Deeper

"Deeper."

"Ummph, Oomph. Like that?"

"Deeper. Please, deeper."

"Well, fine. A little KY, my dear, and now. Ummph, how's that?"

"Oh, fucking shit!"

"Oomph, oomph, ummph."

"Piss-damn, Mother Fucker. Oh, that's so good. Is that all eleven inches?"

"Yes."

"I am so glad I bought that cock for the strap-on. Keep pushing in me. Oh, fuck, that feels so, so good."

I happen to like using this eleven-inch silicone flexible cock on you much more than the old seven-inch one. The heat of your orgasm is evident to anyone within hearing distance. The vulgar words streamed together in unique and deplorable order, causes involuntary arousal of all adults over 18 years old.

As I was pushing and withdrawing from the soaked and slimy, yet clean and hairy, swollen barriers to your sex, the motion of your hips became almost frantic and urgent. As usual, I purposely did not keep the same rhythm. Your rising frustration to achieve another orgasm mounted at a steady pace.

We had done this 'ride' before in our cycle of sexual games and play. Each time we did, of course, the nasty and slutty behavior became more and more dangerous, vulgar, dirty, and filthy.

What has turned into 'We,' had begun one time when on dates, each with someone else. A cocktail table shared as strangers, in a smoky dark bar, my hand on you and yours on me. It turned out that we both split up with those two partners within a couple of months.

When living in a big city, there is certain anonymity due to the sheer numbers of human encounters as you move about the streets. However, there is also a close-knit neighborhood in nearly every way for each person. They frequent the same series of businesses, clubs, and stores, etc. So that we saw each other again among four million people wasn't actually that surprising. What still is surprising to me is that when we again met, you were sitting at the same table in the same position. I had been in this bar four times before our meeting, and never again until we met again. It was as though you had never left.

Wearing the same clothes, you were alone with a half-full glass. I smiled, and after greetings were exchanged, we agreed to me joining you. We visited until the music started when we were drowned out and stepped outside.

Once outside, we both were awkwardly mumbling about what to do next when I heard you say, "Come to my house and come."

I replied, "Is it far? I live very close."

"About a block-and-a-half north."

"Well then, let's go."

And off we went talking like old friends. We walked three blocks north and four blocks east. My apartment was in the same building you entered to ride the elevator to the twelfth floor. My apartment is on the twelfth floor. I am frantically playing back our conversation because I didn't think I told you where I live. I was distracted with that thought when you said, "I moved here about four weeks ago and immediately left town. I am returning tonight for only the second night. The building doesn't yet seem like home, but it definitely has what it will take. Come, my apartment is right over here."

As we walked past my door, I had the feeling I was being tested, but not by you. I imagine it feels like that to have someone study you intently for your entire day, writing notes and dictating in a muffled voice to a small recorder. The hallway went to the far end of the floor, made a second turn, and ended at an apartment door.

We became fucking friends within fifteen minutes, and here we are forty years later, again doing what we did all those years ago. We eventually had a night that found our limits. You were blindfolded, and I was to bring a total stranger to the apartment to take my place. The stranger, as it turned out, was as kinky as our lust.

He had, in turn, convinced me to be blindfolded, also. As soon as I was blindfolded, the stranger tied me up and tied you up, then he burgled the apartment. The stranger took our money, ransacked the apartment, and then put on a mask that covered his head and shoulders and looked like a rubber Frankenstein head and upper body.

Frankenstein forced each of us to kiss each other, and eventually, he had us do a sixty-nine. Then he watched the two of us take a shower while he jerked off in the bathroom sink. When he came, he shouted, "Oh, Hilly!"

Immediately he left while we were standing in the shower looking through the glass shower door. He forgot the loot, and money, as the apartment door locked when it closed behind him.

Epilogue:

We are happy to be safe. We decided to stop taking chances. Now we again fuck like before. We had such fun for all of those years.

I am old and no longer even visible to the young people on the streets. They slide in and out of the multitude, and I have to weave defensively on the sidewalks. As I do with the technology, that is assimilated into their lives without caution.

"Hilly" is still a mystery today.