It had been two weeks since my girlfriend decided to move out when her friend came to the door. I was happy to see her--though S. knew her first, she had become a mutual friend and, circumstances being what they were, I of course hadn't seen her in sometime.
"B.!" I said. There was that brief awkward moment where neither of us were sure whether to shake hands or hug and in the end we did neither.
"Hi, P."
I can't deny that there was a strange sort of punch-to-the-gut feeling seeing her here. Hurt by association.
"How've you been?" I asked.
"Oh... good." She seemed a bit nervous. Distracted. "S. asked me to come by and pick up some stuff."
Again that punch to the gut. I was smiling, of course, the way one always does when faced with a gorgeous girl. I didn't know many people out here, and I'd missed seeing B. and other mutual friends as much as I missed S. But the smile suddenly felt false and I self-consciously became aware of the twitching in my cheek muscles. I was scared that I was burning up, so I stepped quickly to the side and said, "Sure, come in."
B. went to the front closet and found one of S.'s bags. I followed her into the bedroom where she began picking things off the top of the dresser. Earrings, hair ties. There was no clear system to what she took, and I wondered how specific S.'s request had been.
We didn't talk. I stood in the doorway while she went through our clothes drawers, one by one. When she took S.'s sexiest underwear--nothing fancy, just a few low-cut lacy bras and some matching panties--I had to sit down on the edge of the bed. I really felt my cheeks quivering now and my heart started racing. I felt I might faint and wished that she would leave so I could lie down.
B. was standing a few feet in front of me and, to be honest, looked hot. She was wearing a black top that hugged her sides and a pair of plain jeans. But she had a body to die for, especially now, bent over to get something from that last drawer. This was a problem of mine, mixing sex with other emotions. S. and I would be in an argument, screaming--or maybe one of us would be crying because something terrible had happened--and I'd suddenly want to fuck. I remember once, before we moved in together, she was over and we were fighting about something or other. And she ran out of the apartment then and was going to get in the car--my car, actually, which she had a key to--and I caught her just before she got in the driver's-side door.
The driveway was really an alley between our building and the next, but it was the middle of the day--September, I think--and it was wide enough that we were quite exposed. But when I caught her and wrapped my arms around her, I couldn't help getting hard. Kissing the side of her neck slowly turned into sucking on the bottom of her ear. And that turned into real making-out suddenly, our tongues in each other's mouths, her hands against my chest, I'm touching her cheeks and ears and hair. And we are not the kind of couple that does public displays of affection at all--even when I take a long business trip the real goodbye is at home or in the car and it's a quick hug and a peck on the lips when it comes to the actual goodbye on the airport curb--but we are both hungry for it now. I push her against the side of the house and thrust my hardness between her legs. We keep breaking the kiss and gasping--panting really--before getting into it again. She moves to wrap her legs around me; I grab her ass and I'm actually pushing her up the wall with each thrust against her crotch. She's moaning inside my mouth and starts to play with my nipples through my shirt. It has been years since we dry-humped and I feel like I'm going to cum in my pants.
S. is wearing a skirt and a t-shirt. I'm actually right up against her panties and I think I can feel that they're wet--I can feel, anyway, the heat coming from between her legs. She pulls her mouth an inch away. Her breath hot on my face. Panting. I have her so tight against the wall that she's actually looking down at me slightly. "Fuck me," she breathes, "like this." I think I moan out loud before kissing her hard again. This is not us, outside the house, in public. But we're oblivious. I snake my left hand up her shirt and find her breast--she never wears a bra--and squeeze it. My other hand is squeezing her asscheek, my fingertips reaching around into her crack, along the hot and damp edge of her panties, which have ridden up between her cunt lips. We break the kiss again and again I moan out loud. My little finger is just barely working its way into her cunt, my middle finger pushing her panties up against her asshole. "Fuck me," she says, and looks me straight in the eye. "Right here."
I slide my hand down off her breast and along her tight belly. I grab the bottom corner of her shirt and pull it up to her shoulder. Holy fuck, her bare tit is completely exposed right here in the driveway. Her nipple is like a rock, and I pinch it between two of my fingers. She moans into my mouth and I think she might be cumming. I'm on edge. But then she grabs my hand with hers and pushes it off of her. Pulls down her shirt and pushes me away. She looks around us surreptitiously. And then we're both blushing with half-smiles. There's no one on the street, but what if! What if the neighbors were looking out their windows? "Come on," she says, "Inside."
All this is not to say that I was thinking of fucking B. right there in front of the dresser. Certainly not consciously. But I was overcome with this emotion (heartbreak?) and felt like I needed human touch. Her touch, maybe--my chest tingled where it would press against her, even for the briefest friendly hug. But then she left the bedroom without looking back at me and went down the hall to the bathroom. I followed her and stood in the doorway. It was a small bathroom so she was literally just inches from me. I could smell her. She was going through the medicine cabinet, taking things seemingly at random and putting them in S.'s bag. When I felt her turning toward me I stepped back out of the doorway and she went to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard--the one where we kept the glasses--and pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat in it. I could not imagine what S. wanted from the kitchen but, instead of taking anything, B. filled a glass at the tap and took a sip from it. She put it down on the counter and turned to face me, leaning back against the counter with her hands on its edge. Her breasts were sticking out; her tight shirt had snaps up the front but was open enough to give a hint of cleavage. I had never been much of a breast man--S.'s were average size or below and I thought they were perfect--but B.'s were huge. I tried not to look.
"Hey," she said then, as if we were seeing each other for the first time. "How's it going?"
"Good." I looked around the room a bit helplessly. "Well, no, not good. But okay. I guess." We made some small talk, which was actually quite painful--I knew B. well but we were both trying to avoid the obvious topic. Finally she finished her water and put the empty glass in the sink. I thought she was going to leave but she took a few slow steps straight toward me.
"P., I'm really sorry that S. decided to move out."
Butterflies.
"It's--it's not your fault." I half-smiled. She was standing almost over me now. She looked straight down and smiled back, almost shyly.
"You know, it's really not your fault either." My heart was pounding. "You've always been a great boyfriend to her." And then she bent over slightly and kissed me dead on the lips. It was not a slow and seductive kiss, nor was it hot and passionate. It was just a kiss. Her lips were against mine-- slightly below mine, actually--for a warm moment, and then she straightened up again. I didn't know what was happening and I thought she might leave then. But she stood there.
"B.--," I said. She bent over and kissed me again. I think she may have been as nervous as me.
This kiss lasted longer and she had to put put her hands on my shoulders for balance. She caught my bottom lip in her mouth and then opened hers slightly. We began to tilt our heads slowly into a true kiss. But then she stood straight up again. Looking down at me. Again, almost shy. I saw S., then, standing in the driveway that day, her clothes disheveled, her face flushed, embarrassed. And then B. was back, over me. Her firm tits inches from my face.
"I've seen the way you look at me." Her voice was just slightly shaky but I could hear it gaining confidence.
"B., I--" I don't know what I was going to say next. That I didn't look at her? That we shouldn't do anything? I was conflicted. I wanted it then, of course, I could feel myself getting stiff the second she first leaned toward me. But I wanted S., too. I wanted to get back together with S. and didn't want to compromise that. And, even if S. was gone B., and I shouldn't do anything--they were living together now for Christ's sake.
"You know you can have me."
"B."
"You can have anything you want."
"We--"
