I had a boyfriend once. Actually he was my first ever serious boyfriend. I don’t think that it would be fair to use his real name here though, so from this point on I will refer to him as Dick, which I think is a much more fitting name for him anyway than his real one.
Dick and I had been going out for about 7 months, and to be quite honest I was really questioning whether I still wanted to be with him. He was ok to me, but the initial rush of lust that he’d seemed to have for me had quickly burnt out once he knew he ‘had’ me, and lately I had been feeling more and more as if I was just some kind of unpaid escort for him, some trophy to parade around, and good for a screw when he was in the mood. (Never wanted it when I said I was in the mood, which in hindsight I think was just one part of a larger power play thing he had going on).
Our relationship had slipped into a very predictable routine; he liked drinking, he liked pool and he liked sex (on his terms). So consequently, apart from the occasional dinner out (where we always ended up at the local pub afterwards anyway), our relationship consisted of going to the pub, playing pool, and fucking in the backseat of his car (he often liked to pop out for a quickie between drinks), or back at my place. I lived stumbling distance from the pub, and I suspect, also in hindsight, that this might have been a bigger attraction for him than any of my other charms.
On this particular day we had got to the pub at around three in the afternoon, and as none of his other (more skilled than I) pool playing friends were there yet, I was given the dubious honour of being his doubles partner. Dick and I playing pool together was always either really good, or really bad.
I hadn’t played a lot of pool before I met him, and had always been an instinctual player, rather than a technical one anyway, but when I was on a roll, I could pull some sensational shots out of the hat. He was the opposite, he took his pool very seriously, according to him, his reputation was riding on whether he won or lost, and after years of practice his game was based on technique, a textbook player paired with an instinctive one, not a good match.
When I was on my game, he was happy, but when I wasn’t, he’d be sure to make a big show of telling me rather loudly what I’d done wrong, and would try and instruct me on how to play my next shot, making sure that any onlookers would be in no doubt that if we lost, it certainly wasn’t his fault. This often drew sympathetic looks in my direction, and I tended to find it rather humiliating.
But, fortunately, on this afternoon, I was on a roll, and as we kept the pool table, game after game, while many drinks were drunk, and several joints had been smoked by Dick (I didn’t smoke, not that anyway, I hated the stuff), Dick had got into a particularly jolly mood. It was always good of course when he was jolly, because a cranky Dick was definitely not fun to be around, but a jolly mood did tend to bring on another annoying behaviour of his.
The more intoxicated he became, the more amorous he became also, but he did not project this with even the smallest amount of subtlety. He would like to grope, my breasts, my arse, he’d like to slip his hand up my top or skirt, letting everyone know that I was his. Admittedly, when we first started going out, I found this kind of flattering, like he wanted me so much that he couldn’t keep his hands off me, but as time passed, it seemed that it was more about possession than any kind of passion. He didn’t seem to mind much when I told him it was annoying, he’d back off for a bit, but then move in again a little while later to cop another feel, I guess it was all the dope and drinking affecting his memory capabilities…
But I digress.
On this particular afternoon, the pool was great, Dick was in a jolly mood, and I was having an all right time, but starting to get a bit bored. Fortunately though, by this time several of our other friends had turned up, which held some promise of it turning into a fun night. Happy as he was, Dick didn’t mind when I suggested we give up the pool table, he always liked doing that anyway, the whole idea of choosing to give up the table, he felt reinforced for the other players, his superiority in the game.
So we grabbed a couple of drinks, and while I went and sat with our friends, he popped out for another joint. When he came back in I could see the glint in his eye, and I could see he’d switched his attention from pool to sex, so I wasn’t surprised when he suggested we pop out for a quickie in the backseat of his car. I was most definitely not in the mood for that though, and fortunately (unusually) he took it with reasonably good grace when I declined (it must have been a particularly good smoke).
