A Prayer Before Sleeping

Author's Foreword: I've been wanting to write a Friends with Benefits story for a bit, but it took a while to find a setup worth pursuing. That scenario happens toward the end of the first scene.

Then, the story just languished until I landed on the religious angle to drive it to a close. It's not prominent enough to be considered satisfying to someone with a fetish, but it's a source of fun wordplay and you know it's been an intense experience when you find yourself nodding off to sleep after a thorough fucking with a prayer on your lips.

These parts are probably only going to land with people with an understanding of Christianity and some are likely to interpret the language as blasphemous, I suppose, so be aware before you start reading. Those of a certain age and experience with Roman Catholicism will likely have a more complete experience.

You'll have to judge if this is a good or bad thing. :^)

Jalgis provided an amazing edit on this -- the whole story reads better and just *is* better because of their efforts. Thanks to countrylad81 for providing feedback.

-----

Before I had my key in the lock, I could hear my roommate and his fucktoy going at it inside. What little energy I had in me left my body in an instant. He was an absolute moron with no redeeming qualities to bring to a relationship, but he could pull in trim like nobody's business. Jealousy consumed me despite my attempt at apathy toward him and the situation. It wasn't that I couldn't get laid. Far from it. It was just how easy it was for him and with some incredibly attractive and well-built women.

I whispered a silent prayer before I unlocked the door and walked into the darkened apartment. There was no noticeable change in the sounds from their coupling either in rhythm or animalistic intensity. It was just louder without the door in the way. I closed and locked the door before heading to the fridge.

"Turn my ass inside out with that monster, you dirty fucker!"

Ahh, I recognized the throaty contralto voice -- that would be Darla. An angel-faced tattoo artist with a runner's figure, deep olive tan, dirty blonde hair, piercing amber eyes...and apparently, an appreciation of anal sex.

I smiled as I grabbed a beer. At least it wasn't some mean-spirited bitch I'd have to deal with as I left for work early in the morning. I closed the refrigerator door and gave my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness before I headed off to my room. The grunting and slapping sounds continued as I passed within six feet of their shadowed form.

"Good night, guys. Not too late, ok? Work has been killing me. I really need the sleep," I implored as I walked by.

Sean gave no indication he heard or even knew as I was there. He never did. He didn't give a shit if I was there or watched or joined in probably. He had explained to me before: once he got hard, he had no other cares except for getting off. He looked to be consistent this evening as he just continued to fuck and grunt and wheeze as he worked angelic-looking Darla's tight backside.

As I reached my door, Darla offered over the sounds of their carnal ministrations, "Night, Michael. We'll try. Sleep well." I peered into the darkness but couldn't make out her face enough to tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic. Their violent coupling continued and as I closed my door behind me, so I just chose to believe she was being nice and then put it out of my mind. I turned on the TV to drown out the sounds and jumped in the shower. 12 hours between an insufficiently air-conditioned sales floor and a sweltering outside had me just wanting to clean up and cool down before sacking out.

I just stood under the lukewarm water for probably 15 minutes, zoned out and enjoying the coolish water flowing over me. After a few minutes of thinking of nothing in particular, Darla's face popped into my head. Her body soon followed. It wasn't sexual as much as it was just a simple appreciation of her physical form -- not much different than if I was admiring a well-composed photograph of a fashion model. She was just pretty...and kind of sweet. At least, that's how she was in my head. I didn't know anything about her other than she came over once a month to get off with Sean and we'd talk for 5 or 10 minutes over coffee before I left in the morning.

I shut off the water, toweled off, and patted dry my hair quickly. Then, I brushed my teeth, pulled my contacts out, and hung up my towel to dry before turning out the bathroom light and returning to my room. After putting on some boxers, I climbed into bed and grabbed my half-read book from the nightstand. I turned down the TV volume and listened. I heard no sounds from the other room. Satisfied I could read without moans or dirty talk to distract me, I turned off the TV and opened my book.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Yeah?" I answered with zero enthusiasm.

The doorknob turned and the door opened an inch.

Shit, I should have locked it.

"Michael? It's Darla. Okay if I come in for a sec?"

