FFF

He hated her.

 

He hated those damned earrings her gave her.

 

She'd ruined his life.

 

But men could not be sexually harassed.  And especially not by a drop dead gorgeous woman . . . now matter how big a soul sucking bitch she was.

 

He'd lost his wife, his family, his home, and even his fucking collection of Superman comic books because his wife demanded those in the divorce.  He'd lost his reputation.  At work, everyone saw him as "her boy" . . . no matter that he earned this job long before she was hired and not a damned one of them could put up w her behind closed doors.

 

But no more.

 

Tyler Durden understood, "he that's lost everything is free to do anything".

 

Commanded again to perform, he 'encouraged' her to bend over her desk.  Grim faced, he flipped his tie over his shoulder and slid into her.  Slipping into her, he decided this was the last time. 

 

"How does she always manage to be so wet?" 

 

He lubed himself up on her wetness more for him than her pleasure.  Holding her firmly across her desk, he pulled all the way out of her.  Eyeing his goal, he smiled, she did not know what was coming.

 

When he began pressing back inside of her, it was her ass he was claiming.

 

She started to move away, but was trapped in his grip against the desk. 

 

Fucking her ass until he was done w her, he said, "consider this my resignation".

 

 

Confession: I Was Married Once

It happened not long after Harley left me for the first time.

 

I think I've said before, but I doubt y'all will recall - Harley and I lived together for quite a while many years ago.  The age difference didn't matter to me.  And I don't think it matter any to Harley.  He's very outgoing and his friends were always over.  He never tried to exclude me from any of their activities.  I was excited to come home every day after work.  I wanted to be everything he ever wanted in a wife.  And yeah, while he hadn't proposed, I dreamed that he would eventually.  I've often thought this was one of the happiest times of my life.

 

He left to return to his first wife because he missed seeing his kids every day.  I was married a few months later.  Aside from mom's dying, this was the worst time of my life.

 

It was the cliché rebound relationship.  I knew it was a mistake pretty soon after we were married, but I was honestly determined to make it work.  Looking back, I tried a whole lot harder than I should have.  I was young and naïve.  I felt guilty, like it was my fault for holding him to an unfair standard (Harley).  I took the blame for anytime he got angry.  I thought I was a stronger woman than that - that I would never let myself be in an abusive relationship.  And yet, there I was, taking the blame for when he lost his temper . . . and for getting beaten. 

 

One night, the last night we were together, I had rushed home from work to fix dinner.  When you're in that kind of relationship, you can feel another outburst coming on.  In my warped brain, I thought I could make everything like it used to be when we first got married by having dinner ready when he got home and maybe wearing something sexy for him.  (Now that I think about it, this maybe has something to do w my not being all that great a cook.  Most of his outbursts happened either when I was cooking or right afterwards - because of his drinking and not my cooking, thank you very much.)  When he got home, I could tell he'd been drinking again.  He was always more angry after he'd been drinking.  He saw me in a very shear nightgown and immediately wanted sex.  I don't know, I guess I should have been flattered, but he stank of sweat and beer, and his erections always lasted forever when he was drunk.  I had fully planned on putting out after dinner.  Dinner was going to get ruined.  I was starving.  And he stank.  I just didn't want to be underneath him forever and then eat a ruined dinner.  I tried to encourage him to eat first.  A little something in his stomach would also help sober him up.  In hindsight, maybe I should have just gone to the bedroom and laid down.  When he was done, he probably would have just rolled over, gone to sleep, and I could have found something to eat alone in the living room.  But I didn't.  He got angry and began accusing me of all sorts of things.  He always accused me of sleeping around when he was angry (and, for the record, I had not once).  He threw dinner off the stove making a mess and burning me a little bit w the splatter.  When I got angry, he smacked me to the ground as well.  Then he stormed out to be w people that appreciated him more, he said; code to drink more.

 

I cried on the kitchen floor for what seemed like hours.  The thing that motivated me to call 911 was knowing he had gone out to drink more and would be even worse when he got back.  Making that call was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

 

The police were there in seconds.  There was an officer who lived in the complex and he came running over from his apartment.  Several cars soon arrived.  I was embarrassed at the attention.  Being Harley's ex made me fairly well known.

