Ms. Pooty Tang

What I'm going to do...

2005-10-03T22:15:00.000-05:00

I'm so excited to see him, mostly because I really think he understands how much I love him, that I would do anything for him, he's my best friend. We're going to hug tight and he will kiss me with those soft lips that I love. We'll have some small talk, maybe, if he can wait, I did let him in on my secret. Some of the guys look at me when I come in. He says I have to look hot, to show off or for his benefit, I'm not sure. But I'm sure these guys are lonely, too, and they don't have a hot best friend willing to do the things that I can do. I'm sneaking into the bathroom, with him following behind. I'll push him against the wall, wrap my leg around him and slide his hand into my skirt, feeling my g-string with the choppers on them, that I had bought just for him so long ago. Licking his mouth, feeling him all over, I'll slink down, unzipping his pants, pulling them down, with the shorts he always has to wear under them down because he always buys his pants too big.

His head will fall back against the wall and he will grab my hair tightly, which I will straighten because he loves it that way. First I lick the tip a little, teasing...before I put him completely into my mouth. Then, just the way he likes it, wet, rubbing my tongue completely up and down with my thumb following, my hand twisting. Both hands are in my hair now, pulling and pushing himself inside my mouth. He's trying so hard not to make a sound, but he can't help it, not the way I do it. It's not taking him long, because he's been looking forward to it for two days, and of course, I'm making him read this first. I rub my tongue harder, getting it wetter and rubbing...and he explodes into my mouth. He'll laugh the little laugh that I love, that means I did a good job. Just wait till we're really alone...

It Happened

2005-08-05T03:04:00.000-05:00

He called.

I jumped.

Not because I wanted to be with him, particularly, but I really needed it. I was sitting around listening to Fifty Cent, bored as hell, and feeling sorry for myself. He said he needed to borrow some eggs to make a cake. Right. Had to take a shower. Sitting around in the 90 degree heat, and he never liked when I wore my hair up anyway. Wore my denim mini with my, "I'm Available" black tee. Thought he would get a kick out of that. I don't normally wear shimmer eyeshadow unless I'm going to a club, but hell, show him what he's missing. Even did a little extra "grooming", more for me than for him :)

He glanced at me when he opened the door, then couldn't seem to look me in the face. I knew it was because I looked hot as hell and he had a girlfriend to consider. As I said previously, fuck her. I waited in his room, sitting on the floor shivering from the air conditioning, while he took a shower. The thought of him in the shower gave me some warmth. He came out wearing his pajama bottoms and I could see how much weight he had lost. Bitch couldn't even keep him fed. At least when he was with me he had some meat on his bones. He did the cooking, but hey, I bought the food. We picked a movie and he lay on the bed while I shivered on the floor.

"You can sit on the bed," he said. So I stood up and grabbed my favorite blanket, his grey fleece that he could never quite get the smell of motor oil out of. I didn't care, it was warm and cozy. I laid down in front of him on the bed and snuggled under the blanket. After fidgeting for a few minutes, because I could never sit still, he put another blanket over me and put his arm around me. I contemplated just turning around and kissing him, telling him I wanted to fuck, but that backfired the last time.

He had come to my apartment, for no apparent reason, just like always before we fucked. I jumped at the opportunity, threw on a black sheer chemise with boyshorts, that he loved, and interrupted his video game he was playing in the living room. He giggled and asked what I was doing.

"You know what I'm doing. Fuck me." I crawled onto his lap, wrapped in the cord to the PS2 controller.

"No, I don't want to."

"Of course you do, you always do." I licked under his earlobe, down his neck and nibbled on his shoulder. He surprised the hell out of me when he pryed me off and stood up.

"No, I have a girlfriend."

"That never stopped you before."

"I know, but I can't. We can't anymore."

There was no way I was going to do that again. He moved a few times, but no real signs of his intentions. Then he wrapped his arm all the way around me and cupped my breast. He used to sleep that way. Maybe he was just teasing, but man was I getting hot. After a few minutes he ran his hand down my body and started caressing my hip, as he pushed into me. I slowly moved my hand to his ass and pressed mine into his groin. This was going to be good. His fingers moved to my thigh, rubbing slowly, then moving to my pink lace panties. He felt me slowly, getting warmer, wetter. He sat up, pushed my skirt up, pulled my panties off, and sank down with my legs on his shoulders. I don't normally like that, I never come, but this was so good. He took his time, licking me, tasting me. My back arched as he worked, slowly, methodically, tilting my pelvis up and getting deeper. I came slowly, but hard, and he still took his time to the end, then licked my inner thighs, kissing them softly. He once told me that the inner thighs were his favorite body part.

