Passion and Dash

A pash at a club, a two week textathon, now tonight he’s coming over for beers and a DVD “or something”. I shouldn’t have agreed, but it is Monday, there’s not much on TV.

Fuck! What was I thinking?

He arrives at 7.45pm. He is big. Tall. He has the build of a rugby player but plays AFL. His youth shows in the evening light, enhanced by the boardies and pale yellow tanktop.

It’s awkward at first. He comes in and sits in the middle of the couch.
He “forgot” the beer.
I sit next to him, “watching” Idol. Now what?
Next he puts his hand high on my thigh, then moves it toward my crotch.
A quick kiss. Within seconds we are pulling at each other’s clothing.
“God I hate jeans,” he says.

My belt and jeans seem to vanish, his fingers slip under the black lacy panties that I took such care to select and that he seems to ignore, suddenly his fingers are working in my womanly zone, pushing harder and higher and somehow finding just the right spot, I should stop and slow this all down, my top is still on, we’ve hardly kissed, but it feels so good. I turn a little and it feels even better and his fingers go faster and faster. Despite his youth he is adept. I get his shirt and boardies off, his blue jocks are riding at high mast and pulsing fit to burst. It doesn’t take long for the jocks to vanish. He’s hung like a horse. He suggests the bedroom. “Do you have anything?” “No.” A brief stand off. “We’d better stop.” He quickly agrees to put on one of mine.

In the bed we impatiently switch positions to get the enormous mast sailing towards port. Contact. Gee whiz that must be the gee whiz spot. Every thrust feels so good. He reaches his crescendo and it’s very nice although none for me then whew, it’s done.

As quickly as we started he rolls off.

He dives for his clothes. I’d better do the same. We dress almost as quickly as we undressed, then he heads for the door. He fumbles as he tries to flick the lock.
“See ya,” he mumbles.
“Or maybe not…?” I reply, my face burning as if I’ve been slapped.
He’s not really listening, he jumps in the car and speeds off.

Minutes later a text arrives. I just hope he’s not going to be mean. Please don’t add insult to injury.

8.23pm I cant see you again. I have a girlfriend and I feel too bad

Oh. So that’s what it was all about. Funny, how he didn’t feel bad about it all the times he’d texted me.

8.28pm And sorry I didn’t stay but I felt bad

Ironically, that actually helped.

So, Monday night at my place. DVD and beers it was not.

Time for Californication on TV. How ironic.

Passion and Dash

Shannon Meadows

Joined January 2008

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Artist's Description

Fiction, raunchy, written for In the Moment competition.

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