I sighed and rested the massive tome of wildly inappropriate bedtime reading open across my chest.

Fuck, I just want to go to sleep, Darla.

Instead, I heard myself acting friendlier than I felt, "Come on in. What's the matter?"

She acted like she was sneaking in: making no noise, opening the door as little as possible, and then closing it quietly behind her. She was just wearing a white ribbed cropped tank top and a pair of rainbow-colored, horizontal-striped high-rise panties. Her right thigh had an ornate wraparound garter tattoo and her left arm was covered in full-color tattoos from clavicle to wrist. Her smile was broad and slightly crooked, and it completed the look of the pretty girl next door.

"I'm sorry about that. It's my fault. We started making out on the couch and I got too horny for us to make it to Sean's room." She came around to sit next to me on the bed.

I'm so utterly used to it by now,

I almost mentioned aloud. I'm sure she knew she was just one of many. Hell, she probably had her own stable of regular fucks.

I didn't think the situation called for complete honesty, so I went a different route when I spoke. "It's ok, Darla. I'm not that bothered. Not the first time I've walked in on two people rutting like rabbits and won't be the last, I'm sure. At least, somebody was having a good time."

This was almost literally what I felt in the moment. If I had been rested, though, it would have been much different as my jealousy of Sean being able to have her body and mind would have caused the words to have been delivered with sarcastic intent.

She giggled. "Yup. Sean can be fun. I think I broke him tonight, though. The fucker is completely passed out now." Her hand landed on my crotch. "And I'm still REALLY fucking horny." Her eyebrow was raised as if she had asked a question of me.

My fucking luck. I was tired as all hell. I couldn't see getting a hard-on, much less putting the pipe to her. If this had been happening when I was rested, though, I'd have ripped her clothes off and been up to my balls in her before she finished the word, "horny."

"Darla, doll, that's the best offer I've had in weeks but I'm dead. All I want to do is fall asleep reading my book." I stopped short of finishing with, "...but come find me in the morning and I'll fuck you until you can't walk straight." I was really torn between respecting the unwritten guy code and wanting Darla for myself.

She laughed, a husky sexy laugh. My cock stirred. Nodding to my book, she said with some disdain, "

Infinite Jest

? Bedtime reading, huh? You've GOT to be fucking with me."

"Ok, I'll admit to pretty much just re-reading the same four pages every night the last week. Yeah, I'm getting nowhere with it." I managed the most sheepish of smiles.

She swooped in and kissed me. "You're a complete moron. Cute as hell, though." She yanked back the covers and pulled down the front of my boxers, saying, "I'm ok with just blowing you until you cum in my mouth." And with that, she put her mouth completely around my flaccid member and began to stimulate every portion with her lips and tongue with a fervor that bordered on the "religious zeal" setting. For my part, I did absolutely no protesting of any kind.

What I

did

do was begin stiffening immediately. I was completely exhausted but I wasn't dead. I marked the book, closed it, and placed it on the bed beside me as she bobbed rhythmically on my member. She had landed a hand on my chest and was alternating between dragging her fingernails lightly down my chest hair and teasingly flicking one of my nipples. The fingertips of her other hand were gently caressing or lightly scratching my balls. In less than a minute, she had me rock hard.

And then, she really went to work.

She took my full length down her throat and ground her face into my crotch. The tightness of her throat gripped the area just behind the head of my cock and sent me close to Orgasmtown almost immediately. She must have known I was close because she went into full cycle mouth-fucking mode where her lips stroked my full length from base to that same point just behind my fully engorged cockhead. Her mouth was open on the downstroke and her cheeks were hollowed out on the upstroke. All I could do was hang on for dear life -- my right hand clutching the bedsheet and my left, clutching a mitt full of her well-toned ass.

Neither of us had been making any sounds beyond the wet squelching noises her mouth was making around me. I wanted to cut loose, but no way did I want to stir up anything with Sean by him hearing me grunting into his fuck pal. I finally broke the silence by trying to warn her of the impending eruption whispering, "Gonna cum, Darla!"