I sat up, not sure exactly what to expect, and he put his hands on my face and kissed me, so gently. I turned to butter, completely melting into the kiss. To me, so much is said by touching the face. He was telling me that he had more for me. I reached down and pushed his pants off, and gave his lips a last lick before I went down. He had taught me to be an "expert".

"You gotta use your tongue, keep it wet, and rub your thumb all the way down, then all the way back up to the tip." That was his most sensitive spot, the part where the skin makes an arrow at the tip of his penis.

I was surprised to hear him moan, rubbing my head softly. He was normally a, "just get the job done" kind of guy. He finally pulled me up, and pushed me back onto the bed and entered me. There was no exaggerating, I couldn't keep quiet, he was so deep, so slow. I came quickly but he was not done. He knelt on the bed and pushed on my knees, still moving slowly until he couldn't wait anymore, and as he moved faster I came even harder, screaming in ecstasy, when he finally came.

After putting ourselves back together, he got us each a piece of cake. We ate in silence, watching the movie that we had already missed half of. After that and a smoke, I got my things together.

"Are you doing okay? You seem sad."

"I'm just sick of not having any money," he said.

"It's going to take time to work your way up, most people start when they're young," I joked. He smiled, but there was still hurt in his eyes. "You're doing really good, I'm proud of you."

I gathered my things together and he walked me to the door. He kept telling me to be careful. That was his way. I told him to take care of himself, knowing he wouldn't. I didn't say it, I don't know why. Couldn't bring myself to it. But I couldn't leave without letting him know. After I passed his truck, I stopped and went back. I took a receipt and a pen out of my purse.

"J-
Love you always,
-Me"

and placed it under his windshield wiper.

Love?

2005-07-25T11:55:00.000-05:00

He let me drive his new (used) SUV because he's driving on a ticket and doesn't want the hassle if he gets pulled over. I think it partly makes him feel as though he's being taken care of, which is what he loves about me. He said that we had to park in the back because the truck is so big. Hmmm. Alright. We backed in the second to last row, about 5 spots from the nearest car, on the end. Actually, I had to get out and let him back it in, as I am a horrible at reversing.

It took him about twenty minutes to arrange everything. He had two comforters folded nicely in the back, three pillows, and two smaller throws to cover ourselves with. We spread out all the food that we had brought across the front seat, put our shoes on the hatch, and our cigarettes on the wheel wells. I was curious if he would try anything. He's been with his girlfriend since we broke up in November. No matter, he always tried, and I always relented, cuz, fuck her. She had no right messing with someone while they are living with someone else. It's a good thing that we still haven't met. I've never been in a fight before, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have a problem kicking her in the teeth.

I asked him where his curtains were. Last summer when we went to the drive-in he became very good at making curtains out of the blankets in his Berretta, which was good cover for banging away during the first movie, and then getting so high that I couldn't even walk during the second. I wonder if we had ever fooled anyone, the smoke pouring out and me falling onto the rocks, giggling like a schoolgirl. Although I had only smoked a few times in my life, he had been smoking weed since he was a kid but he always insisted that I smoke just as much as him. It wasn't just the weed, either. I always had to take a bite from his plate, take a sip from his drink. Everything had to be shared. I think that was his only way to show affection. Our dates usually consisted of us getting high first, where I would giggle, then laugh at myself for giggling, then laughing out of embarrassment for giggling, and so on and so forth.

We watched the first movie pretty much in silence, alternating between eating Reese's peanut butter cups (both of our favorite), smoking (cigarettes, no weed tonite), and nachos that I had bought at White Hen. I enjoyed it, even though I had seen both movies the weekend before. Before all of the funny parts, of course I would say, "Watch this, watch this, this is funny." He always hated when I did that, which always made it that much more necessary. Of course I had to go to the bathroom before the movie was even half over. I was wearing platform sandals, which made it very difficult to walk in the rocks. Going as slowly as possible, I made it there, bought some drinks, and headed back. I was gone so long that when I returned, he was able to have one "curtain" up. I laughed, "What's that for?"

