Kira Kesey
________
Work was a bitch today.
Once I got home, I took my shoes and socks off, peeled off my bra and work clothes and immediately hit the shower.
The hot water felt good all over my sore body, and it didn't help that I still had four more days to go on this twelve-day stretch.
Hell, I was even too tired to rub one out while I was in there like I normally did.
I got out of the shower and toweled off, then went into my bedroom and to my dresser. I found my favorite pair of yoga pants and a black tank, slipped them on and lay down on my bed and on my side with a sigh.
I looked to the cordless on my nightstand and immediately thought of Jack again. I'd not seen him in a year since he'd been with Daffney.
I'd wondered how he'd been since that night I left. He'd not called or even stopped by, and I guess I missed him.
Okay... I REALLY missed him.
I'd even driven by his workplace and even went in the store where he'd been for five years and looked for him.
But he wasn't there, and his supervisor had informed me he'd quit one day.
I'd drive around our old hangouts- Ziggy's bar, Hintermeister Park, even a few of his favorite book stores and coffee shops.
I even checked the dam.
But, no Jack.
Then one day I came across something.
While in Dixie Deli, I saw the magazine rack that held copies of something called Bowling Stoned Ink.
It was marketed for stoners, and while flipping through it I stumbled upon an article he'd written.
I wasn't even on the third line that I was already cracking the fuck up!
Jack had finally made it from the looks of it. I bought the magazine and left that day, tempted then to go to his apartment.
And that same day, I did.
I'd gotten there, parked in my usual spot.
His car would sometimes be there, sometimes not.
I'd look up to his apartment window, and every time his shades would be drawn.
I even went up to his very door and stood there, wanting so badly to knock on the door. But I chickened out.
I stared at the phone now, wanting to call him.
But instead I fell asleep while staring at the phone, the courage leaving my body as sleep overtook me.
***
I woke up the next hour and out of a deep sleep.
I groaned, squinting beneath the bedroom light. I felt the thick line of drool that had run out of the corner of my mouth.
I'd realized also that I had both feet hanging off the side of the bed.
I climbed out of bed, wiping off the corner of my mouth, then looked at the time on my alarm clock.
Half past midnight.
Jesus.
I went up to the dresser mirror, looking st my reflection.
I'd made some little changes here and there with myself during my time away.
I'd lost a little weight, going from 180 to a comfy 155. I'd dyed my hair to a copper color with black streaks criss-crossing about my head and bangs, and kept the length (just touching my shoulders).
I'd taken out my septum, opting for a tiny metal stud in my nose, and had a few new tatts added to my body; one on my forearm, a little one on the surface of my left tit and one around my left ankle.
I was still a little thick in my thigh and ass region, and my tits had shrunk a little from my weight loss. But at least my back felt better nowadays.
As far as men went, I had a fling with one guy a month after Jack left, but nothing serious.
He'd turned out to be the guy wanting side action when his lady wasn't giving him so much as a kiss in weeks.
Of course, it "slipped his mind" to inform me of his main girl, as he was so infatuated by "my natural beauty and spunky personality".
Tch, sure.
He just wanted to get his cock wet.
This was all the more confirmed when I once I rang him up one day and his girl herself answered.
I hung up and cut ties with him without so much as a word not even seconds later.
He never bothered me again.
The real connection wasn't there, anyway, and now being 30 years old as of this February, I'd really taken a good look at my not so good habits after that in my romantic life.
When you realize you'd become quite slutty, it's hard looking in the mirror at times and at yourself.
But I had to.
So, I began to up my standards with myself, while learning to both forgive and love myself along the way.
Now... with the other two boys.
One guy I'd met while at work was nice, and we struck up a conversation one night during thirds.
He was cute, funny and even was single for real.
He'd began to pay me all sorts of compliments on everything from my eyes, my voice, my laugh, even to my hair. While it was nice being noticed and after two dates out, by the second month of knowing him was when the cracks began to form.
He also started to show me what he was really after (which was to get in my pants).
I then learned of his kinks, his main one being that he'd wanted me to take part in domestic discipline, and that wasn't my thing.
The second one I'd met at Ziggy's who'd just moved to town.
He had Jack vibes, so of course I was drawn in.
We began meeting every Friday night, and after a month or so we began chatting on the phone during the week.
Little by little, though, the red flags slowly popped up.
He had became a little too obsessive with me, and I had to cut ties right away when he began being a little pushy with having sex with me.
He always wanted to know where I was and what I was doing, not to mention whom I was "doing it" with (which was literally with nobody).
He was out on his ass within a week.
I found also that I wasn't as much into girls anymore as I had been.
Daffney was the reason for that.
I loved dick a lot more, anyway.
Jack's cock, especially...
I giggled, thinking about him now, feeling my cheeks flush warmly as I looked to my bed and recalled that night we'd had sex.
