Why is it that we attempt to hang onto something that we know we’d be better off without? Why are we scared of losing something that we don’t even really have? I’ve never quite figured it out. Some people will even go so far as to say, “I’d rather have someone who is around sometimes than no one at all.” Like, they don’t care to be the side dish? Hello, coleslaw! 

And... I would be the coleslaw in most of my relationships...

Because the truth of the matter is, to have someone only sometimes is often harder than not having them at all. In those instances that you aren’t together, when you realize everything that you are missing, and the vapid emptiness hits you, the blackness encircles you. Like on those rainy afternoons when you aren’t curled collectively like a pair of parentheses on the couch, binge watching Netflix, allowing the day to melt away without the productive pressure of sunshine. Unable to touch or to adequately express all the emotions that were sorely impossible to describe using something as limiting as words; it makes the void even more black. Yet, even despite this inane loneliness and all of my self-destructive tendencies, some of the best moments in my life have come from the ‘sometimes’ I can’t ever tell anyone about. 

Still recovering from the end of a six-year relationship with a married man, I decided the best cure was a summer spent at the beach instead of dealing with the depths of my mind. I tried to fill that void in my life with a string of bland, drunken, mindless one night stands. Because in my world, in my mind, voids must be filled. And how do I fill them? I fuck the pain away. Burying that pain into someone so brutally insignificant that they don’t even make a real dent in my memory. 

But all that changed with Jesse Motherfucking Mathis and his smooth-as-Tennessee-Whiskey moves. 

My plan was to “hit it and quit it,” as they say, when I spotted his biceps from across the room at the little beach dive bar we were both drinking at. Yeah well, you know what they say: everyone has a plan until they get punched in the throat. And Jesse Mathis was my punch in the throat. 

It’s not like I shouted out, “Hey there, you look like a bad decision waiting to happen. Come on over here and sit with me for a bit.” Or maybe I kinda did. Only sitting wasn’t exactly what I had in mind as I watched the way he tousled his dirty blonde hair with one hand and how the dimples on his tanned cheeks ripple every time he smiled. It didn’t hurt that his well-fitting jeans hugged his ass like they were made just for him, making my freshly waxed pussy throb to the core. Even with his girlfriend at his side, looking bored and uninterested as she flipped through her phone, I still couldn’t look away from him. 

Sweet Jesus, I was in trouble.

“A beer from Mr. Blonde God over there,” the waitress said as she slid the amber bottle across the high top where I was sitting. My carefully deconstructed (and equally as carefully reconstructed) The Cure shirt hung off one shoulder to show off my tan lines, while my bronze legs lazily swung from the bar stool. He eyed me hungrily as I put the beer to my lips and sucked the cool liquid down. Biting my thick bottom lip, I lifted the bottle and gave him a wink. As I imagined myself sprawled out on his bed, pussy dripping wet, nipples erect, I licked my lips slowly, sending him the signal that I was down to fuck. When he tossed his phone number at me on his way to the men’s room, I knew it would all be downhill from there. 

The flirty, late night text messages started immediately and escalated to facetiming, sexting and other such virtual debauchery for weeks. The anticipation of fucking him was a slow build to a climax that culminated in a well-orchestrated night together, holed up in my hotel room when his girlfriend was out of town.

I was nervous about meeting a stranger in a hotel room but I also felt like I’d known him for years through the constant communication we’d been having. To say I was looking forward to this night of sinful indulgence would be an understatement. I knew the girlfriend wasn’t going anywhere and that this would be a one-time thing at best, so my eyes were wide open going in. I was accepting it for what it was: fucking mind-blowing sex. 

Arriving right on time, I opened the door and was met by those damn gorgeous dimples. “Well, hello, stranger. You coming in?” I asked, holding the door half open.

In two seconds flat, he dropped his small overnight bag and pinned me up against the now closed door. His fucking kisses melted me to my core. They were ‘press you up against the wall, I want to crawl inside of your skin and devour your soul’ kisses. His touch was like warm honey, his breath malty with beer. His body was hard and defined, and I scratched lines down his back, challenging him to give up all his secrets. 

As I pressed a kiss to his temple, I grazed my fingertips along the outline of his hard cock straining against the material of his jeans. He sucked in his breath as I got down on my knees and teasingly alternated between licking and gently biting at his shaft through the material. Not wanting to taunt him for too long, I slowly undid his zipper as he undid the button. Grasping his hard cock with one hand, I guided it to my tongue and ran my soft, heavy tongue over the tip while gently tugging on his shaft. I swirled my thumb around the head, now wet with spit. 

Popping him in and out of my mouth like a lollipop, he breathed in sharply. His hands found my nipples that were already hard under the sheer white tank top I was wearing without a bra. My denim cut-off shorts exposed just the barest edge of my tanned ass and slowly rode up into my pussy crease that was becoming wetter the more we kissed, my black lace thong teasing my ass hole. My eyes closed, I arched against the wall, and my chest pushed forward. I didn’t even realize that we weren’t kissing anymore, my lips and tongue still reaching. He growled a low, deep moan as his almost white-blue eyes focused on my breasts that were popping out of the tank top. His kisses were like crushed velvet covering my nipples and his tongue gently flicked against each one playfully. 

“Fuck me,” I panted. But he just grinned and cupped one breast in each hand, pinching my nipples. I whimpered as the rush of pain was followed by a wave of pleasure. I audibly gasped as he popped the button and zipper of my shorts, feeling the rough material rubbing up against my freshly waxed pussy. Pushing me away from the wall and onto the bed, we became a tangled web of limbs, lips, throats, thirst. Molten lava with fingers clutching at what couldn’t be caught. My heart and clit both throbbed to the same rhythm.