Unfortunately though, now that the pub was so crowded, there weren’t any spare seats left, and not wanting to stand, while the rest of us sat, he suggested that he could sit on my chair and I could sit on his lap. Knowing what he was like when he was in this kind of state, I wasn’t exactly shocked (annoyed, but not shocked) that once I was sitting on his lap, his arms snaked around me, hand slipping up under my skirt, while he whispered in my ear how sexy I was and how he wanted to fuck me right then and there. He moved his hand inside my knickers, slurring ‘come on baby, I know you know I can make you feel good’. And I did try to get myself in the mood, tried to focus on the sensation as he tried to arouse me, but my body was having none of it, it knew that my mind was working far to hard trying to convince myself of this, for it to respond.
And it was just at that point, when I was about to turn around and tell Dick to cut it out, it just wasn’t happening for me, that I noticed the man across the bar watching me. He was not traditionally good looking, but he had an aura about him, he exuded a magnetism, for me anyway, don’t know about anyone else. His eyes didn’t waver when he saw me notice him. He didn’t break his gaze like most people would, feeling slightly embarrassed for being caught staring. No, he just kept a strong steady gaze on me and smiled, I smiled back, and felt a sudden rush of heat in my body.
Dick noticed it too, saying ‘that’s right baby, that feels so good doesn’t it?’ as he kept fondling me, thinking this response from my body was because of him. Only I knew it wasn’t, and perhaps the man across the room, there certainly seemed to be some very weird connection going on between him and me. He kept watching me, leaning against the bar, smoking a cigarette, and I took the time to take in more of him. He was tall, well built, solid and strong, he wore black jeans, a black top and a black coat, my kind of style. But what grabbed my attention the most were his hands. His fingers looked long, strong and capable, and I was sure he’d know how to use them when trying to please a woman.
Dick was still fondling me, fingers getting more and more persistent as he could feel my arousal, naturally enough thinking he was responsible, I could feel his erection growing as I sat on his lap. But as soon as I thought of Dick, I felt myself shut off. I didn’t want to shut off though, I was loving what was happening with this man across the room, this felt like really good sex, unlike the more wham bam thank you ma’am’ type of sex that I was used to sharing with Dick. This had an excitement, an intangible quality that I couldn’t name, but I could feel.
I knew it was probably very very wrong, but I really don’t think I could have made myself miss out on this experience even if I’d wanted to. I was on the verge of breaking up with Dick anyway; I’d really had it with his chauvinistic ways, and being treated as a possession rather than a person. And I just couldn’t justify to myself stopping such an astonishing experience as I was having now. This was the stuff of fantasies; this was the stuff of my dreams, experiencing something with such intensity. So instead of thinking about how it was just Dick groping me, I fixed my eyes on my stranger and imagined it was our energies blending, his fingers touching me.
Then suddenly I felt Dicks hand withdraw, he’d had a better offer. One of his friends wanted him to partner him at pool, and had even bought him a beer to sweeten the deal. And I was forgotten, just like that, he pushed me off his lap and said ‘save my seat will you’, nothing else, no sorry, no apologetic smile or touch. In the space of 10 seconds or so I had gone from his plaything to his seat warmer. Neither was a role I wanted. And any skerrick of guilt I may have felt was snuffed out in that moment.
I couldn’t’ bring myself to stay another moment in his company, I had to get away, I’d had enough, I certainly wasn’t going to break up with him then and there, pissed and stoned as he was, I didn’t want to create a scene, but I didn’t want to spend any more time with him either. So the best course of action seemed to be for me to leave, and tell him tomorrow when he was sober. He barely took any notice when I told him I wasn’t feeling well and had to go home, his attention, as it was, now on more pleasurable pursuits, so I gathered my things and left.
I paused as the pub door closed behind me, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. I was feeling all sorts of things, anger at him, relief that I had finally made a decision – one that sat very comfortably with me, and happy that I was going to be moving on. But swirling around my mind, above all else, was the experience I had had inside the pub, with this stranger at the bar. A stranger who had somehow managed to light me up in a way that I had never experienced before. It truly was the most intense sexual response I had ever had to anyone.
I started slowly wandering down the road, trying to think about it, apply some logic to the experience. But thinking was proving difficult as my body was still pulsing with arousal.
