious than an awkward date. If I’d asked her out and she’d accepted, then guess what? She could decide then and there she didn’t like me and I’d never be able to see her again. And I’d never see her in that light again. She’d become human, someone who had rejected me.
Yeah, mostly, I was just afraid of rejection. What could a guy like me offer someone like her? I wasn’t rich, or macho or charming. I knew that. All I had was some intelligence. I was really good at math. Big deal. What kind of girl says, “I want a guy who does well in math?” Exactly.
I remember that day it happened. I guess in the back of my mind I knew it was gonna happen, sooner or later. It was Wednesday afternoon, mid-March. Cool outside and the sky was gray. They’d forecasted snow for later that night.
She took a smoke break. I headed to the bathroom, where I saw a guy who was in one of my engineering classes. We talked for a few minutes. I kept checking my watch ’cause it was almost five and she got off at six. I only had an hour left. He kept yakking. I was finally able to shake him off and resume my position in the stacks, where she was working that day.
I settled myself into a big, comfortable orange chair, checked my watch, looked around for her, and then stuck my nose in a book.
Then the jerk from my class came over to me and hunched down like a damned monkey and started jabbering. I could have floored him. Right then and there, I could have knocked him out. I didn’t even know what he was saying; I was so angered that he was cutting into my time. I checked my watch again. She was five minutes late. Then ten. He was still talking. He had the oiliest hair I’d ever seen and the thickest glasses. Fifteen minutes. She wasn’t coming back. Maybe she was up front now. Shit! I’d have to move.
I pulled on my coat and started to gather my stuff when he finally got the point and left. I nodded as he departed and crammed everything into my backpack. As soon as he was out of sight, I pushed my backpack behind a chair and walked up front. She was nowhere in sight. I walked all around the stupid library but she was nowhere to be seen.
It was getting late. I started to panic, thinking she might have fallen or something. I gave up and went outside, toward the place where all the smokers hung out. It was this little alley like place. You had to walk all around the building and then in between this concrete wall and the back of the library. A pain in the ass to get to.
I made it over there. I was just going to check, so I wouldn’t go out of my mind with worry about her. The wind was up and it was cold that day. The sky had already begun to darken. A couple of streetlights had cut on. I adjusted the collar of my coat and started towards the “pit” as they called it.
Then I heard the sounds.
Someone was groaning. As if they were being hurt. I ran towards that sound. What I saw made me stop short. There she was, pinned against the wall and this guy was on top of her. I thought he might be hurting her, but I soon realized he wasn’t. He wasn’t because he was fucking her. His pants were around his ankles.
I could see her head moving up and down the wall as he fucked her. Up and down. She had this look on her face. I’d never seen that look before. A satisfied look. Inflamed? Impassioned. Like she’d just had someone scratch that place on her back that always itched but she could never get to.
Her hair was all in her face. She moved it away, then held his head as he pushed her shirt back and sucked on her breast. He ate at it and she really liked that. The moan that escaped her lips told me that.
“Oh, God, yes,” she moaned.
I felt sick.
Then I realized it wasn’t even her boyfriend. It was some other guy. I’d never seen him before. Couldn’t really tell much about him. I could tell that he was giving it to her and she liked ev
ery bit of it. It’s like she couldn’t get enough. It was like they were locked in an embrace neither one of them could get out of. And they were. They were taking from each other only what a man and a woman can give. They were having a good time, too. The moans and grunts that escaped their lips told me that much.
I don’t know how long I stood there. I don’t know how long they’d been there, fucking as they were, enjoying each other’s bodies in that way. I had only had sex a few times at that point, but none of the experiences were that great. They had been hurried affairs, slightly drunken. I wanted to do it more, of course, and I wanted to do it with her. More to see how she’d react to me more than anything else. Would she put her arms around my shoulders then smile at me as I bounced her up and down? What would she do? Would she grunt and groan as she was doing with him? Would she orgasm?
She suddenly grabbed onto him and buried her head in his shoulder and out came this pure animal groan sound…
“Uuuugggggggggggggggg…ohhhhhhhh…ahhhhhhhh…”
Then she was still. He kept pumping.
She looked up, towards me. I don’t know if she saw me or not. It was dark by then. A small smile came onto her lips like she’d heard something really amusing but it didn’t make her laugh. It made her think more than anything else. Then he started to grunt and she focused on him.
I stumbled back, nearly fell, and then ran. I didn’t know where I was running or why. I just ran. I found myself back in front of the library. I stared at the doors; they were slightly encrusted with dirt and grime. I had left my backpack in there.
I went inside grabbed my backpack and prepared to leave except my legs felt weird, jelly-like. I found a chair in the far corner and sat.
I sat for a while. A few minutes, maybe more. I just sat and let the image of her fucking come back and haunt me. I heard footsteps. I didn’t pay any attention. I was so wrapped up in the thought of her and that guy. That someone stopped in front of me. I saw the shoes first. Black penny loafers. Female shoes. No socks. I stared up. Jeans, well worn, perfect fit around the hips. A white t-shirt. Rounded breasts. A tiny chin, full lips, freckled nose and big blue eyes. It was her. She didn’t move.