Knowing he was close to coming, I held his cock tight with one hand and forced it up and down through the slick tunnel of my fingers, licking my tongue around the head, down the shaft and forcing it further into my mouth. As I felt his cock hit the back of my throat, my eyes began to water. I wanted him to fill me up in every wet, slippery orifice. Foaming saliva built at the corners of my mouth, the salty mixture of his pre-cum and our hot make out session seeping over my tongue, and I was in heaven. I rubbed my pulsing clit in small circles. Intense colors swirled behind my eyes as I stood up from the bed to mount him. All I could think of was his pulsing hard cock inside of me.

Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me back down onto the bed beside him. As he fumbled for a condom, my breath caught in my chest and my fingers slowly ventured down, under the black sheer fabric of my lace panties. I closed my eyes and two fingers caressed the lips of my slit as he clumsily unwrapped the condom. My hips lifted involuntarily.  My fingertips teased and taunted circles around my clit while a ragged breath escaped my lips. My skin felt like hot silk under my hand as I fondled and rubbed, fingers slipping slowly inside. The weight of my desire became an electric current running through my body. Breath held and limbs quivering, I opened my eyes and a gentle moan escaped. We held eye contact. I had never felt so sexy. With a mischievous, half grin, I continued to stroke myself beneath my panties.

“Get those panties off.” His voice was low but the tone firm.

I was being commanded, not asked. A wicked thrill ran through me, and I trembled. His eyes followed my movements as I inched the black lace thong slowly down my thighs. He moved closer and closed his eyes as he ran one hand up my leg, stopping just inside my thigh. I moaned at the rough trace of his weathered hand against my soft skin. He grabbed the sides of my panties and forced them down the rest of the way as I untangled my feet from them and watched him lift the lace to his nose.

“Fuck yes,” he said, almost under his breath.

I pressed my thighs together tightly as my clit throbbed. I wanted him to fuck me into next week.

“Keep going.” He stroked his cock, devouring the sight of my legs spread against the sheets. “Spread them wider,” he ordered.

My pulse hammered in my ears as I opened my legs, spreading my thighs further apart. I rubbed myself methodically, allowing my fingers to explore, slowly gliding in and out, before tracing upward again, coated in the evidence of how much I needed him inside me. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clit, onto my smooth pussy lips.

“I love bald pussy,” he breathed appreciatively as he watched me rub my clit in slow circles.

Being like this for him, legs open, pussy exposed and gleaming wet while he stood there, cock in hand, turned the naughty factor up to 110 and then some. He ran his hand over my calves, between my thighs and wound himself between my legs. He shoved his fingers in. Then, suddenly, his cock slid deep inside, and I gasped, riding the waves of pleasure with each thrust. 

Not wanting to cum yet, I had him lie on his back and I straddled him. I took him inside me slowly and deeply, moving in small circular motions at first and then grinding my wet pussy onto him as hard as I could. Moving faster and faster, my tits bounced with the rhythm I kept astride him, his hands on my hips. The muscles of his arms and torso flexed along with the motion, his pale skin shimmering with sweat. Grabbing my ass with his hands, he spread my cheeks wide and went even deeper inside. A moment later, he was coming inside me, exploding.

“I’m not done yet,” he growled as he moved down between my legs, kissing my inner thighs, his lips soft and hot. His tongue parted me, slickening my juicy pussy with his saliva. His tongue painted insistent swirls on my clitoris until I was gripping the sheets and moving my body up to meet him.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” he murmured, his fingers now joining his mouth, slowly gliding in and out, agonizing me. With the rigid tip of his tongue, he rubbed my clit over and over and over until I was panting for breath. Then he stopped. 

His mouth hovered near my pussy, and he pulled back. My head pounded with blood, and I shifted restlessly. I wanted to come. I needed to come. Desperately.  

He blew warm breath across my clit and began sucking and licking more urgently than before. Before I could register this new tactic, his mouth was back on me, his tongue back at me. Working me. Then I felt that rush, fast and hot, and the mounting energy as his urgent tongue fluttered and flicked, while his fingers darted in and out. All I could do was shut my eyes and arch back, shuddering, dying as I exploded with a new kind of pleasure. Moaning into the ceiling, his tongue lapped relentlessly at me. I pulled a pillow over my mouth to muffle my cries.

His lips, wet with my pussy juice, greedily found my mouth and I relished in the scent, the taste, the feel of him. The room smelled of our sex, musky and sensual. My mouth found his cock again and I lapped and sucked with abandon. Licking his balls, gently sucking each one. Then again, taking him fully into my mouth and down the back of my throat hole. His hips spasmed forward as he asked me to stop. When I refused, he grabbed my hair just hard enough to get my attention and send a fresh rush of wetness to my pussy.

“Can I fuck you in the ass, baby?” he asked

Without answering, I moved up to where he wanted me, his spit-slick cock standing straight up. He held it for me and I straddled him, eager to feel him everywhere. I sank down on him slowly and gasped as his member filled my tight hole until I was able to ride him up and down. Rubbing my wet, swollen, sensitive clit with one hand and raking my nails down his chest with the other, it was obvious he enjoyed the view as my tits bounced again in rhythm as I moved. I felt another hot rush as the waves of pleasure ran through my body for what seemed like the hundredth time and his orgasm met my own.

“That was the hottest fucking thing,” he laughed as I collapsed beside him, exhausted and stupidly happy.