First Day Of The Rest Of My Life 1

"What the...??!"

The sunlight streaming through the windshield of my car had woken me up. I was sprawled out in the driver's seat of my car, the seat back fully reclined. I lifted my seat and looked around. How did I get here? And why do I have such an awful headache? My head was pounding.

In a complete panic, I searched for and found my purse. My phone, cash and credit cards were intact. Whew! I also found a bottle of Advil. Wow, I thought to myself, I don't usually carry the whole bottle. I opened the top and swallowed 3 tablets dry. I couldn't bother to wait for water.

I looked around the car for a minute. My dress was all disheveled, covered in hard white stains. It was held closed by only three buttons that weren't even in the right buttonholes. My high heels caked with dirt were on the seat next to me. I then felt squishiness inside me and realized I wasn't wearing any panties. Where were my panties... my fucking panties??? I searched the car for a few minutes and found them tucked into the crack between my seat and the shifter console. I held them up. They were covered in white stains and the crotch had been torn out. Fuck, those were brand new!

I flipped down the visor and looked in the vanity mirror. My makeup was smeared nearly completely off. My face was covered in dry, white streaks. And I could feel more in my hair. I looked down and saw that the top of my dress was just covered in stains. What a mess!

I needed to get my bearings. I saw a McDonald's down the street, so I threw on my big sunglasses, started the car and headed to the drive-thru. It hurt my head just to hear the voice through the intercom, "Would you like to try a value breakfast today?"

The thought of a greasy breakfast sandwich turned my stomach. "No thanks, just a bottled water and a large coffee."

"Would you like a Frappe?" I could barely suffer through the conversation with this stupid metal box.

"No. Coffee. Large. Black. And a bottled water."

I pulled around, picked up my order and pulled into a spot. I needed to figure out what the hell happened and fast. I chugged the bottled water, knowing that the dehydration wasn't helping my headache and the Advil wasn't doing a thing to help, yet. I opened the lid of the coffee and took a long sip. The caffeine began to cut through the fog in my head.

I started to remember yesterday. Yesterday sucked. I had gone to the County Courthouse to finalize my divorce. The divorce settlement was done and child support and custody were taken care of, but I still needed the final decree. My lawyer had gone over the questions that the judge would ask, but I was still nervous. Name. Address. Minor children? All easy. Is the marriage irretrievably broken. Fuck, yes. Did I want my maiden name back? Yes.

And with that I became Lindsey Greene again. Good bye to Lindsey Mann. Goodbye to Mrs. Jeffrey Mann. Goodbye to almost 12 years. Hello to being a divorcee. As we walked out of the courthouse, my lawyer tried to cheer me up, "Lindsey, smile. It's the first day of the rest of your life." I smiled back weakly.

I went home after court and put on my biggest, baggiest sweatshirt and shorts and crawled into bed. I was glad that my mom offered to pick up Gwen and Nicole from elementary school and keep them for the night. I just wanted to be left alone, a quiet night with my TV and some Ben & Jerry's. I laughed. How cliché.

Around 6:30, I was flipping through the channels, when my doorbell rang. I tried to ignore it, figuring that whoever was out there would go away. But the doorbell rang and rang again. Shit, this person was persistent. I got out of bed and stomped my way to the door, ready to tear some delivery guy or kid peddling some fundraiser a new asshole. It was Laurel. I opened the door and let her in.

Laurel is one of my best friends. She's 41 years old and carries an extra 25 pounds that she blames on her husband and three sons. Brassy and loud, Laurel is a total firecracker.

"Get dressed," she cackled. "We're going out."

I sighed, "Thanks, Laurel, but not tonight. I'm drained. I'm too tired to go out" I turned to walk back into the bedroom.

"Shut the fuck up and get dressed!" Laurel was not to be dissuaded. "You get dressed and I'll take care of your tiredness." I watched as she removed the silver tea set from the tray that decorated my dining room table.

"What are you doing with my grandmother's tea set, Laurel?," I asked.

"Setting high tea for the Queen. Seriously, I'm getting you ready to go. After all, this is the first day of the rest of your life," she laughed, removing a small vial from her purse and pouring a bit of fine white powder onto the tray. "Now, go on. And wear something sexy"

I knew I had no chance of getting her to stop, so I turned and went into the bedroom to find clothes. I slipped on a new pair of black lace panties and matching bra and had just decided on a simple black and white dress from J. Crew when I heard Laurel behind me.

"Just so you know, I fucking hate you." I could feel the sarcasm in her voice.

"Huh?"

"You're 36 years old. Free from that piece of shit ex of yours. Two beautiful little girls. And the perfect body. Boy, I don't understand Jeff at all. If I were a guy married to you, I'd keep you chained to the radiator and fuck the shit out of you everyday."

"Thanks... I guess. I'll keep that in mind if you ever get a sex change. Besides, forget Jeff. He was the only guy I ever met that was afraid of blow jobs. Like I might gag on his three-inch cock and bite it off," I laughed. "Do we really have to go out? I so am not in the mood."

"C'mon, let me take care of those blues." Laurel led me out to the dining room table. On the silver tray that had held my tea set were four even lines of white powder. "Remember, it's the first d..."

I cut her off, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. The first day of the rest of my life."