She didn't do a damn thing differently after my declaration, deciding instead to continue slam fucking my prick with her mouth and throat. When she finally ripped the cum out of me, I tensed my ass and thrust into her, grunting as softly as I could manage while shooting a wad of baby batter into her mouth. At that point, she throated my length and just bobbed slightly and ground herself onto me while I thrust another shot into her. Again. Again. Again. And again -- finally after which the tension in my muscles began to abate.

She slowly pulled off of me, stopping when only the head of my cock was still in her mouth. It got the full lollipop treatment for a few seconds which elicited tremors throughout my body. I twitched, as I was too sensitive after my orgasm to control my body's reaction to what she was doing.

She released my cock from her lips with a loud pop and then giggled at me. "Somebody likes momma's mouth. You dirty fucker -- that was a massive load you gave me to swallow. I'll still be burping you up this time tomorrow night."

She laid her head on my thigh and smirked at me.

I hadn't even been aware enough to notice her swallowing. I wanted to tell her so. And how cute her smile was. And how perfect her tanned little body was. And how damned pretty she looked right now. But nothing came out. All I could do was drag the back of my fingers along her shoulder and down her back slowly before bringing my hand to rest on her hip and sighing out a very articulate, "Wow." I couldn't even manage to say her name. Why? Because I was an idiot.

After thirty seconds of no further conversation -- and what was likely me nearly falling asleep on her -- she patted my thigh, gave the tip of my cock a quick kiss, and got up from the bed. The last thing I remember was her reaching across me to grab the book and then the nightstand light going out.

-----

I had the most restful sleep in a month that night. Unfortunately, Darla was long gone before I got up which seems a little odd, but the work day was busy and smooth so I didn't have cause to dwell on it. When I got home, Sean didn't bring up the night before and I didn't see a need to bring it up either. By the time a week had passed, much of the detail had been blown free of my memory by the winds of passing time. I knew I hadn't dreamed it but I had been so damned tired at the time, what little I could remember held a dreamlike sheen to it.

I was staring off into space contemplating as much when my boss put his hand on my shoulder. I jumped.

"I'm headed over to see Nelson for lunch." Nelson was the county engineer and he and my boss went way back, I think. It was always helpful to know what contracts might be coming up to help us adjust our stock and target successful bidders, so lunch with Nelson was a regular occurrence. "Will you call Rick Counts back for me? I ran out of time this morning. I've got no idea what he wants to talk about."

"Yeah, sure." I pulled out my phone to call him back. "See you in a few hours." The store was empty so this was a great time to...what the hell??

In scrolling through my contacts to get to "Counts, Rick," the entry immediately before his name was one that shouldn't have been there:

Collins, Darla

I didn't know her last name until now, but it was definitely her as I could tell from the included picture. I opened up her contact info to find it complete with her work address, mobile number, email, and her weekly work schedule in the notes. Also included in the notes was a statement that read:

Come see me at work sometime. I'll have a gift for you.

Dafuq? How did that get in there? Fuck. Nice one, Michael. She sucks you unconscious and then uses your face to unlock your phone. Hoo. Fucking. Ray.

I checked my bank balance and my two credit cards quickly. Nothing weird in any of those accounts. I checked my wallet and nothing was missing. Was that it? Was that all she did -- just leave me the electronic equivalent of a sticky note?

Shit. I guess I was going to see her tonight.

The afternoon was a normal level of busy. After I called Rick, who wanted quotes on a new disc harrow for his tractor, the store seemed to have a slow, but steady flow of customers, mostly regulars and none of whom had an off-the-wall request or a shitty attitude. I cleared an early end time with the boss, so by 6:30 pm, I was out the door with only the register and lockup routines left to be done.

I had to stop for gas which had me pulling up to her shop just before 7:15. From my apartment, I could get to my work in just over 20 minutes and here in 20 or 25, but the trek from my job to here was a bit of a haul. The shop was a corner tenant in a small strip mall. The window was fully painted and read "Athena's Tattoos" in a thick script font with nicely done full-color art. A couple of tough-looking women in biker leathers were standing outside chatting and smoking. I noticed three bikes behind me as I locked up my truck and walked up to the door. They didn't change the tone or volume of conversation, but one nodded at me as I entered. I nodded back.

