SEXY ROMANCE: Her Dark Obsession (9 page)

I don’t even think Eddie knew what love was, even though he was the type of guy who probably wrote several songs about it.

Another reason to date musicians—free drugs.  Eddie was a sharer, I got to give him that.  He shared his body and his weed.  I toked so much I fell asleep for the night, just as the sun set and stayed knocked out until the next morning.

I woke up to a very strange visual.  Mountains of human flesh before my eyes, cascading onto each other.  I shook my head, trying to decipher what I was looking at.  There were Eddie’s eyes looking debonair as always.  And then another pair of eyes looking at me.  When I came to I saw the scandal: Eddie and another woman were having sex on the same bed as I was laying on…and were practically on top of me, using my barely conscious body as some sort of pillow.

“What…?”  I managed to mutter.

“Shhh…” Eddie said, as he started fingering me.  A strange thing to wake up to, I have to admit.  I don’t think I was properly turned on, at least at first.  But Eddie loved strumming things, whether that was a guitar or a woman’s hot spot.  I did start to come, at least once, as I watched the other woman start sucking him off.

I recovered from my quick clitoral orgasm and figured out where this was all heading.  Of course, Eddie wanted a threesome.  With some chick he or I barely knew.  Free pot and no questions asked.

But I don’t know…for some reason, “Yes” just didn’t come too easy this time.  I recovered from my mini-gasm and then gently pushed the two fuckers off of me, opting to get dressed rather than join the party. 

I put my clothes back on and readied myself for an emotional goodbye, with Eddie, a wild rose, but a sweet rose all the same.  I think he had a good heart.  And I think I felt something for him…

“Oh Eddie!” the girl said.  “I really think you’d like my best friend Sheila.  She loves threesomes.  She gives the best head ever!”

“Ohhhh yeahhh I believe you, Candy Mouth.”

“So…” I said at normal volume.  “I think I’m going to be leaving now.  Sort of leaving forever?  If that bothers you.”

“Ohhhh, Debbie,” he said, hollering out and wiggling on the floor bed, not hearing a word I said.  “Call your friend right now.  And hey, bring me my Viagra out of the bathroom, will ya Regg?”

At least Eddie noticed I left, eventually, since I never did find him his Viagra.  The whole incident reminded me of just how fed up I was with this midlife crisis Mission of Yes. 

Yes was sometimes the road to forbidden pleasure, but most of the time it was just trading sex for sex, nothing more altruistic spiritual than that.  In most cases, catering to another man’s pleasure and pretending that it was my own. 

Darling, I think what I learned from all of this is that everybody has their own definition of “pleasure” and it’s silly to think that we all respond the same way to every sort of kink out there. The truth is, the only person who knows my capacity for pleasure is myself.  And I don’t have to say yes just because someone dares me to.  I don’t have to say yes, just because someone else is claiming to know my own heart.

Yes is my choice.  Yes is my right.  Yes is my sex life, and on my own terms—always or nothing.  Because sometimes, predictably, I only want romance and fluff.  Sometimes the idea of a family turns me on and soothes me more than a romp with people I don’t know who promise the world.  Sometimes familiarity is what I want and it’s my right to be boring, everyday and as “vanilla” as I please.  It certainly feels nice to release sexual tension without hurting anyone or bruising my pride, that’s for sure.

Sometimes yes is not an answer.  Sometimes it’s a feeling.  Sometimes it’s intuition, or maybe even instinct.  And the power to have an emotion, to experience it without impulsively acting on it, is what makes life beautiful.  The ability to say no is what enhances all those wonderful times when we say yes.

When I left Eddie I went home and showered for a good hour and a half—almost to the point of obsession!  In my natural naked state, and feeling the refreshing stream all over my body was something deeply spiritual for me—me who had at least reaches the lowest ebb and who had started the long process of crawling back to the top.  It wasn’t about cleanliness or any of that shit.  It was simply the act of replenishing.  The act of rinsing and wiping the slate clean and starting a new chapter in life.  I showered, then bathed then took a steam at the local fitness facility, because I felt invigorated about life again.  Water was the element of my healing.  Rinsing away the mistakes of the past, and the good memories, helped me to keep focused on the only thing that mattered from here on out—the future.  One that I had complete control over.

