Never Enough, Part 1

When I first meet a man I find attractive, all these thoughts start skittering around in my head. What does he look like naked? Is he cut or uncut? Does his cock curve slightly to the left, or does it point straight out, like a divining rod searching for a wet hole to bury itself in? Does he like it better when the woman’s on top, or when he is? Does he make sounds while he’s fucking a woman, soft, little moans, or loud, insistent grunts? And there are many, many other thoughts like these that enter my head, believe you me.

Tonight, Zeb is the man I’m having these thoughts about. I’m sitting across from him in a sushi restaurant, and I’m wondering if he can tell what I’m thinking about, that I’m picturing him naked, both of us naked, tangled in a sweaty mess of fucking and thrusting and sucking and “

“So, you grew up in New York City? What’s it like, moving from there to here, to a small city in California? Zeb looks at me expectantly, and I have to squash down these thoughts I’m having, burry them deep so he can’t see them on my face.

I take a sip of sake, swallow my bite of California roll, its seaweed salty on my tongue. “It’s¦very different, I suppose. I mean, this town only has one sushi restaurant. In New York City, it’s almost like there are millions. But I read about a study awhile ago that said that having too many choices is worse than having too few “ you’ll often become stressed out because there are too many options, and you’ll most likely chose the worst one. Zeb certainly isn’t a bad choice, but probably not one I would have made back there, in the city I used to call home. There, hundreds of supermodel-gorgeous men walk the streets, and I mentally undressed each and every one. My inner thighs would be soaking wet by the time I got home, and I’d picture each one of them for a second or two while I furiously rubbed my clit “ the one with the long, dark hair and the piercing blue eyes slowly licking a trail between my breasts¦the one who smiled at me like he knew what I was thinking about him, he would twirl his fingers through my pubic hair, so gently, and then give it a sharp little tug, bringing a small gasp from me¦the one riding a bike in the hideous but skin-tight bike shorts, the one with a great ass, he would be sliding his fingers in and out of me, fast, quick, furious. And there were more, every day, more and more, and I’d spend a good hour every evening after work picturing them working me over like a cheap whore, a slut, and I’d come over and over. But I can’t tell Zeb any of this, so I just say, “I like it better here, actually. Even though that isn’t even slightly true.

He pays the tab, and we leave the restaurant, out into the bitter cold of deep, dark winter. I feel my nipples harden, not from arousal, although Zeb doesn’t have to know the difference. I’ve gone without a bra this evening, and as Zeb is getting ready to say goodbye, I see him make eye-contact with them, each of them cheerily telling him hi, and that I’m open for business. I can’t be sure that he’ll get the message, though, so I smile as sweetly as I can and say, “You want to come back to my place for some wine and the view? I can get on the roof of my building, and the view from there is amazing. You can actually see the ocean, far off in the distance. It’s beautiful.

“Well, sure, why not? Zeb says, smiling at me “ a charming, sexy smile, one that makes me think that I might’ve chosen him in New York City after all.

He drives us to my place in his truck, which was dark blue and sparkling in the streetlights as we walked towards it. I tell him, “turn right here, and “turn left at Alder Avenue, and then we’re here, at my apartment building. I unlock the front door and lead him up the steps to my place, to get the bottle of Rioja I have in there “ it’s been waiting for a moment like this since I moved here two weeks ago.

We make small talk while I open the wine and grab two mugs. I joke with him about how tacky it is, to drink the wine out of mugs, especially since they have retro pin-ups on them. I’m wondering if he thinks that means I’m bi, that I’ll do him and a woman at the same time, maybe some other night, but I’m thinking that tonight will be it. After all, it may be a small city, but there’s plenty more local talent where he came from. I’ve seen a few of them already, highly undressable men walking down the semi-crowded streets. Nothing like where I used to live, but it’ll have to do¦for now, at least.

After grabbing a blanket from the couch, I lead Zeb up the steps to the roof “ he carries the mugs, I carry the uncorked bottle of sexwine. He doesn’t know that I snuck a few condoms into my pocket while he wasn’t looking. He doesn’t have to know, either, but I’m hoping he will know at some point, some point soon. We reach the roof, and he lets out a happy sigh at the view. “You’re right, it’s an amazing view.

We sit down, side by side, in a couple of lawn chairs which have been sitting here since I moved in. The lawn chairs are pushed close together, and I help him drape the blanket over us. It is a cold night, after all, and I know I’ll notice the cold if and when I get naked, but I don’t care “ it will be worth it. We sip the wine from our mugs for a few moments, both of us silent for the first time in a few hours. Then “

“Can I kiss you? he asks. I nod my head, quickly, and he places his mug next to his chair “ I do the same “ and he leans forward, and our lips meet. He’s a very good kisser, I learn, gentle at first “ but when I give him permission with my lips, with the way I kiss him, he becomes rougher, more insistent, more in control. He mashes his mouth against mine, biting at my lips, invading my mouth with his tongue. It’s his for tonight, and so am I, and I hope he knows as much. Then, he surprises me, grabbing me and pulling me over his knee. “You’ll take ten smacks for being such a naughty girl, he says, and I’m delighted, giggling, and then his hand comes down, and goddamn if it doesn’t come down hard. Each time his hand lands on my ass, I am surprised at the strength behind each smack, and then the tenth one comes, and then I’m off his lap and proffering the condoms. “Two of them, huh? He grins at me, a grin full of dirty thoughts and dirty plans. “Let’s save those for later. First, I want you to suck my cock.

“Happily, I reply, and he stands, while I get down on my knees. His jeans are the kind with a button fly, the kind which are so fun to open, because snap-snap-snap, they’re always open in mere seconds, and that makes them seem kinkier, sexier than boring zippered pants. His cock pops out, making it clear that he isn’t wearing any underwear, a fact I certainly don’t mind, a fact that turns me on very, very much.

It’s mid length, but thick, though I barely have time to look at it before he says, “Open wide, and shoves it into my mouth. It spreads my lips far apart, and I suck him down as deep as I can, my tongue tasting his salty flesh as I do. He’s a grunter, not a moaner, it turns out, all man, all rough and savage. He fucks my face a little, which, lucky for him, is something I always love. He doesn’t go too deep, though, so I don’t gag at all and I can suck him longer without coming up for air. But he wants other parts of me now, the greedy man, and he pulls me up, and spreads out the blanket it front of the chairs.

“I’m so glad you planned this out so well, you cute little slut. He picks up one of the condoms, tears off the foil, rolling it onto his cock, and I slide out of my skirt and panties. “Take off your shirt, too. I want to see your tits.

“Yes, and I do as he says, and now I’m completely naked, and he can see all of me.

to be continued…

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Maggie Morton

Maggie Morton's first novel, Dreaming of Her, is published by Bold Strokes Books - it's an erotic, lesbian, fantasy novel, and has a fair share of romance as well. Her gay, fantasy novella A Fairy's Embrace is published by Xcite Books, and her writing appears in various anthologies, including Eve's Big Bang, Kinky Girls, and Dark Desires. She lives in Northern California with her partner and their Japanese Bobtail.

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