The last thing I expected when I got out of the shower that morning was to see my girlfriend Shelley lying naked on the bed.
"Come here," she said with a grin.
It had been about two months since we'd even so much as touched each other, but I wasn't going to bring that up now. She was lying on the bed, completely naked, and although I didn't really have time, I would take the risk of being late for work.
I was hard by the time I crossed the room, and I knelt between her thighs and leaned over her as she immediately grabbed my cock and rubbed it on her pussy to get me lubed for her. She grabbed my ass and pulled me inside her. She made it perfectly clear that this would be a quickie, and that she wanted it hard. Naturally, I obliged. I was still somewhat in shock when she tossed her head back and moaned my name.
"Oh, Brad, fuck me harder."
I'm never a minute man in the morning, but two months without a woman's touch makes a man do funny things. She felt good. She felt tight and warm. She felt like my wonderful Shelley used to feel three years ago. In just a minute or two I was ready to cum, and I pulled out and covered her belly with my seed, as was our custom.
As I cleaned myself up, I apologized that it was so short. I quickly got myself dressed and ready for work - it looked like I wouldn't be late. I continued with my apologies, intermingled with exasperated thank yous while I waited for my coffee.
"I love you, Shelley," I said as I kissed her goodbye.
When I came home from work that day, there was a note on the kitchen counter.
"
Brad, thank you for the last three years, but I'm sure you agree with me that it's time to move on. I'm moving back to my parents place in Scarborough for now, and all of my stuff is already there. I'm sorry to do this in such a fashion, but it's the best I can manage.
Sincerely, Shelley
"
I became broken. By rights I should have seen it coming, but I was so hopeful that we'd work it out that I had become wilfully blind. After three and a half years together, the spark was gone, the sex was boring and infrequent, and we were spending most of our evenings and weekends apart. I don't think she cheated on me, but I had guessed that she was maybe having feelings for other men. I never got to that point myself, mostly because I'm too stubborn to admit that I was going to lose her.
The date she moved out was March 28
th
. I didn't leave the house for anything but work and basic groceries until the end of April. I told my friends I was too busy with work to do anything, or I was sick (which was half true, although it was likely just plain laziness and lack of stimulation that caused it), or I had family over. Always an excuse to get them off my case for a while.
After spending a month essentially all by myself, I had exhausted everything of interest on Netflix. Even the stuff not of interest on Netflix. It finally occurred to me that Shelley was gone for good, and that I had to move on. Looking around my condo apartment, it was pretty gross. I had slept mostly on the couch in front of the TV, I hadn't recycled, done dishes, or even really opened the curtains. I spent an entire day cleaning and basking in the limited natural light that my fourth floor unit allowed. I swore I wouldn't lie down on the couch, get fast food takeout, or turn on the TV. It was time to get back to the man I was before I met Shelley in October 2010.
I had been about to turn 25 when I got my first job as a Customer Care Representative for the Ministry of Health in Toronto. That was what a History degree from the University of Toronto got me. Sure, I could have become a teacher or used the degree as a platform in to law, but I was tired of education. I wanted to earn money, not increase my student loans. The student life was no longer for me, and I felt like I was ready for predictability and responsibility. I applied for as many government jobs as I could, and this was where I ended up. It was ok money to start, and after three years I had moved up four pay grades and saved enough to buy a 1000 square foot condo only 20 minutes from work. I was happy to not be wasting money on rent, but it wasn't fancy.
The fourth floor meant I had a view of nothing, but it was mine. The bonus, though, was my real estate agent, Shelley McFarland. She was the cousin of a friend of a friend, and had been a realtor for only three weeks. I knew little about the real estate market, but I figured a brand new agent would work hard for me, and definitely could use the money. I have no interest in making the rich agents even richer. She showed me four or five places in two days, and not only did I find the right condo, I felt like I found the right woman. The day that the deal went firm was our first date: she took me out for drinks to celebrate. I ended up at her place that night and probably lost ten pounds over the next 24 hours just from having sex. Six months later she moved in with me.
We never had a crazy kinky sex life, but the first year we fucked at least three times a week. It was usually pretty vanilla, unless she got drunk. She could suck dick for an hour if she was drunk enough, but never while sober, and she never swallowed. She usually liked missionary only, and rarely anything rougher than a gentle nipple pinch. One day I bought her a little vibrator bullet and got her to use it while she was completely shitfaced drunk. She used it on her clit while I fucked her - it was probably the kinkiest thing we ever did. She was so drunk though that she barely remembered, and was too embarrassed to ever do it again.
Eventually, her schedule as a real estate agent versus my schedule as a day jobber drove us apart. Or maybe we just weren't right for each other, and the mismatched scheduled magnified the cracks in our relationship. I always felt she spent too much time on her job and not with me, and she felt I was demanding and selfish. I wanted more kink in our sexual relationship, she told me I was perverted. It went on from there, until she finally decided she needed to move on.
My heartbreak was more for the loss of a lover and companion than it was about Shelley McFarland herself. But, after a month getting over it, it was time to move on. My apartment was cleaned, my mental cobwebs had been cleared, and holy fuck was I horny. As I thought about the immediate future, I realized that I really didn't want a girlfriend again right away. I needed some time to myself as a functioning social person, but I could really use a good fuck. I never liked the bar scene or trying to pick up random chicks, so I thought I'd try the Internet route. It had worked a few times in university, producing a few good memories and one decent girlfriend, but things had changed a lot since then. I looked around a few dating sites and found they weren't great for random hookups (too many guys like me trying to do the same thing), and Tinder seemed too ... well, I felt too old or too unhip for Tinder. Without wanting to spend money on a hook up site that was mostly filled with fake profiles, I figured I'd try my luck on a craigslist ad in the 'casual encounters' section. I expected very little from it, but it seemed worth a shot for minimal effort.
"
Single professional male in downtown Toronto is looking for an attractive 25 - 35 year old female to meet this weekend for a drink and ... who knows? Prefer something no strings attached, but not much in the way of rules beyond that. I'm 28, professional, 5'10", brown hair, clean shaven, fit(ish) and ... well ... it's been a while. I'm not picky about things like race, body type, etc., other than I'd like to meet someone who is comfortable in their own skin and gainfully employed."
I took a selfie, hoped I didn't look too ridiculous, and posted it. The responses I got were certainly from professional women, but I was confident that I didn't need to pay for sex at this point. I had a few offers from dudes too, but again, not that desperate. Such is Craigslist. But I did get one response that caught my eye.
"Hey, so this is kinda weird as I've never replied to an ad on here, but we might be neighbours. At least I think so. Without revealing too much, I live in a condo on Yonge Street. Do you?"
I was actually pretty doubtful that I'd get a response from a real woman at this point, but this seemed legit. Hopefully it turned out to be a real, honest-to-goodness woman with an actual legitimate vagina who didn't charge by the hour.
"
Hey! Yes I do. Are we in the same building? Could you send a picture? Please tell me you aren't looking for a client ... not interested in paying for companionship
J
"