I don't know what I was expecting when I walked in, but the reality in front of me definitely wouldn't have been in any version I could come up with. It felt like a big living room except for the high, unfinished ceiling. The floors were wood with a few large rugs. The walls were a kind of -- I don't really know -- a periwinkle or similar? It felt homey and modern, though I can't imagine ever picking that color out. There were a few dark wood bookcases lining the back corners and the rest of the wall space was utilized by various pieces of art that I assumed were done by the establishment's artists. Two big brown leather couches and a black and a blue comfy chair completed the living room look. The early evening light shining through the painted window cast a lovely multi-colored glow on the front half of the shop's floor. The place smelled like lavender.

Next to the bookcases were two stations for the artists to ply their trade. Each had a desk, rolling chair, and portable lighting. At present, the station to the left had a table on which a female patron was face down, head away from me while an artist I didn't recognize worked an outline on her right shoulder blade. Neither of them stirred when I came in. Neither was talking to the other. The artist seemed lost in her work.

To the right, Darla was chatting with a woman in a high-backed chair facing the back wall. Of the woman, I could see very little, save the massive amount of dark, wavy hair tied up on the top of her head and the exposed olive-colored skin on the back of her neck. I couldn't really tell what was going on, but Darla's position sure seemed to suggest she was doing breast work. It wasn't until one of them said something that made them both crack up that she noticed I had walked in. I had kept my position next to the door as I really didn't know how the only guy in the place was supposed to act in a place where at least one woman wasn't wearing a top.

"Hiya, stud," she quipped to me. All three other women turned to look at me at that moment.

"Hey, Darla. I just got your message."

The second artist harrumphed and went back to work, but not before muttering a cryptic, "Snips and snails and puppy dog tails."

"Shut up, 'Bena. Come on in and sit over here, Michael." I motioned to the comfy black chair against the wall about six feet from her workstation. She continued, "Gracie and I are almost done. About another ten minutes. You just have to deal with our girl talk."

I sat down. Gracie was a doe-eyed Latina a few years younger than Darla and me. Maybe 25 or 26? She was cute with a crooked nose and a huge smile. In my mind, she was a sweet girl, but then she intimated to Darla while staring right at me, "New cowboy fuck toy?" She giggled at my expression as I certainly hadn't expected her to say something like that. If I had been in the middle of a drink, I would have definitely done a spit-take.

"Nope. I just blew him last week until he passed out. Now, he's following me around like a puppy dog." She was back at her work before she finished. I was grinning. She was a saucy bitch.

I pulled my cap out of my back pocket, slumped in the chair, and explained to the entire room, "Hey! If I wanted to take this kind of shit, I'd have stayed at work!" All four women reacted with some amount of mirth at some point in this quick exchange. I put the cap over my face and crossed my arms. There was some talking and some laughing. I was probably asleep in thirty seconds. The next thing that registered was a loud noise and something hitting my neck. I sat up. Darla was trying to get my attention.

"What?" I replied.

"Did you go to sleep? That was like five minutes!" Two sets of eyes were looking at me with differing levels of amusement.

"The only good thing I got from the Army," I conceded.

It was Gracie that spoke next, "Come over here, GI Joe, and give us a guy's opinion."

Well, hell yeah! Let's see some tits!

A typical Thursday night in my life...

I walked between the two stations and stood in front of the back wall. Gracie was wearing a button-down shirt with one half still in place and covering her left side. Her right side was bare. She was a curvy girl, though not reaching the chubby or fat point. She was just a solidly built woman displaying a lovely, full breast with a wide, dark areola. There was a stainless barbell through her nice thick, long nipple. Around her areola was a single-color pattern that looked like a sunburst radiating outward. The ink and the piercing were about the sexiest thing I could imagine seeing. I soaked in the image for a few seconds before I spoke.

"That looks great and extremely sexy." I figured I missed something so after a brief pause, I directed my comment to Darla though I couldn't break my stare from Gracie's breast, "Excellent work."

Both women spoke at the same time: Darla chiming in with, "Thanks," and Gracie stirring up a little trouble with, "Are you complimenting Darla or God?" She pulled the other side of her shirt back so I could see both of her breasts and gave me a "come hither" look, replete with parting thighs (pant-clad) and licked lips.