Apr 212016

R is for Road Trip, for my A to Z Challenge.

Four days after my husband demanded an end to our marriage, I drove several hours away to see a mutual friend of ours. Immediately upon my arrival, she began to discuss what he had told her already. I didn’t want her to take sides, I didn’t want to talk about it.

I visited with her and her children for hours, but already started texting another friend in the same town to get away.

This friend would be considerate about my failed marriage and let me vent if I wanted to but wouldn’t just want to talk about it, had expressed an interest in sleeping with me (with my husband’s permission at the time), and was kinky. He was surprised when I reached out to him, surprised that I wanted to come over and spend the night within hours of contacting him. We discussed going to a swinger’s club where the men walked around naked and the women in lingerie. I had never been to a swinger’s club but it sounded like a lovely distraction.

“I don’t have to sleep with anyone?” I asked, hesitant suddenly and realizing that of course I didn’t have to and how naive I sounded.

“No, and you don’t have to do anything with me, either,” he assured me, and the plan was set in motion.

Twenty minutes before we met, we learned each other’s first names – we had only known the Fetlife names prior to this.

That night after hours of conversation, we laid naked in his large bed (he didn’t have a guest bed) – neither of us wanting to sleep in clothes. We didn’t touch, and he even turned on the TV to watch a movie. I laid on my side, threw a leg over his, and he reached out and stroked my arm with his fingertips, his face never turning from the TV.

I laid there for a few moments, closed my eyes and relished the feel of his fingertips, opened my eyes and appreciated the expanse of chest in front of me. I appreciated his respect to not even once make a move on me, gave me space. I debated my next words, took a deep breath, and asked, “so are you going to have sex with me?” It wasn’t a matter of if he wanted to, I knew he did. He questioned if I was sure, and I reassured him I was, telling him but only with condoms. He muttered he wasn’t sure if he had them, rolled over and checked. My mouth fell upon his back as he searched, felt it odd that I propositioned sex and neither of us had even touched up to that point.

He found some condoms and rolled me over, his fingers immediately and painfully filled me. I felt stretched and not at all ready for the invasion, felt the urge but didn’t to ask how many digits he crammed inside of me, and yet they pounded into my body as his mouth bit down upon my nipple. It was a pain I wasn’t ready for and normally would have spoken up, and yet for some reason I accepted the pain (didn’t welcome it, just simply accepted it) as if I deserved a bit a pain, as if I needed to feel my body in a different way than I was accustomed to.

He was rough with me the whole way through, fucked my throat as his fingers pummeled inside of me, smacked the inside of my thighs and lips as he ordered me to keep my legs open. I welcomed the words far more than the sensations, couldn’t slip into the mindset of the sensations, but did nothing to stop them. When he would ask if I was okay from time to time, I just breathlessly would affirm I was fine.

And I was. I was alive and my body was being thoroughly used. As he fucked me doggy style, his hands would leave imprints on my cheeks. As he positioned me on hands and knees to fuck my mouth and until he pulsed against my throat, he flogged my ass and the tips stung against my wet lips from time to time, leaving a sting for days afterwards.

Whether from his fingers or his rough entry into my body, I would be swollen and sore just as long afterwards, but it was a content sore.

I left him hours before the dawn, unable to fall asleep next to  him. I kissed him awake, already dressed and ready to leave with my bag around my shoulder, and told him to lock the door after me, passed his sleepy form in the doorway and drove the hours away, back to my hometown to fall asleep for an hour before beginning my day.

He text me midday and ask if I got home okay and if everything was okay, since I just walked out. I responded that it had been so long since I had a one night stand, if that was what it even was, and that we both knew I was leaving in the morning, so I was unsure of the protocols and if he wanted a kiss goodbye he could have made the move.

Throughout the day we texted back and forth and expressed what we enjoyed that night and if there would be a repeat.

I left it a bit vague but told him that the swingers club sounded interesting and if were any events he wanted to attend, to let me know.

  One Response to “Another Friend”

  1. Like I said in my comment in the last post, I understand why this happened. Damn, someone had to show you that you’re still desirable, even though it was more about their satisfaction than comforting you. I hope (and think you did) found someone who is there for you, and not only in a physical way.

    Rebel xox

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