Long Road to Ruin

I shivered as his hand caressed my back.

"I'm mad at you. Go away." I pouted at him.

"I know you are." He responded, leaning in and kissing the back of my neck just below the hair line. "But that doesn't mean you want me to stop."

"I want you to stop." I told him looking him in the eye, and meaning it.

"No you don't." He said and kissed me.

His kiss melted my resolve. I didn't want him to stop. I turned around and he pinned my shoulders to the wall.

"Tell me you love me." He demanded.

"NO." I asserted. "The last time I told you I loved you, you left me."

I opened my eyes with a start, slightly nauseous, and hit the alarm. "God damn it." I swore to myself. "Stay fucking out of my dreams. I'm Ok, but it isn't fair when you visit my dreams." I announced to the empty room, throwing my quilt off, and sliding out of bed, refusing to finish what my dream had begun. I knew I would regret it later, but right now I didn't want to think of him, and thinking of him would be the only way to find relief.

I stumbled into the kitchen and started my first cup of coffee, the one that sustained me through the morning of mediocre office brew. I turned on the radio: morning chatter. "Shut up and play some music," I demanded of the DJ crossly.

I stepped into the shower, welcoming the hot waters caress like a gentle lover. It eased the dream from my eyes, but like other lovers I had sought, it did not erase the memory of him from my mind. From our first kiss, he held me in thrall. I could say "no," but I could never mean it.

The DJ finished chattering, and I recognized the beginning notes of The Foo Fighters' LONG ROAD TO RUIN. I smiled to myself. I loved when the universe mocked me. It had been a long road to ruin as I looked into his eyes that first night under the street lights.

"Take me home with you." He said.

"No." I said slightly breathless from our first kiss.

He leaned in and kissed me again. "Take me home with you."

"My apartment is trashed. Take me to your place." I countered. I hadn't expected drinks to turn into dinner, and dinner to turn into more drinks. It was as much the conversation about time and space, intertwined with the discussion about the illusion of reality, and my suspicion that there was hidden depth beneath his quiet exterior, as it was the strong deliberate kiss that was swaying me to relent.

"Mine is worse than yours." He replied, after turning up the heat on his kiss. "No one has been in my apartment since I moved in."

"Then I guess we are each going home alone." I shrugged in response to end the discussion.

He leaned in one last time, held me by my shoulders, and gave me a long passionate kiss. It started out slowly, sensuous, gained heat and need, and then ended abruptly, almost violently, leaving me breathing as if I'd run a marathon. "Get in your car and follow me." He said.

He lived downtown in a large Victorian house that had been pieced into apartments. We kissed as he unlocked the door. On our way to his bedroom, I noticed that his place was worse than mine,scattered with open boxes half filled with books the other half spilling onto the floor, orphaned take out cartons and beer bottles littered the living room, but he had sheets on the bed, and that was all that mattered at that moment. I stood at the foot of his bed, and let him remove my shirt, and unbutton my jeans. As they fell to the floor, a flash of lightening illuminated my red lace bra and thong.

"Lay down on the bed." He ordered. A rumble of thunder punctuated him. He undressed quickly, his eyes never leaving me, and joined me on the bed. He kissed me with the same intense hunger he had shown earlier outside the bar, and pulled me on top of him. I was hungry myself and ground my pussy onto his cock. I hadn't gotten a good look at him in the strobe light flash of lightening, but I knew by the feel of him that he was big.

He pushed the narrow fabric barrier of my panties out of his way, and thrust his cock inside me. I cried out in surprise at the size of him. He had the largest cock that I had ever felt. I sat up and began riding him slowly, acclimating myself to him. I reached behind me and loosened my bra. He reached up, and began working a nipple, slowly and gently at first, but intensifying like his kiss had.

Under his skillful manipulations I could feel myself working to orgasm. I steadied myself by placing my hand on his stomach, and tightening my grip on him with my legs. I came hard. He slowed slightly, but he did not stop his attention to my nipple. As I rode my passion he began working my other nipple too, peaking me to another orgasm that crested just as the first subsided.

At the end of it, I collapsed on him, but he did not let me rest. He slid out from underneath me, and pulled my panties off. Raising my hips off the bed, he entered me from behind, and began fucking me hard and fast. I was still sensitive from my first two orgasms, and his size was intense, with each thrust he hit my sweet spot. I buried my head in the pillow, and screamed "Oh GOD!" into it as my third orgasm broke. I felt him cum a second later.

A roll of thunder shook the apartment, a second before he collapsed exhausted on top of me. We laid there suspended in time for a moment until the rain began. He rolled off of me, and ferreted a bottled water from beside the bed. He offered it to me, and we drank in silence listening to the storm, before he gathered me close to him, and we drifted into sleep. Throughout the night distant thunder would wake us and we would make love again, but it never reached the fever pitch of the first encounter.

I slipped out early the next morning to get ready for work. Not sure what I felt after such an intense encounter. I left a note on the bathroom mirror with my number, "Thanks for the sex."

I walked dazed through my day, distracted by my reflections on the night before. My phone died in the night, so I had no contact with the outside world. When I got home and charged my phone, I saw he had sent a text "Let's have sex again sometime."