"I wonder if Matt remembers that night?" Jen thought to herself as her fingers slipped inside her knickers. "That night I was fucked by another guy, while Matt was in the room next door?"
Matt was downstairs on his computer, working. Jen was upstairs on the bed, wanking. She had been with Matt for over a decade, since they'd met at university. They were still great friends, but the sex had fizzled out years ago. He was always too busy or too tired. So she found herself frequently in this position, horny, alone in the bedroom, wishing she was in another position, with Matt's cock inside her, but having to make do with her hand, her fingers, her fantasies, her memories.
That particular night was featuring quite frequently at the moment. A party at her place, a few weeks after she'd first met Matt. A two-storey house in the suburbs that she shared with five friends: three girls, two guys. She couldn't remember what the party had been for, but she remembered the night very well. Jen closed her eyes and slid her fingers into her cunt.
***************
Jen had been single for a while. A few on-off flings, but nothing serious. Matt intrigued her - a smart guy, slim and bespectacled, often quite serious, but with a knack for making her laugh. She knew he'd be there that night, and she wanted to test the waters. See if he'd bite, so to speak.
She'd planned it quite carefully. Had her hair cut and dyed a couple of days before: dark red-brown, quite short, showing off her neck and shoulders. She knew the right outfit too: the underwear, the skirt, the top.
Late afternoon on the day of the party and Jen was in the mood. She spent an age in the shower, getting clean for getting dirty, not sure if she was washing or wanking, enjoying her hands idly roaming across her soapy arse, her slippery fingers exploring her cunt, but somehow resisting the temptation to actually come. Hopefully, that would happen later.
Post-shower, getting dressed was a performance too, if only for herself. Cherry red, bum-hugging, lacy shorts, a matching bra; admiring herself in the mirror. Then a tight-fitting, plunging, short-sleeved pale green top, a slightly flouncy, dark green, calf-length skirt. All finished off with ankle-high black boots. It wasn't often Jen felt like this, but she knew she looked good.
This was confirmed almost as soon as she left her bedroom and walked the short distance to the kitchen.
"Fuck me, Jen," said her housemate, Nicky, who was eating pizza at the table. "You look amazing!"
"Thanks, hun," grinned Jen, slightly coyly, as she opened the fridge door, grabbed her first drink of the night, and sat down opposite Nicky.
"Anyone special in mind?" Nicky asked, as Jen leant across to steal a slice of pizza.
"Maybe," Jen replied. "Let's see what happens."
An hour and a half later and the party was warming up. Plenty of people in the kitchen, as you'd expect. A fair few in the front room, where the music was playing; others milling about in corridors, stuck in conversational traffic.
The doorbell rang, and Jen was nearest, so she walked down and opened the door. It was Matt, and a trio of his friends - two she didn't much care for, and a third she didn't know. "Come in," she said, and reciprocated his half-smile in what she hoped was a knowing look, but might just have made her look like she was already half-cut, which, to be fair, she was.
Jen's social confidence was often a facade built on rapid consumption of cider or vodka, and tonight was no exception. A large bottle of the former and two double shots of the latter, and she was away. Dancing, flirting, laughing, strutting.
The difference that evening was that her drunken confidence was underpinned by something real. She *knew* she looked good, she *knew* Matt fancied her, and she *knew* something would happen. She moved differently when he was around, trying to be somehow coy while offering herself to him, feeling her knickers riding up into her arse as she danced, and hoping he could sense that they were his to remove.
And then it all seemed so close to actually happening. The front room - the music room - had briefly cleared a little. Everyone had gone to the kitchen for more drink, and suddenly there were only half a dozen people dancing, and it was one of Jen's favourite songs, and then Matt tried to change the record!
The CD player was at shin level, and he bent down to press eject. Realising too late what he was about to do, Jen almost leapt on him, trying to stop him, and failing. But in doing so, she half-accidentally knocked him to the floor, and wrested back control of the music, and put her track back on.
From his prostrate position, Matt grabbed Jen round the waist, and pulled her onto the ground, laughing, and rolled her roughly to one side, just to try and get his preferred music playing. And so it went on, for perhaps a couple of minutes, a ridiculous tete-a-tete over two indie rock tracks.
And then Jen's housemate Nicky piled in, and Matt's mate Chris, who wasn't bad-looking either, started helping him and it was a kind of wrestling disco, and at one point Matt briefly but unequivocally placed his hand on Jen's arse, and surely this was now foreplay.
And then they were sitting side-by-side on the floor, and Matt said "I'm just off to grab another drink. Don't go anywhere," and Jen assured him she wouldn't. So he wandered off and Jen sat there, grinning to herself, thinking it was only a matter of moments before he'd return, and they'd make small talk for a while, and pause, and look at each other, and she'd lean in to kiss him, and that would be that.