On that subject, darling, since it’s probably on your mind, the Yes feeling told me that I had to reach out to Alan one more time, if not to woo him back, than to apologize for how things ended.

              I played the silly, needy woman role just as a sign of respect to him.  I asked him to dinner.  I bought everything.  I apologized to his face and told him I really like him.  The opposite of what I was probably supposed to do. 

              But to my surprise, for once, the opposite kind of worked.

He was a little defensive, but intrigued at the same time, especially about my newfound mission in life—to let my instincts guide me. 

“And why should I trust you?” he asked, a good question, all things considered.

“Because I don’t lie,” I said, straight shooting into his lovely eyes.  “It took everything I had, to confess to you what I did.  Because I didn’t want to live a lie, not for a second.  Total honesty is the only way any relationship is going to work.  I’m not going to promise I’ll be faithful forever.  At least, not for now.  But I promise, day by day, I will always tell you the truth.  And I won’t take for granted what we have.  Because I know, someone like you doesn’t come around every day.  You are someone worth fighting for…Mister Firefighter.”

He said nothing else, but reached out and kissed.  So uninhibitedly, so fearless, like he combined the best qualities of all my casual flings but brought new layers of emotional complexity.  Eroticism with him wasn’t just a terrorizing, queasy-in-the-stomach feeling—it was also something calm, something relaxed and trusting.

It didn’t take long before our trust was restored.  And yes, we made love like demons.  Although Alan made it a point to recreate all my other fetishes, which I much appreciated, he also did it the old fashioned way.  He took me to his gloriously suburban house and fucked me in the sheets, just like I was his girlfriend.

I wore something sexy for him; not too elegant, since I know he just loved to rip my clothes to shreds and put out my fire.  I wore a gray tank top with a black shirt, both extra tight, giving him those curves he just loves to caress.

I told him I wanted him to rip my shirt off, to tear it and expose my braless chest.  I told him to attack me, to suck my nipples in hungry lust.  To kiss every last inch of my body, from my ticklish feet, to my belly button, to the very top of my forehead.  I wanted my whole body to feel him, to feel his greatness. 

I helped him take off his jeans just yearning to see his hard cock again, that perfectly shaped work of art, that marble sculpture I longed to feel.  I gave him a long and thorough blowjob, taking my time, torture-teasing his cock, and sucking his head like a vacuum, making it extra wet and sloppy.  I wanted to taste him in my mouth and all over my tongue and lips, even to my chin and cheeks. 

He told me to ride him but I refused.  I wanted to hear him beg.  I sucked him again, deepthroating him and making him chant my name in worship.  His cock was so hard he told me it hurt—he begged me to ride him.  But I wasn’t done giving him his fantasy.  I pulled off his shirt and begin licking his muscles, tasting his nipples, his hard abs and his little trails of hairs at the top of his chest.

I took off my dress and let him kiss my panties, all over my mound down to my clit and just barely tasting the wetness of my lips.  He pulled my panties down with his teeth, never once taking his eyes off mine.  When I decided it was time to ride him I took my time, lowering myself onto him and letting him feel my wetness inch by inch as he went in deeper.  Just when he reached as far as he could go, then I started straddling him—slowly at first but then picking up a momentum.  Just as he was about to come, I changed positions, letting his penis become engorged with blood, edging him to very last tip, before I took back control of his pleasure. 

              He lay me on the bed and then entered me standing up.  I spread my legs as far wide as they could stretch, letting him watch as his body became one with mine.  His shaft was so long and thick it seemed to cause ripples of pleasure inside of me as it traveled. 

