(Continued from Chasing Memories in a Parking Lot)
She stopped the video precipitately and relaxed back into her satin bed pillow, resting her eyes and inhaling the moment. Basking in the shift of equilibrium, she now had that elusive upper hand… again. He really didn’t want you to walk away begun as a silent chant in her mind, she brushed it away quickly as she realized she had not watched the video in its entirety yet. This man has proven time and again that he is no simple creature.
He didn’t want you to walk away.
Chills spread down her décolletage meeting the worn path her shivers always take. She pulled her hands under the duvet to smooth the sensitive prickles of her skin away, only to chase them to her toes and back up the right edge of her smooth curvy body. She tucked her cold hands between her legs. As a little girl it was always in this position that she found comfort in cold and confusion; both hands trapped in her fleshy thighs, warmed, then released. Only now as a young woman does she truly understand that feeling of comfort can best be found when her hands travel a few inches up toward her heart, and nestle between her freshly shaven pussy lips.
She pressed play again and narrowed her focused on the tiny screen of her phone. The shaky video focused on the screen of a laptop, his laptop; a video was playing. It was her. Her fingers were doing the extremely familiar dance of self-pleasure. She observed how her faced twisted from wanton pain of need to pleasure of release over and over as her fingers worked in and out. Her moans were faint as she focused, but it was the wet sound of her pussy as she worked her orgasms that stole the show.
The video must have been one of the first she sent to him, her style and need for urgent and mildly electric orgasms has evolved since it was taken. In the few short months of their contact he had taught her that edging and waiting for the tsunami sized release to wash over her was much more favorable than riding the short waves multiple times. Granted, there was times all she needed was a quick rush, her Hitachi was good for that. But to feel the fulfilled feeling she craves, it takes patience and work and a consciousness rivaled by computing complicated mathematical equations. But she was still new to this, perhaps some day it will be like second nature.
After the third orgasm she exuded such a flow of her sweet ejaculate that it visibly splashed down her smooth pale thighs. Visibly shaken, her video concluded and his monitor went dark. The camera panned away from the monitor to show his abdomen, the way his rigid pole jutted away from his Apollo’s belt while his right hand stroked it even harder left a sweet imprint in her memory. His voice boomed in the foreground just as she pulled the phone closer for a better look.
“I want to take you for a ride tonight. Text me when you are ready.”
She shivered as the video stopped at that sentence.
It was time for her to put thought into what she wanted to gain from this. She never wanted to face the question of whether he was good for her or not. It was… fun. She learned so much about herself, and her sexual needs, when she was with him. But she could never shake the underlying theme of the relationship, that she did not deserve to be more than a fuck toy he would play with only when he wished.
One hand returned to the safe haven of her fleshy thighs while she held her phone and repeatedly played the video with the other hand. She reveled in the beauty of her twisting face and the rhythmic movements of her voluptuous body when she made her self cum. Then his body, his words, his need to see her caused a growing need inside her she could no longer deny. Her thoughts were taken over as the dizzying haze of lust invaded her mind space. She put the phone down and reached for her vibrator and a dildo. She needed to make quick work of the first orgasm to regain composure and ability to think her next move through. This was no time to play around, clarity was in play.
She pulled the duvet back and traced her fingers down her breasts. Her nipples stood tall and tented her t-shirt like two conquered mountain peaks. She traced her fingers lower to reach her labia, delighted that her lips were salivating already. She wanted to see just how wet she was, so she pulled her lips apart and revealed her slick interior. Her wetness reflected the light of the street lamp outside her window. She smiled and licked her lips.
As soon as she felt the rough buzz of the Hitachi pressed on her swollen clit, her mind did cartwheels. She played with varying degrees of pressure until she found the drilling feeling she needed, yes, tonight was a hard-press night. As she climbed the peak, the thumping of her clit grew to an ache in her cunt. It was time to get stretched. She switched to low and let off the pressure a bit as she slid the big dildo in with ease. She held it there a moment and moved back to high vibration. After an involuntary buck of her hips, she started the slow diving motion of the cock inside her, the rubbing the synthetic head past her g-spot, roughing it up like it needed. The orgasm was coming in fast, she doubted a moment whether she should let it come or whether she should push it away. But before the decision was made she tightened on the dick in her and sprayed the rubber head of the wand, riding the blissful rush.
Tinged with shame that it was that easy to cum, she laid back and closed her eyes again. Mental clarity wasn’t present yet, but it was only a few deep breaths away. She brushed away the nagging need to find out if it would be that easy to cum again. It always is, but now was not the time to play.
She focused in an effort to recall the turn of events that evening. She had been the one that decided to leave him, granted, it was after he had made the choice that he was going to give up talking to her for lent. She even begged him to give something else up. She knew how strongly set in his ways he was and that he was going to do as he pleased. But she felt it was fair to ask him to remember to come back to her at the end of the forty days. His response set off a torrent of emotion in her, landing at the realization that she shouldn’t have to prove her worth to him. She needed to show him that she didn’t need him…. Her heart picked up pace, and she felt a surge in her peritoneum. As if by chance it could heal it, she clutched her phone to her chest. The warm screen only served to cloud her thoughts about the outcome she deserves.
She had revealed layers of her self to him that no one else knew. In her almost 30 years, he was first to bring out the deviant in her. For a time this anomalous behavior felt unnatural to her but the dissimilation turned to reality and within the first days of their relationship she discovered just how much she enjoyed being a part of his dark world, even if only for a few hours at a time on a sporadic basis. It no longer felt unnatural to crave sexual satisfaction through any means necessary. It was in giving over that trust to him that she felt true satisfaction, she felt lifted and whole. It was the promise of turning back into the good girl at night’s end, that drove her to the dark edges of his wooded mind over and over.
But in the end, her reality was that she was a good girl, and she had a lot of life to look forward to when she woke up every morning. Stranger’s glances turning to smiles turning to hello, turning to endless possibilities. She was alone right now but this was not forever and she always had the bad girl inside waiting for the right person to help bring her out.
She looked out the window to see the rain had started again. A sigh escaped her as she made an effort to decide whether to keep playing this seductive game of chase or to trust her instincts in letting him go. It was unnecessary to ponder on what was best for him, as he had always had that on the forefront of his mind. However, it was always in her nature to include thoughts of how his feelings would be affected in her decisions.
“Text me when you pull up” tapped rapidly on her phone concluded her decision-making process for the night. It was sent before she could change her mind, like so many texts before it. Now it was just the wait pressing on her thoughts.
He parked in the free spot under the street light. A text came through to her phone, signifying he had pulled up. She responded quickly and sent with a smile. She left the warm encasement of her bed and rushed over to the window, pushing the old panes out to open up to the elements. She leaned out and peered down at his car. As he read her text message that said, “look up at my window” he stepped out of the car into the rain. She pulled the t-shirt up over her head and threw it down at him. It landed in a damp clump on the hood of his Chevy, a crumpled mass and no longer a reminder of a sweet shared moment. Her heavy breasts dangled under her in the cool night rain as he looked up at her.
“I won’t forget you either.”
After she bellowed the words, she closed the window and ran back to her bed. She tucked herself under the warm covers, pulling them up to her satisfied face. She drifted off in time, landing in her own dark dreamy place.