by Liz Doherty
When they first met, at a dark bar a couple blocks from her place, she had been unsure about him. They had connected online when he answered her straightforward craigslist post. She had put on her rainy night uniform of jeans, sweater, boots, and leather coat and made her way two blocks to the dark bar they had agreed on. She headed straight for a booth deep in the room, where she slid in facing the door and checked out the room.
They hadn’t exchanged pictures, and she was surprised when a young guy in an Irish cap got up from another table and approached her. He had said he was 35, but this beautiful man looked much younger than that. He had broad shoulders, long legs, and gorgeous hazel eyes she could see even in the dimness of the bar. She wondered if, at 46, she would appeal to this man.
“Liz?” he asked.
“Hi. You’re lots younger than I expected. Not sure this is what I want,” she said.
“Wait, don’t send me away yet, I really am 35, I just look younger. Wanna see my driver’s license?” His voice was deep and intensely quiet.
“What’s your name?” she asked. In their brief email exchange they hadn’t gotten that far. She had posted for sex, not a date, and names hadn’t come up. She had asked if he was well-hung and cut and he had assured her he was. Just the way she liked it.
“I’m Sean.”
She paused, studying him, then leaned in close to sniff him. He didn’t back away. She wanted to check the pheromones, so important to her. She breathed in deeply and was immediately attracted. She took several more deep breaths, savoring his sweet, musky scent, with no trace of chemical fragrance. She smelled only his animal.
“OK, let’s do this.” she agreed with a smile.
They had gone back to her place, where they had sucked and fucked for at least two hours. She fell asleep, and when she woke in the morning, he was gone but his cap was still there on the coffee table. She was thrilled when he emailed her back a week later.
“Need release. When are you free?” was all he wrote. A man of few words.
“Thursday afternoon?” she asked. “I have your hat.”
When he came to her place a second time, they sat on the couch, sharing a joint and a beer. That first time, they had gone straight for the bedroom. Today they chatted here on the sofa, where he didn’t share much about himself, nor did she. This wasn’t going to be a personal connection, just a sexual one.
She had played Scrabble with a friend the night before, and the board was still out on the table.
“You play Scrabble,” he said. It wasn’t a question but a statement.
“I do. Do you want to play?”
He agreed, surprising her. She had assumed that they would merely have sex and then he would leave, as he had the first time. They sat side by side on the couch, turning their letter racks away from one another.
Halfway through the game, she played the seven-letter word “hopeful,” pulling her far ahead. But she could stand it no longer. Before taking her next letters from the bag, she leaned toward him, raising the back of his shirt, and taking in his heady scent—like warm cookies and musk and man. He continued to stare at his letters—it was his turn, after all—but as her breath continued to move across his lower back, he leaned forward, raising his shirt even higher.
“Mmhmm,” he murmured and turned to her. She removed his T-shirt in one smooth motion, revealing his broad shoulders, slim but strong chest, and taut abs.
They didn’t kiss. They both knew what they wanted, and they weren’t going to fiddle around with foreplay. She lifted her shirt and he roughly pushed up her bra, grabbing both of her nipples, pinching slightly, and giving just the slightest twist. She winced and squirmed with pleasure. Rising briefly from the couch, she took off the bra and shimmied out of her jeans and underwear. She knelt before him, dropped her head into his lap, and felt his hardness against her cheek and lips through the fabric. He wore no belt, and she knew now that he wore no underwear. Her pleasure was just a zipper away.
He held her head, insistently guiding her face into the denim-covered hardness. When he reached and unbuttoned his top button, she pushed his hand away and coaxed his zipper into a low, teasing descent. Heat emanated from his jeans as she opened them, and she drew in his scent again, feeling her genitals swell. She reached in and gently took out his now fiercely erect cock, careful not to scratch it with the zipper. He raised his hips and lowered his jeans to his ankles.
Before him on her knees, she opened wide and let her mouth descend all eight inches until she felt his cock graze the back of her throat, but not letting her lips and mouth touch. She paused there for a moment, slowly inhaling him once again, breathing her own hot breath onto his shaft, then closed her mouth and throat around him all at once, sucking gently. He gasped and pressed her head. She held the position until her breath ran out and she began to gag, slowly slid up his length, spitting on him so he’d be wet and sloppy, then slid him slowly in again, to the bottom, until her mouth and throat were completely full of him. She moved slowly up and down, with his hands on the back of her head, pressing with increasing urgency. She gagged slightly with each stroke, as he forced her to the place she loved.
After five or so minutes of this deep sliding, he withdrew himself suddenly and pushed the coffee table aside. The curtains were open, where anyone could watch, and that knowledge excited her even more. She felt her nipples harden in the cool of the room as he pushed her to her knees on the carpeted floor. He removed his jeans and took a dildo from the toy basket she kept in the living room for just such play. He propped it against his body, just above his cock, dribbled on some cool lube, then slowly inserted both into her, his cock into her pussy and the toy into her ass. The fullness sent shivers up the back of her neck. He fucked her there, slowly and deeply, forcing her head into the floor and raising her hips to meet him. Then he grabbed her by her neck, gently choking her, and fucked her harder and faster in both her holes. His slim leg was next to her head and she took his ankle in her hand. She lost track of time. The fullness was intoxicating.
“Squirt on that cock,” he commanded.
At the sound of his voice, she felt the release of juice explode from her body, soaking them both and encouraging him to fuck her faster. Finally, with a low growl, he came deep inside her, leaving her gasping and spent there, face down on the carpet in a damp puddle.
“Next time I come in your throat,” he said, as she slowly collected herself and began to rise. He went to the bathroom to wipe himself off and she went for a robe in the bedroom. When she returned, he was putting his clothes back on. She slipped into the robe, relishing the smell of their sex on her body and smiling, going to the window and waving to anyone who may have been watching them through the open blinds.
“Shall we finish this?” she asked, gesturing at the Scrabble board.
“Yes, let’s,” he agreed, reaching for the beer he had abandoned there.
They played out the game, and she won 308 to 255.
“I’ll beat you next time,” he said, rising from the couch. He put on the cap and headed out into the warmth of the September afternoon. She was left smiling, glad to know that he could be coming back.