I was completely shocked when I saw Harley rush into our apartment a few minutes later . . . with my dad right behind him.  Daddy told me later that one of the officers on scene first had called Harley who had then stopped to get him.  The two men I loved most in the world were there on either side of me - and they had apparently already decided I was leaving that night.  Now that I think about it, there never was any real discussion.  Daddy just packed my car and drove me home.  Harley followed and stayed until the officers radioed that they had my ex in custody (I would have loved to have seen his face when the police came into the bar to get him).

I was divorced a short time later.

 

 

Harley Returns

I am my own worst enemy.

 

Harley texted out of the blue this past week.  Nothing special.  His standard "hey there".  It had been a pretty crummy week, Harley's text came at the right moment to boost my spirits, and so I texted right back.  I went w the equally eloquent "hey".

 

Fortunately, we soon moved past our initial mutual guardedness and proceeded to blow up each other's phone.  All he would say was that he had been thinking about me - not what caused him to start thinking about me or what he had been thinking or anything - in other words it was probably mostly just a line.  I didn't care.  I ranted about everything f'ing wrong in my world. 

 

He's continued to text through the week.  No hints about wanting to see me or anything.  But the texts are beginning to get more flirty.  I figure its either a matter of time or he's positioning me to make an overture.

 

When enough time passes, I do okay at getting through most days w/o thinking about him.  As long as I haven't been drinking, then I can usually resist the urges to reach out to him.  But when he reaches out to me again, I just don't have it in me to not respond. 

 

And its always so complicated when I do respond.  Don't be too guarded, but don't be too aggressive.  Don't be too critical, but don't pretend like its completely okay he fell off the face of the earth again.  Don't sound like your schedule is packed full, but don't sound like you've just been sitting and waiting on his call either.  Like now, he's probably positioning me to suggest we go out some night soon, but I've learned that he almost never goes when I make the suggestion first.  When anything else gets this complicated I walk away.  But I can't w Harley.  At the end of this complicated dance, is happiness because we're together . . . .

 

. . . until he goes away again.

A while back, a very dear friend suggested a video about me and Harley's dysfunctional complicated dance (YouTube: The Friend Zone).  I went back today and watched it again several times. 

 

FFF

 

"Who does this remind you of", Therapist asked the group.

 

It was a bizarre group.  A group of women, all w man issues, in a group being led by a man.  Sometimes, to get things started, he would show them a picture and ask them what it reminded them of.  Since it was a bizarre group - he showed bizarre pictures.  Her favorite had to be the angel sitting at a table drinking Jack straight from the bottle.  It reminded her of her. 

 

Most described a fight w their boyfriend.  One where he apologized for whatever sin he had committed, thought they would want to immediately spread their legs, then whining w insistence till they said yes.

 

"Rachel", Therapist asked turning to her.

 

"Harley".

 

"After a fight", someone prompted.

 

"I see photo guy being like my boyfriends - all but for Harley -  asking to fuck; then whining if I'm not in the mood." 

 

"You thought of Harley because he is not like all the others," Therapist said, "what does he do that's different".

 

"He doesn't ask".

 

 



The Boyfriend's Booty Call Concludes

Boyfriend took me out to a local sports bar.  Yes guys, I am that girl who likes to drink beer, watch football, and fuck.  We had a great night out.  The beer was cold.  The waitresses were hot.  The games were great.  It was maybe one of the best nights I can recall ever out w the Boyfriend.

 

We even had a few semi-serious conversations about our relationship.  And that's something we just never do!  He had been staring at me and smiling.  It was a little disconcerting.  I asked him several time - "what".  He would just change the subject or make some dorky comment about me being pretty (like I'm not smart enough to see through that).  Now, we weren't fighting.  It was more playful than anything. 

Finally, I told him if he ever expected to get head again, he had better speak.  He said that was kind of what he was thinking about.  "What, wanting head again", I said back laughing.

