I woke up screaming from a nightmare. I reached for the lamp and clicked it on. The light was bright. I sat and swore for a while, until the anger faded.. I looked at the little red "1:30 AM" on the clock, threw the blankets aside, got up and got dressed. That was it. No more trying to force myself to sleep and ending up in the hell of my imagination and memories. I went out, and walked.
I lived in the city, and even at that hour there was a lot available to do. Should anyone desire to do any of it. All the sex screaming at me from all sides...which didn't interest me. Shit, I thought to myself. You're fucking hopeless. I found an open coffee shop and went in.
The waitress was sitting down in a back booth having a break, so I sat at the counter. The cook came out to wait on me, wiping his hands on a towel. . I just stared at him. Short jet-black hair, huge pin-you-to-the-wall brown eyes, face flushed pink from the heat of the kitchen, and a muscular body packed into a white T-shirt and faded jeans.
"May I help you?" He asked in a soft, intelligent voice.
I thought of a thousand things he could do to help me, none of which were likely to be on the menu. Finally, I managed to spit out, "Coffee..please."
He nodded politely, set me up with a cup and saucer, then swung the pot to fill the cup.
I stared at the muscles in his arm. He had a very small rose tattoo on his forearm. I admired it a little too much, blushed, thanked him for the coffee and stared at his ass as he walked away.
My pussy began to twitch.
I watched him through the little window as he worked in the kitchen. Occasionally, he looked up and smiled at me. I tried not to sigh happily when he did that. I don't think I succeeded. After who knows how long a time, another cook came bursting through the door.
"Thanks, Mike," He gasped. "I really owe you."
Mike vanished for a minute, then came out to the counter wearing a battered denim jacket. He stopped in front of me and smiled gently.
"There's a film I want to see down the street. Would you like to come?"
I goggled at him, I know damn well I did, then nodded so happily my head nearly came off.
We walked out into the night together.
"Mike," I smiled and said.. "I'm kind of shy," I said stupidly.
He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that came up from deep inside him.
"Then I'll protect you," He managed to gasp I giggled.
Never in my entire fucking life have I giggled, but I picked that moment to start.
He stopped at a small art theater and bought two tickets. It was a beautifully filmed piece about the triumph of the love of two men.. as we watched it I laughed, I cried, I tried very hard not to cum in my pants watching it I have never seen a gay movie.. When it was over we went to my apartment..
While he walked around my apartment, I raided the kitchen, trying to throw together something halfway decent to snack on. I assembled some things on a platter, put them on the coffee table, and sat. He came and sat beside me, put his wine glass down carefully, turned to me with smoldering eyes and rapid, shallow breaths, took me in my arms and kissed me. Hungry. That's the only word for his kiss. One arm tightened around me, his other hand gripped my face as his mouth worked on mine, his tongue thrusting in deep, then flicking at mine to urge it into his mouth. His strength was very, very evident, and for one moment a thrill of fear went through me. He could do anything he wanted to me, and I'd be powerless to stop him. His hand slid down to gently close around my throat and the thrill increased. I could hear myself making very unfamiliar sounds. Soft, helplessly aroused whimpers. His kiss became demanding and his hand slid down the front of my blouse. He began unbuttoning, his fingers moving carefully but rapidly. His mouth slid off mine and went to my throat, and his teeth gently nipped at me.
"What 's your name?" He murmured.
My back arched, I couldn't talk. His fingers found my right breast and nipple, and he pinched and pulled at it. I felt it tighten and grow erect, and trembled for his mouth. He leaned down, flicked it with his tongue, then sucked it so hard my toes curled. I lay back and let him work my nipples until they twitched. His mouth slid down, and he tongue-fucked my navel. He braced a forearm against my breast, and one over my thighs as he stabbed his tongue into my navel, hard, fast and deep. I recognized it for the symbolic act that it was, and lay submissively and moaned. He undressed me carefully, openly smiling his approval at my body.
I sat naked, spread out on the couch, with him fully clothed, kneeling between my knees, toying with me with just one gentle finger. He slide the tip up one side of my pussy and then down the other, gently circling my clit never entering me. I was so wet and he was spreading my juices around making movement easy and smooth.
"Do you know what a "safe word" is?" He asked quietly.
I blinked. The term was familiar, but not enough for me to place it and I couldn't think.
He smiled gently. "It's the word you say when I go too far. Get carried away. Give you more than you want or can handle. You have the needs, and I will fulfill them. That's what this is about, fulfilled needs. All I want at this moment is to pleasure you the way you need it, in that silent place inside you. I will pleasure myself. But I will cause you no harm. Use this word when you want it to stop. Saying, "stop" will have no effect. The word "reality" will. Do you understand?"
I didn't have a clue as to what was happening to me, but I nodded.
"Reality," I repeated.
He nodded, and stood.