He still was the best I'd ever had...
His girth, his length... the warmth of his body, the way he whispered spicy nothings in my ear.
It made me wet still in how he made love to me.
But Jack was the type to fuck you raw as well. He knew my body so well, what I liked... what lines not to cross...
everything.
...and yeah, it's safe to say I still had feelings for him that I could never ignore.
It wasn't just the sex that I still loved about him.
I felt safe and secure in him.
I missed all of him, really...
His voice, his warmth, his gentleness with me, everything.
Even the cute little freckle that was on the tip of his cock. Every last little quirk, too.
The way he'd just speak bluntly in that soft, calm tone, even when he was upset.
But he was off the market... and that was the hardest part- acceptance.
I lay back down on my bed and on my back, closing my eyes and smiling as I thought of him simply palming my assets, and the warmth of his hands alone caused me to begin sliding down my pants to my ankles.
I immediately began to masturbate, thinking of Jack fucking me senseless now.
It didn't take long for me to cum, and I squirted BIG time as I imagined him fucking me hard and slow... making love to me...
whispering my name in my ear... his hot load filling me up...
I came down from my o, then pulled my pants back up over my ass before I got up and found a dry towel to lay on my puddle.
I then packed a bowl and smoked it, watching the time. I'd have to get up in four hours.
I sighed, rolling my eyes.
Fucking work.
I cut a sharp scream then as I heard banging on the front door of my apartment.
I quickly padded to the door after setting my bowl down, grabbing my handgun on the way.
I peered out the peephole and saw a person in all black, head bowed and mumbling to themselves.
I waited until they raised their face, and when they finally did, I about dropped my gun onto my foot...
There, on the other side, his eyes bloodshot and an unkempt beard on his face, was Jack.
I set the gun down on the shelf, then quickly opened the door
Jack's face lit up and he belted out with arms outstretched: "KIRAAAAAA!"
I waved a hand and glared at him, but couldn't suppress a smile from seeing him. "Get in here..."
Jack giggled, and I could smell the bourbon on his breath as he laughed.
He was drunk.
Bourbon drunk.
Jack tended to be very unpredictable when he had had a few of bourbon.
I helped him to the couch after quickly shutting the door and locking it, then walked into the kitchen to get him some water while he was laughing in the other room to himself.
I gave him the glass of water, but he looked up at me and gestured in frustration to his glass, his once-pretty puppy dog eyes now looking... not like him at all.
I stood in front of him, arms crossed over my chest and nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the next, watching him in silence.
I was so many emotions in one: pissed, concerned and happy.
It basically felt like I was on my period.
"The fuck, no drink??" Jack scowled, tossing the water out of the glass and onto my carpet. He slammed the glass down on my coffee table, shaking it.
I had enough already.
"JACKSON... PARKER... WILSON..." I hissed in a low voice, pointing my finger at him. "Do NOT fuck with ME right now, you GOT it??"
He just stared at me, then tried to yell at me again.
But I stepped forward and got down into his face. His hand slowly tried to touch my face, but I swatted his hand away, my face now disgusted in its gaze toward him.
"DON'T. FUCKIN'. TOUCH. ME. You ARE NOT acting like a gentleman..." I said quietly. "Where's JACK at?? The REAL Jack? 'Cause he's not here right now..."
"Kira.." Jack said, chuckling as he shook his head. "D-don't say that..."
"Don't fuckin' start."
I yanked the glass off of the table, still gazing at him in my ironlike gaze. Without a word, I went into the kitchen and got him another glass of water.
I was SO pissed off with him, because I knew he wasn't acting like himself. I'd never seen him get this far gone and it worried me.
I returned not even a few seconds later.
"Now..." I said, even in my tone. "We're gonna try again. I give this to you, you drink it, then you'd better calm your fucking drunk ass down. And I mean RIGHT the fuck NOW. Got me??"
He took the glass after giving me another scowl, a cocky expression following soon after that made me want to slap him.
But I remained as calm as I could, standing above him, impatiently tapping my foot.
Jack saw this and bit his bottom lip, his smile spreading over his face. He then raised his eyes to my cleavage.
"Wow, girl..." he slurred, wobbling to and fro in his seat, his eyes glued to my bare feet. "I LOVE that shade of green on your toenails...."
But I cut him off with one hand. "JACK? DON'T. This is NOT the time."
"Juss sayin', your feet are STILL so fuckin' sexy..." he muttered, his mouth open. His eyes soon wandered up to my tits. "Mmm... and those fucking TITS..."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, sighing in exasperation. I then left the living room to go find my Vans in the bedroom. I slipped them on my feet so he'd have no distractions.
My tits were still spilling out in my top, especially with no bra on. So I threw a hoodie over it, the baggiest one so that my cleavage and volume of my girls weren't even existent.
