Sarah moaned in unisone to his panting grunts all through his orgasm as he emptied himself inside of her, before rolling over to the side, reaching for his cigarettes. The sweat on his forehead was stinging his eyes.
He liked fucking her. She was young, fresh, about half his age. And for being a man in his late forties, she was that perfect type of distraction he needed.
"Have you talked to her?" She lit a cigarette of her own.
She didn't even care about fluffing the pillow behind her neck.
"No." His answer was brief, he didn't try to sound short, but he wasn't up for the topic.
"When?" She took a deep draw of her cigarette, held the smoke in for a couple of seconds, before blowing it out to the side.
"When what?" He very well knew what she wanted to talk about.
"She deserves to know, don't you think?" She didn't want to leave the subject.
What did Sarah have to do with what Caren deserved on not?
"I will." He was getting increasingly annoyed by her unwillingness to let it go.
"But when?"
"Look, it's not that easy." Perhaps he could change the direction of it, pleading to her conscience not to push him on this.
"I love you." She was using her cute girl's voice now. "I want more of you, more than...this"
She made a gesture around her apartment and the two of them.
Steve got up, walked up to the window and gazed outside.
She kept watching him. She really enjoyed looking at his upper back and shoulders without his shirt on, and it made it tingle in places seeing him like that. That, and the sheer fact that she had faked her orgasm, again, not that she minded really. If she wanted an orgasm, she could take care of it herself, she was a big girl. She probably would take care of herself once he had left, which probably wasn't long from now.
She had given up on asking him to stay for the night, but that was really what she most of all wanted. To have him, all for herself, if only for one whole night.
"Do you love me?" She asked him, and he looked at her.
"You know I do."
"But you never say it."
"Sure I do." He thought about if and when he would have said it.
"I love you," she repeated, "Can't you just at least say it back?"
He looked at her.
"You should get a puppet if you want someone to say things the way you want it."
Now, he could see on her face that that had hurt her, and that was probably a little harsh. He felt a brief urge to feel sorry for her and apologize, but something kept him from opening that door, he didn't want to be restrained by... feelings. Instead he started to get dressed.
She stayed in bed, finishing her cigarette and kept watching him. She still had his cum inside of her, and it had started to pour out a little onto the bed under her.
She kept her bare butt on top of it, in order for it to not turn cold.
Steve went into her kitchen and opened her refrigerator.
"Are you having guests over?" He didn't like the idea of her seeing other men besides him.
"No, why?" she called out.
"Seems you were preparing something." He reached for a beer, opened it and took a sip.
"No. Oh yes, I was making lunch for the week." She lied. She had indeed prepared something. For him, in the rare event that he actually would be staying, or at least wanted to have dinner with her.
"I have to run."
He always had to run. As usual he got out the door without even kissing her goodbye. The Steve she knew from before they had sex was so different from the man leaving her.
She remained in her bed for a while, listening to his footsteps, the elevator, the door downstairs. She knew not to push him. She loved him, and she knew he loved her, or at least he liked her, or at least he liked to fuck her. It was... something.
She got up and locked the door and went back to bed.
The emptiness inside, every time he left, was grinding her.
She reached out to her bedside drawer and pulled out her vibrator.
"Well, at least I have you." She pretended to talk to her toy, using her cute girl's voice again. She flipped it on, and the buzzing sound started. She knew that, if she only "rubbed one out", she would feel a little bit better, and she had in fact been left very horny.
The vibrations transplanted through her pussy and out through her legs as she gently slid it over her pussy and right above her clitoris. She used her other hand to caress herself, spreading her lips, rubbing her hand over them, gently, circling, harder, faster, letting her finger slip inside of her, she knew very well how to take care of herself.
She was really wet, mostly from his cum still inside of her, but she didn't mind that.
On the contrary, she pretended that he was still fucking her after he had finished, eager to make her cum. She slid the vibrator slide inside her. The vibrations kept spreading, stimulating her. It made her feel good. She experimented trying to find the perfect level of tension around it, tried to make the vibrations transplant the most.
If she clenched too hard around it, she tended to choke it. Her pussy was in fact tight, and her vaginal muscles were very strong.
She really needed to get herself a stronger vibrator...
She tensed up and wrapped her legs tightly around her hand, with her fingers rhythmically pushing the toy in and out inside of her, as her orgasm spread from her pussy, up through her stomach and out through her legs. She clenched hard around it, trying to make it last.
She pictured herself wrapping her legs around his head, as he was licking her, making her cum with his eager tongue and lips.
She stayed like this for a minute, waiting out her orgasm, before she decided to get up.
"Well, Sarah." She urged herself.
"That was wonderful Sarah, was it good for me too?"
"Yes, I am the best I've ever had." That last part was probably true.
She used to talk to herself like this to keep from feeling lonely.
"Let's have dinner and get drunk in front of the TV"
"Yeah!" She cheered herself on.
The emptiness had faded a little and she got into the kitchen. The not even half started beer was still standing on the counter and she picked up from where he had left it.
* * *
Steve kept driving, he wasn't necessarily going anywhere in particular, certainly not home, that's for sure. City lights and people were floating by as he was slowly rolling down the street. The city life and the bars made him feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside.
He wasn't being honest with Sarah about not telling his wife, or rather, his soon to be ex wife. The divorce was already being concluded. He basically just had to sign the papers, but he wasn't in much of a hurry to do so. He hadn't told Caren about Sarah, that part was still true, but what business was that to either of them?
He needed a drink.
He pulled over and parked his car right outside what looked to be a hotel bar. He hadn't picked it. It was more like it had picked him. Perhaps it was the available parking spot.
A free slot next to a bar, almost as if it had been reserved just for him.
It was warm inside, dim lighting, some ambient kind of soft, slow jazz streaming out from hidden speakers. And there it was, the bar, with a counter stretching from all the way back in the room, all the way to the center of it.
A swing door seemed to lead out to a kitchen in the back, but he wasn't hungry.
He seated himself at one of the longer ends, lighted a cigarette and ordered a whiskey. Two actually. For starters. The very first gulp of alcohol aroused him, warmed him up inside, as if it was saying to him, "Hey man, welcome back."