"That's not what I meant - and yes maybe when we get back to the apartment - I meant in all the years we've been together, you have never told me no".  At first I said how I told him no all the time; that I maybe disagreed w him too much.  That's when he leaned forward onto the table and in his serious Boyfriend voice (I rarely get the serious Boyfriend voice) said, "you know what I mean (I really didn't), you have never told me 'no' when I've wanted to make love". 

 

I think its funny how life does things.  Daddy and I will be watching a game, he'll make some bizarre comment and a few seconds later the announcer will make the same comment.  I write a post about not saying "no" to the Boyfriend and, about a month later, he's making the same comment.  Daddy is always asking if ESPN has a microphone in our house.  Guess I should wonder if the Boyfriend has found my blog.

 

He started telling me about the guys in his office and how they were all bitching about sex; specifically, the lack of sex.  Apparently, they struck out at home far more often than they got laid.  He said that's when he started thinking and realized that he had not struck out once; not ever.  "The more I thought about you always being there whenever I needed you . . . the more I needed you". 

I responded back to the Boyfriend that taking care of him was kind of like my job.  He said he liked that, but added that our relationship "under construction" at the moment and he didn't know what I would do.  This is the closest we have come to having a serious conversation about my moving out. 

I apologized for making things complicated.  He shocked me when he said he completely understood - the car accident and Mom's dying - "it had to feel like your world was falling apart".  "I understand you need some time to sort things out.  Later, we can see if we both still want the same things and if we want to try again".  For the Boyfriend, this was a deep relationship discussion!

The beer, the food, the games, the talk, I was feeling pretty good by the time we returned to his apartment.  In the bathroom, I remembered his original request earlier that evening about me being naked and I smiled, "why not".  However, I decided to add a little kink to his request - I came out of the bathroom totally naked except for my heels.

I found him in the kitchen.  He took one look at me and his smile was all the appreciation I needed.  I walked into his open arms for a series of kisses.  Its very submissive and sexy being naked in a pair of high heels w your lover fully clothed.  In time, he took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom.

He sat me on the edge of the bed.  Then, lifting my legs into the air, he lowered himself onto his knees and tasted my wetness.  When he stood up, he lowered my legs and grabbed my arm to spin my head towards the edge of the bed.  I had an idea what was expected.  He lowered his pants and I opened my lips to receive him.  We went back and forth like this for a while.  He would get on his knees between my legs for a while, then he would stand and pull my mouth back onto his dick. 

When he was ready, he had me stay on the bed, but get onto my hands and knees.  Standing, he came up behind me.  He slid into me w ease.  Taking my hair into his hands he pulled my head up and then just stood there deep inside of me.  He let go of my hair and pushed my head gently down onto the mattress so that just my ass was sticking up into the air.  I love this position.  Taking my hips firmly into his grip, he began to thrust.  Gently at first, then harder and faster.  I don't know if it was whiskey dick or what, but he had amazing staying power.  He pounded me forever!!!!  The Boyfriend is not one to change positions once he starts fucking and I was totally okay w that this time. 

I love being an active aggressive participant in making love.  I also love being the willing vessel and just receiving.  That evening, high heels still on, my ass high up in the air, on my hands and knees, face buried in the mattress, I was enjoying being ridden hard by the Boyfriend. 

I can always tell when the Boyfriend is close to cumming.  He breathes a little different and grunts a little more.  Laughing.  The poor thing must have been on the edge for a very long time because he was making those familiar noises for a very long time.  When he did explode inside of me, I could tell he was totally spent.

I tried to move my head just a bit to look back at him, but he stopped me.

"Don't move", he panted almost like it was all he could do to say that much. 

"Okay", I said laughing, "I won't.  But you ought to sit down".

"Not yet . . . I'm right where I want to be".

I smiled and stayed right where I was.  I'm not really sure how long I stayed there like that for him.  I kept my head on the mattress, closed my eyes, and just let him enjoy being inside my well-fucked sheath.

 All in all, I would say the Boyfriend did pretty well for his "booty call".