              The more we fucked the more slippery our bodies became.  He sweated on me and I licked him all over; his pre-cum meshed with my natural lube.  The longer he thrusted into me, staying hard as a dildo, the more I felt my insides starting to pulsate.  I even felt my vagina contract—in and out, in and out, which only hugged his dick tighter, forcing him to thrust even harder and faster. 

              Our moans were loud and we screamed over each other, letting go of all our frustrations and making love like savages.  I approached orgasm slowly, feeling burning in my loins that started turning into a gradual spasm.  At first it felt like I was pushing along with him, raising my pelvis to interact with his thrusting movements.  But then, my spasming became involuntary and I began losing control over everything—my breathing, my overflowing juices and my voice which was now chanting in mad fervor.  I felt his hardness become rigid and start to break.  He gripped me by the hair, making me take it deep and fucked me so hard we lost the position, falling onto the bed full force.  But that didn’t stop us from finishing what we started.  I writhed helplessly underneath him wanting me to restrain me with all his might—which he did my grabbing my arms and pinning them down.  He pounded me with his whole might, finally breaking his erection and spurting inside me at least ten times—gloriously unleashing that fountain of frustration. 

We both came at the same time and clutched onto each other’s bodies, wanting this moment to last forever.  I managed to scream Yes Yes Yes! in rapid succession, finally getting the true sense of my joy. 

We finally let go our grip but he stayed inside me, slowly becoming flaccid, neither of us wanting to feel disconnected from the intense grip. 

He eventually pulled out of me and collapsed to the side, still keeping his hands on my slippery breasts as our trembling subsided. 

“Am I worth all the trouble?” I had to ask, not really sure anymore.

“You ask me now?  After you’ve blown my mind and body out of the water?”

We both laughed but he came closer to my face, taking my cheek in his hand.  “You are worth it.  You always had the brains and body, I knew it the moment I saw you.  But now you found your heart.  And that’s what drives me wild.”

**

October

Darling, I am nearing the end of my series of letters, and as always, am curious to know whatever became of YOU.  I do hope you will update me soon, regarding your situation…and perhaps what you last remember of our time together in Paris.  In any event, I just wanted to update you and let you know that I did in fact see Brody again, even after all the mess he left behind.  He came to me, once again, knocking on my door and feeling that fleeting moment of attraction that only comes along every once in a while, in between long periods of repulsion to me.

“So you want me because I’m happy and with someone else?  Is that all that really turns you on?  Robbing from the rich, giving to the poor?  In this case…yourself?”

“Me poor?  That’ll be the day,” laughed Brody, who was already making himself comfortable inside my apartment.

“You are poor, Brody,” I said sourly.  “You may have a lot of things…but you’re poor when it comes to people.  When it comes to happiness.  I mean, what do you do all day long?  Do you care about any of these ‘escorts’ that are keeping you company?  Do you even feel anything anymore, when everything is given to you just as ordered?”

I pitied him, figuring I myself could have taken the same road to hell, if only I had let myself care just a little bit less.

“There’s no challenge left for you.  There’s no genuine emotion in anything you do.  It’s all games.  It’s all power struggles with you always on top.  Maybe you ought to try the bottom sometimes.  So to speak,” I said with a giggle, thinking of poor Dwayne who got more bottom than he anticipated.

“But you can’t deny that when I actually do want you that it’s a temptation hard to resist.”

He began slithering closer to me, putting his hands on my waist and inching up to my neck.

I laughed in his face, not even feeling the need to slap him away.  “You know, I’m just not feeling it.  I mean even if I wanted to cheat on Alan, who totally doesn’t deserve it by the way…I just don’t think I can feel any attraction to you.  Not anymore.”

“Oh really?  Somehow I doubt that.  Considering that I could, you know, buy like 12 Alans at any time.  Besides, I’m the only one who really challenges you, aren’t I?”

He boldly put his finger on my lips, pulling them apart and staring at me with those hypnotic eyes.

“You know what…you’re right,” I said.  “But I think I’m outgrowing all this slave escort business.  Maybe it’s time you lost control.  Maybe it’s time you did what I tell you to do.”