Then I heard footsteps behind, me, I didn’t need to turn around, I knew it was him. Without a word being spoken, he took my hand, and led me down an alleyway, pushing me up against the wall. Now that I see that written down it perhaps sounds a bit sordid, disappearing down an alley at night with a total stranger, but it wasn’t, it was incredibly exciting for me at the time, the feeling of passion and urgency, not being able to wait, it was hot, and the foreplay I’d engaged in with him across the pub had put me in the perfect state of readiness for a liaison such as this.
He bent his head and started kissing my neck, hands moulding to my body, and when I let out a moan borne of desire, he took this as a green light (which it was) and became more passionate. No longer just kissing my neck, but nipping the skin, and sucking on my soft flesh, sending sparks coursing through my body, making me feel alive. His hands became rougher too, digging into my flesh with an urgency I’d never experienced before. But again, I liked it.
Yanking up my top he transferred the attentions of his mouth to my breast, pulling down the edge of the cup of my bra which had been hiding my erect nipple, and tucking the fabric under my breast, forming a little platform, pushing my nipple slightly upwards and making my breast look fuller, an offering to him. He sucked hard, moving his tongue around my nipple. This was not gentle lovemaking, this was passionate need, and this is what I had been looking for.
I felt his thigh pushing against mine, with a sense of mastery, compelling me to obey, which I did, willingly, parting my legs to allow him in. He quickly repositioned himself so that his thigh was firmly between mine now, as he pulled up my skirt squeezing my buttocks, pressing my hips forward, so that my clitoris, with only the thin layer of silk from my underwear between me and him, was pressed firmly against his solid thigh. I lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, tilting my hips further, wanting to feel my cunt, through my now saturated knickers, rubbing against his thigh.
It took my breath away as I started moving against him, the exquisite sensation of moist fabric, and delicate, sensitized skin against his firm muscled thigh, sensations blending with the sweet pleasure and pain as he continued to suck, bite and kiss my breasts. My back was pressed up hard against the brick wall, and his hand now slid down the back of my knickers, fingers digging into my arse. An assault on my senses, so intense, I came, so quickly, it shocked me.
He’d been waiting for that moment, and while my body was still pulsing with pleasure, he whispered in my ear, ‘can I take you properly now?’ I nodded and tried to say yes, but I seemed to have lost the ability to speak properly and all that came out of my mouth was a whimper. He paused to look at my face, wanting to be absolutely sure of what I meant, and as I nodded again, he knelt down before me, and started sliding down my knickers, pausing to take some time to caress my cunt with his mouth, tasting me and what he had done to me.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, not sure whether I wanted him to stay down there or to stand back up and fill me with his cock. But he made the decision for me. Knickers gone, he stood up and undid his jeans. I was quivering with anticipation and a burning desire to see his cock now, to be able to touch it, to feel it inside me. And when he released it I felt in awe of it’s magnificence, strong and solid just like the rest of him.
I went to reach for it, to touch it, but he pushed my hand away, and lifted me up, scraping my back against the brick wall, but I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about then was sating this hunger that had consumed me. My legs wrapped around him as his magnificent cock finally entered me, my cunt drew him in, muscles contracting around his penis in welcome.
And he fucked me, and fucked me and fucked me. I lost count of how many orgasms I had, it was like each one rolled into the next, I was floating on a sea of pleasure, undulating with the motion of the waves of pleasure our bodies moving together created.
Eventually we drew apart exhausted, completely spent.
I’m really not too sure how long we’d been there; time had lost all meaning to me. We didn’t speak, our bodies had said all we needed to say, and words would have felt out of place. So, in silence we helped each other get our clothes back on and tidied up, slowly this time, the feeling of urgency now gone, and walked back up the alley way. When we reached the end he drew me towards him and kissed me, deeply, then he turned one way, and I the other as we walked away from each other.
It didn’t take me long to get home, and when I did; I went straight to my room. When I undressed I could see the signs of our passion, the bruising of love bites on my neck and breasts, light scratches made by 4 fingernails and a thumb nail on my buttocks and hips, my shoulder blades grazed slightly and red from being pressed up against the wall. And I felt good looking at these mementos of the experience, undeniable proof of having just experienced the best sex of my life.
– Judi Reed, 2012