By Request

Advizor asked me to finish the story.  There really isn't that much to tell, but far be it for me to leave him wanting.   :)

 

I changed to go over.  I know, it seemed kind of silly to me also to get dressed knowing that I was going to get undressed as soon as I got there.  To my defense, I had decided he was going to take me out for dinner and drinks after he got his dick sucked.  Mostly, it had been a long week and I wanted to get drunk.  Boyfriend could be my DD.  And I figured that after swallowing his cum and a fair amount of top shelf alcohol that I'd be wanting to get laid as well.  I changed into my local slutty clothes. What I will wear around my hometown is considerably different from what I will wear out of town.  In this case, I put on a very low cut sheer blouse, painted on blue jeans, and my favorite pair of black heels.  My goal was sexy enough to have the Boyfriend change his mind and want me to stay clothed.

 

Arriving, the Boyfriend almost seemed surprised to see me.  I said laughing that if he wasn't all that excited, then maybe I should go on back home and turned like I was going to leave.  He damned near leaped to grab my shoulders shouting that he was excited and led me into the living room.  He said he was afraid I might change my mind or was just teasing him.  I made it very clear to him that I had never left him hanging . . . or erect I should maybe say. 

 

We jabbered for a little bit about nothing of any importance.  I finally told him he was going to have to tell me when he was ready for me to get down on my knees for him.  He kind of laughed and said, "how about now".  Standing, because we had been sitting on the couch, I asked him again "in clothes or out".  The test - how sexy had I dressed.  "You do look nice", he said.  Smart man to compliment the girl getting ready to suck on his dick.  He had decided on "in clothes" when I suggested I take my top off . . . "in case any spills" (God forbid cause I do try to swallow it all).

 

He remained sitting on the couch like a king on his throne.  I kind of liked that image when I thought about it then.  I was surprised his dick was not hard when I set it free.  That was okay too though, I also like getting my lover hard in my mouth.  Men can't really know what that feels like.  Its a special feeling for a woman; at least, it is for me.  I like knowing that I am doing something my lover finds exciting and that he wants me.  Men are not always the most talkative, so I guess God found a way for the penis to do its talking for a man. 

 

I have learned that the Boyfriend responds best to my holding him deep in my mouth for prolonged periods alternating w vigorous head bobbing.  This blowjob progressed pretty quickly.  It had been a while for us.  And apparently it had been a long time for him!!!!  I swear he deposited a bucket full in my mouth!!!

 

The Boyfriend Texts For Help

The Boyfriend was blowing up my phone last night.  And before you say "so what", let me add that it would have been weird even before our relationship went onto the back burner.  The Boyfriend and texting are not exactly on friendly terms.  If that wasn't bizarre enough, Mr. I Don't Text is also trying to be funny.  Fair enough, I will give him his props, he was making me laugh. 

 

I'm was also trying to figure out what's up?

 

I was texting my friend Randi in between texting the Boyfriend back.  Randi knew immediately, "Rache, sweetie, what is every man thinking about any time he is texting a girl".

 

Duh - Rachel can be a little slow sometimes.  (And you men are such pigs - laughing).

 

Poor thing, he was bringing his A-game too.  Despite our relationship kind of being in limbo, I do love the Boyfriend.  Being flirtatious is not his strength.  I could almost imagine a gang of guys in his apartment feeding him lines to text.  I wish there were, we might have gotten to the point a little quicker.  As it was, we texted for the longest time.  I knew he would never ask me straight out - "can I fuck you tonight?"  I thought he might eventually at least ask if I would come over.  After about 30-45 minutes of texting banter, I could tell he was never going to just put it out there.

 

"I bet you're feeling horny, am I right".

 

"Yeah . . . sorry".

 

"Sorry?  For what Sweetie?"

 

"I dunno.  I know you moved out wanting some space and here I'm texting you for sex".

 

"Don't apologize, a girl likes knowing that she turns a man on".

 

"You do.  You always have".

 

"Would you like some help w your condition"

 

"That would be GREAT"

 

"Tell me what you want".  Sadly, being aggressive or descriptive can be very hard for the Boyfriend.  But sometimes . . .

 

After a pretty long pause where I was afraid I'd asked the Boyfriend for more than he could do, he responded.  "I would really like you on your knees".

 

I smiled and asked him, "dressed or naked".

 

"Naked".

 

"I can do that for you . . . on my way".