"Nothing, I just don't like that car over there." Five spaces away, remember? I was completely aroused just at the thought of him touching me. I laid on my back, trying to look as willing as possible without actually taking my clothes off.

Still, nothing.

Maybe he really didn't like the car over there. All I know is, I'm warm as hell and I'm going to have a date with the shower head later if we don't get it going tonite. The movie ended, both of us laying on our stomachs, finishing our cigarettes. We lay in silence, until finally, he moved on top of me, wrapped his arms around me and pressed firmly against my ass. I held his arms and closed my eyes, remembering what it felt like to sleep in them, our feet tangled together. God I missed him.

He got up and took a drink. I changed positions to my back again, hoping for him to take me.

"I want to have sex," he said.

"Well you need to seduce me then."

"I have to seduce you? Dammit."

I'm so slick. He takes the second throw and proceeds to make a curtain on the other side of the truck, the side facing the woods.

"You don't have to do that, no one will see. Besides, that's part of the fun of it."

He never saw it that way. Camping last summer I had endured the worst abuse from him of all. We were with two other couples. One of the guys was complaining the entire weekend that he just knew his girlfriend wasn't going to put out. My loving boyfriend responded, "She won't leave me alone, I'm gonna have to have sex." This was repeated over and over, and more adamantly as he drank two full bottles of premixed Long Island Ice Tea on his own. I was mortified. Having a husband lose interest was one thing, but this was crushing my pride. I ended up pouting in the tent a few hours before he came in and passed out. I couldn't sleep at all, embarrassment and anger keeping me awake. After a few hours he started rubbing his hands on my breasts. Finally! I turned and he pulled me on top of him. Our bodies rubbed together, driving me crazy with desire. He sat up and pushed me aside to pull his shirt off. At this point, he rolled over and went back to sleep. I finally cried myself to sleep.

As I watched him create "privacy" for us in the back of the SUV, none of these things escaped my mind. No, he didn't deserve the care that I gave him, the love that I held for him, or the longing that kept allowing him back into my life. But the images in my mind of him crying on my shoulder, describing the love for his daughters who he so selfishly lost contact with, his father kicking him in the face and breaking plastic hangers over his back as a child, and his addictions that gripped him. He had told me many times who wanted to be, who he knew that he needed to strive to be. He told me all of the things he wanted to give me, he described all of the ways that I showed him my love for him, completely undeserving of any of it. I knew he loved me. I knew what all of this meant. This was the only way we could share our love for each other. And I knew that once it was over, it would disappear once more, until he needed me the next time.

In thirty years I had never felt lips so soft, tasted a kiss so sweet. We both ripped off our own clothing, neither of us wanting to wait, but still searching each other's bodies. I was reminded how it felt to have his hands on my breasts, my nipple between his teeth. He had toned a bit since our last encounter, I ran my fingers lightly up his forearms, then pressed my nails into his muscular back. He touched me, softly, two fingers pressing, slipping, made me ache. I gasped when he entered slowly. I rolled my hips, wanting him farther. Groaning, I didn't remember him feeling so good. I wanted him deeper, harder, both of us moving quickly. I didn't care if anyone heard or saw the truck moving to our wild rhythm. That was the fun part, right?

Every time we fucked we feared it would be the last. His bitch girlfriend couldn't give him pussy this good, and maybe if I found a cock that could keep me wanting half as much then I wouldn't keep letting him into my life, into my arms, between my legs. My orgasm struck me in a deep, slow wave. My yearning didn't stop. We were both dripping with sweat, still kissing, tasting, feeling.

"Get behind me."

I pushed him off and flipped over, needing him, wanting him deeper. The sound of my own moaning turned me on even more. I came again, slowly. He kissed my neck, started running his hand along my body. I knew he was close. He was pressing my flesh, squeezing my nipples between his fingers. I love the way he moves when he comes.

I couldn't stand it anymore - my moans turning to screams, I bit the back of my hand. Feeding off of each other, I know this makes him crazy which makes my next orgasm stronger, faster, both of us out of control.

There is no holding afterwards, no kissing. But there never really was anyway. This isn't lovemaking, it's fucking, just the way it's always been. But I know when he tells me he loves me as I'm driving away that its true. Its not enough, but it's the truth. I've never felt it so deep in my heart as I have for this dysfunction.