Pandemic Party

These are strange times indeed. As beautiful Italy is dealing with the pandemic, the likes of which none of us have seen in our lifetime, it's a time for self reflection and contemplation. As of this writing, March 19, 2020, the media says we are two weeks behind Italy in the severity of the pandemic, and I'm sheltering in place. This whole experience brings up the question, "What would you do if you know the world is going to end?" Is death inevitable from this disease that shreds human lungs? With the self-isolation happening, there is plenty of time to think these big thoughts.

But let's back up about a week. A week ago, when self-isolation was only a recommendation, I admit, I was pretty much going about my business as normal. I had dinner on Friday night and the restaurant was eerily empty. At that point, I decided I should self-isolate. I still wasn't too worried -- but looked at the isolation time as an opportunity to let my inner introvert soar with books and art projects that are overdue.

On Sunday, I was contacted by the Trainer. Trainer is a friend with benefits, who has always been delightful and fun. With his job as a personal trainer, he's busy, and I'm always busy so we hadn't seen each other in almost a year. He's a very interesting friend for me, and somewhat unusual. He's 20 years younger than me, in his mid 30's. He has the most perfect body of any male I have ever been intimate with, and that's a decent number of male bodies for comparison. He's handsome, witty, smart, and has a perfect smile. I would sometimes wonder why this beautiful young man would want to hang out with me -- but that thinking has definitely changed to why wouldn't he want to hang out with me?! With our mutual love of Game of Thrones, The Sopranos, liberal politics, and current events, he, with his old soul, and me, with my young one are actually a comfortable match. I think very highly of Trainer in many ways.

He tells me all his training sessions have been cancelled the next day, so he comes over to my place around 11pm. He's as cute as I remembered, and he's toting a Twin Peaks lunch box. Pleasantries are exchanged, and now it's time to have some fun. He opens the box and it's filled with all the accoutrements of smoking the herb. Smoking pot, or smoking anything is really not my thing, and I'm a neophyte for sure. But it feels like the world is ending, and for once, I'm jumping into the party full force. Drugs, check.

We start smoking, and in his gentle and kind manner, he's coaching me on proper technique, length of draw, all the things that one should do. I'm obedient, and follow his smoke rules, while he is happily giving me too much info about the use of hemp string, and don't lean over with my long hair -- all kinds of useful tips. Trainer and I are starting to feel the pleasant buzz, and it's nice. But wait! We're getting thirsty and we'd like a beverage. Now we're in my area of expertise. I have a nice bottle of Absinthe, saved for a special occasion. I make this suggestion to Trainer, and simultaneously, we both think this is an excellent idea. Because it is an excellent idea! Drugs, check. Alcohol, check.

Trainer follows me into the kitchen, where I get the bottle and I also have an old-fashioned reproduction absinthe glass, along with the slotted spoon and sugar cubes! I have all the liquor paraphenalia, and we are in business! I pour the olive colored liquid to the top of the lines, etched in the glass, and put the spoon over the top of the glass with a single sugar cube. I grab another glass to fill with ice water, and attempt to drizzle over the cube, but my motor skills are a bit off, and I just pour the water quickly. Unfortunately, I broke the glass I used to pour the water -- my favorite Ringo Starr glass. I'm sad for about 1 second, but other things are pre-occupying my mind.

The absinthe begins to louche, and with a stir of the slotted spoon, we each take a long drink and it's delicious. We kiss and that's delicious too. We return to the living room for a few more puffs, but I've had enough. We finish off our absinthe, and it's a great idea make another glass, so somehow, that magically happens and we're drinking again. It's time to complete our trifecta of debauchery. Drugs, check. Alcohol, check. Sex, check.

This is the never ending night, and we head into my bedroom. Again, this part of our end-of-the-world night, is a bit hazy -- please bear with me as I try to reconstruct the events that happened in my bedroom. The first thing I recall, is we're both naked, and Trainer is going down on me in the most fantastic and enthusiastic manner. I don't remember him ever doing this before, but I totally don't care because what's happening at this instant with my brain and body is unbelievable. He's licking me expertly -- around my clit, in and on my labia, fingers are being inserted, and he's bringing me home to the little death, as I shudder in a huge orgasm. He comes up for air, and it's apparent I've ejaculated and the bed is quite wet, but nobody cares. He starts pumping me with the vigor and enthusiasm of a perfectly physically fit man, 20 years younger than me. It's utterly fantastic. At one point, he was on top of me, and I remember grabbing his tight small ass and being amazed by it's perfection. His skin is soft and beautiful, he's hairless, and so, so good in every way.

At a natural breaking point, he hops out of bed and gets glasses of water because both of us need to remain hydrated. I make a half-hearted attempt to get a towel for the bed, but it's completely useless, and we immediately discard it as we prepare for round two. Which begins with him licking me again, and having a second orgasm, along with another ejaculate squirt on the already wet bed. A second orgasm usually doesn't happen for me, as I tend to be a one-and-done gal. But not when I'm having sex with Trainer at the end of the world! The fucking continues and he ejaculates so hard in me, I can feel his cock pulsing inside my vagina. Nobody knows what time it is, but at this point, both of us are passing out. The room is still dark and the bed is soaked.

We both fall asleep, but we're not sure how long. It appears to be what I call, the witching hour. That early morning time when a man's cock is rock hard. But for me, I'm still asleep. I feel the gentle poke on my backside as Trainer sweetly holds my shoulders. He kisses me on my upper back, and expertly slips his cock inside me from the rear. This feels fantastic, and in my sleep haze, I arch my back for deeper penetration. Trainer is spooned behind me, rhythmically moving in and out, and it feels so good to me, I never want it to end. As some point, I hear his soft moan as he cums in me again and pushes hard into me. We both sleep some more.

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and now I'm awake. I look over at Trainer and his shoulders, down to his waist are a perfect triangle of beautiful skin. His dark hair is tousled, and he's starting to stir as well. Some sweet, morning cuddling happens as he kisses my forehead and asks the obvious question, "Do you have any Advil?" Why yes, I do.

As we both peeled ourselves out of bed, it's unbelievable that it's 11am. My home looks like what I imagine a frat house looks like after a party. Bottles of alcohol, pot in the living room, a dirty bong, empty packages of cookies, beef jerky and almonds. Apparently we had a food binge in the middle of the night too! There was the broken Ringo glass, and the bed was trashed in wet sexiness from both of us.

I imagine this is probably a weekly scenario for many people, but I've never participated in a party to this level, and I'm so glad I did. I always tend to regret the things that I don't do, as opposed to what I do, do. This was a fantastic time, I have the headache and after sex soreness to prove it. Now that we're ordered to shelter in place, fun like this won't be happening for awhile. Thank you to Trainer for being so fun and safe, and taking me somewhere I really hadn't been. Hopefully, the Pandemic will pass soon, and there will be more parties in the future.