Entry Three

I didn’t know how he’d handle the whole “free use” thing in front of other people, but he’s never been one to leave me wondering for long. I got my answer this past Saturday night.

I hadn’t seen him in a while; it was a busy time of year for him, and I had a lot going on, too. We messaged here and there, sent risqué selfies designed to make the other one drool, or silly memes that reminded us of each other. Then I told him about a party I was throwing and casually invited him to drop by. We were celebrating a mutual friend’s promotion, and I figured with 15 or so people over, he might enjoy the break and opportunity to relax.

He said he’d try and would keep me posted, but Saturday came and went without a word. I assumed he’d gotten caught up with work, and sent him a cleavage-heavy photo with just a quick “xo,” then finished getting ready for my friends to come over.

It was approaching 11 or so, the party in full-swing, and I wasn’t even thinking about him. I had a couple glasses of wine - just enough to feel a little more social than usual - and was enjoying catching up with my friends. The dim lights in the room were fuzzied by a haze of smoke from a few joints being passed around, and the bass from the stereo made a soothing sound behind the chatter of the company. I had just walked into the kitchen to refill my glass when I heard a familiar voice that turned my head like a magnet.

I looked over and there he was, leaning against a door frame with a glass in his hand, effortlessly folded into conversation.

My stomach flipped.

His piercing eyes caught mine and I felt myself beaming uncontrollably before I could stop myself. He grinned and quickly winked at me; I bit my lip in an attempt to stifle my blushing, and turned back to my glass.

Maybe I should switch to water.

In that moment, tipsy and flushed, I was SURE I had just given us away. I liked the secrecy of our arrangement, and wasn’t eager to share it with anyone else.

I grabbed a bottle of water, quietly pulled myself together, and headed back out to the living room. I could hear him laughing and talking as I left the kitchen, and it struck me how his presence at the party excited and comforted me, somehow both at once.

The party kept moving. I sank back into it, nerves loosening. But every time our eyes met across the room or I heard that unmistakable rise in his voice, my heart fluttered. At one point, as people packed into the kitchen, he slipped behind me, his hands at my hips to ease past me. It was a nothing gesture, but God, all I could think about was how he’d had me bent over that same island earlier this month, moaning, begging, dripping for him.

It was close to 1 a.m., and instead of slowing down, the energy had only built. Someone had hijacked the music and queued up hits from 20 years ago; the perfect recipe for a house full of nostalgic thirty-somethings dancing and singing with abandon.

The energy was warm and buzzing, and I remembered that I had a roll of film I wanted to finish, so I stepped away from the group in the living room, down the dark hall towards my bedroom to retrieve it. I barely had the doorknob turned before I felt him at my back - his body pressed against mine, hands sliding to my waist, pushing me through the door.

I turned as we entered, just in time to see him lock it behind us and yank his t-shirt over his head. He tossed it aside, his eyes meeting mine with a heat I’d never seen before; wild and unhinged, like a sort of lustful madness he couldn’t contain. Being looked at like that was exhilarating and a little frightening at the same time.

“All fucking night,” he growled at me as he pushed me onto the bed. “You knew what you were doing.”

I was wearing a little green mini dress, easy access without meaning for it to be. He had it up around my hips in seconds, exposing a lacy black thong he all but tore aside before kneeling and draping my thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders. He looped his finger through my panties, pulling them to the side, and placing his hungry, unrelenting mouth instantly on my pussy. I moaned and cupped a hand over my own mouth, mindful of the party still pulsing down the hallway.

He lapped at me eagerly, hungrily; groaning like he had been aching to have his hands on me. He slipped my panties off over my legs quickly, then pressed on my inner thighs with his fingertips, opening me up to him with need and reverence in his touch. His thumb circled and pushed while he tasted me, pressing in and out of me, working me like only he knew how to. It was familiar, perfect. Usually, he took his time and savored me, but there was an urgency in his movements tonight, and my body was responding to him involuntarily.

“That’s good, kitten,” he whispered into me during breaks with his tongue. “You know what I want from you. Be a good girl now.”

I let out another soft moan, thankfully masked by an explosion of laughter somewhere down the hall. My world had narrowed down to this room, to his hands, his mouth, the way he knew me. He had me in the palm of his hand so quickly, I had almost completely forgotten I had company.

His finger curled up, hitting just the right spot, and my back arched - welcoming the familiar sensation of spilling over the edge for him. My eyes rolled back, my hands tangled in his hair, and my legs started to tremble. He pushed on, unrelenting, and moaned into me as he licked up every last drop.

I was still floating when he stood and shoved his thick cock into my wet, sensitive pussy. My body seized up around him, clenching like it was begging him to stay inside me.

“Please,” I begged, desperate and instinctive. The words spilled out of my my lips before I knew I was saying it.

His hand covered my mouth and I licked his palm through muffled cries. His gaze stayed focused on mine, thrusting hard and fast, hips pounding, breath ragged. The rhythym and force of his body shook me, exposing my tits, leaving my dress around my waist like a belt.

“Fuck, I needed you,” he groaned, almost as a confession, as he slid his hand across my nipple. My body bounced underneath him. I reached up and clutched at his shoulders, dragging my nails down his back, needing him just as much and pulling him closer into me.

“Give me one more,” he whispered, mouth close to my ear. “Come on, you can give me just one more, be a good girl for me…”

Those were the magic words.

My body obeyed his command before my brain could react, a stifled “oh fuck” from my lips, still behind his palm, as I shattered for him again. His cock pushed even deeper inside me as he cursed and groaned, both of us intensely coming at once. I could feel the bed below my body soaking, our sweat and body heat feeding off one another.

We lingered for a moment, content and worn; then I remembered the party. The people. The time.

He kissed me, then offered me his hand to stand up and straighten my dress. I watched him get dressed, enamored at how his body looked so strong and capable, even covered by his clothes. He glanced back at me and smiled, then reached down to grab my panties off the floor before tucking them into his pocket. “Your hair is a bit of a mess, I’m sorry,” he chuckled at me. He brushed his strong fingers through the soft, brunette strands on my head, and I reached up to meet his hand with mine.

“It’s okay, I’ll fix it,” I smiled and blushed.

That glint in his eyes had softened; satisfied, for now. I stood, tugged my dress down. “You can go ahead and slip out,” I said. “I’ll be behind shortly.”

He reached for the doorknob, paused.

“I can’t help it with you, you know,” he said, flashing that devil’s grin. “You know what you do to me.”

I don’t know if I’m more embarrassed by how easily he took me…

Or by how much I wanted him to.