Looking at the tray, I gasped, "Cocaine, Laurel? Seriously? You're like PTA Mom of the Year."

She chuckled, "Unlike you, I still have my needle-dick husband. And I've got three boys who all belong in reform school. With that much testosterone in my house, I'll take whatever help I can get. Besides, how the fuck do you think I made seven dozen Snickerdoodle cookies for the bake sale last fall? Those things were a product of Bolivia, baby." She handed me a rolled $100 bill. "You first. We each get two lines."

I leaned down an inhaled the first line. The tip of my nose went numb instantly and I let out a little cough. "Eww, I can taste the bitterness going down my throat," I complained.

"Like you've never had anything bitter running down your throat," Laurel retorted.

"Fuck you," I laughed. "Hurry up, it's my turn and I've got to finish getting ready or we will never get out of this house." Laurel took her line and handed the bill to me. Better prepared for the rush, I inhaled deeply, making sure that I cleaned my line completely. Wow, I was feeling better already.

I finished dressing and fixing my hair and makeup. I slipped into these gorgeous black high strappy sandals, checked my face one last time in the hallway mirror and said to Laurel, "All set. Let's roll."

"Fine," she said. "I'm driving."

"Why don't I take my own car? Just in case, I'm a total buzzkill."

"OK."

I followed Laurel across town, away from the suburban gated communities, and to the restaurant district. We valet parked in front of Brasserie 305, the hottest new fusion restaurant in town. Inside we met Stacy, Karen and Jenn, friends from the neighborhood, sipping very pink cocktails. So "Sex and the City" of them.

"Happy Divorce!!!!," they all squealed. Stacy let us know that the table would be ready in 20 minutes.

Laurel and I made our way to the bar. "Feeling better?," she asked. I knew she was the one who coordinated the Ladies' Night.

I smiled, "Thanks. Still a little tired, but much, much better. That stuff is awesome."

She smiled back. "That shit is for emergencies only, Sweetie. Tim doesn't make enough for that to be a habit. But I got the perfect thing for you, and it is not one of those Carrie Bradshaw Cosmo-pussy-tinis that those bitches are drinking." She turned and spoke to the bartender who returned with a tall glass of an amber drink with ice. Laurel handed me the glass and took her own glass of wine.

"What is this?," I asked as we walked back to the group.

"Absolut and Red Bull. A double. Now, shut up and drink."

I took a first gulp. "Ewww, that shit is nasty."

"Don't worry, it gets better."

Laurel was right, the drink got better. A lot better. And even better on my second, third or fourth glass. The dinner was a blast. The food was excellent. We took turns between flirting with the handsome waiters and bashing the lousy men in our lives. Now, fueled with two lines of coke and the equivalent of a four-pack of Red Bull, I was awake and raring to go. But as the night went on, the group got smaller and smaller as the women had to return home to their husbands and families.

By eleven-thirty, it was just Laurel and me. Then her phone went off. Tim was texting her, reminding her that the boys all had lacrosse games the next morning. "Fuck!," she moaned. "I need to leave. I forgot that we were going to be at the park all day for the boys' lacrosse games. Let's go."

"Hmmm, maybe I'll stay for one more drink."

"No way, sister. I am not leaving you. I don't want you to end up gang raped on a pool table like Jodie Foster in that movie, whatsitcalled... not on my conscience."

"Pinball machine...," I replied. "Pinball machine..."

"What?"

I leaned over and told her, "Jodie Foster was raped on a pinball machine and the movie was called 'The Accused.' And I don't see any pinball machines around here...."

"Pinball machines... pool tables... Who gives a fuck??! You're leaving."

"OK. OK. OK." And we made our way to the valet stand. Laurel pulled out and then I did. As we approached traffic light at Atlantic Boulevard, I watched Laurel speed through the yellow light. I stopped at the red light. Bye Laurel, I thought.

I continued to head towards home. As I got closer, I decided to stop in a 7-Eleven store for a pack of cigarettes. I hadn't smoked since I was 16, and even then only a handful of times. But, man, a cigarette would be perfect. And who will complain? Jeff? Fuck him. He cannot tell me what to do anymore.

I bought a pack of Marlboro Lights. As I tapped the box, I looked down toward the end of the strip mall. I saw a flashy red neon sign a couple of doors down, "Tricky Dick's Tavern" I thought to myself, I've lived here for 13 years and passed this place a million times, but I never went in. I had heard that it was an off-duty hang out for firefighters and EMTs. A bunch of pick up trucks with firefighter medallions on the license plates confirmed the rumors.

Feeling bold, I walked into the bar. Tricky Dick's wasn't really a biker bar or a dive. It was just a neighborhood bar. Clean with lots of neon beer signs. I took a seat at the bar. I looked around and laughed to myself. No Cosmo-pussy-tinis, as Laurel would say, in here. Everyone was sipping beer, so I ordered a Coors Light. It was nice and cold. A Coors Light and a cigarette. I felt like I was being a bad girl in high school, again.

A pretty blonde girl slid in next to me. "Hi. You waiting for someone?," she asked.

"No. Not really. Just got my divorce final today and figured I would celebrate with a drink."

"Perfect!," she smiled. "Then you can join us. I'm sick of being the only one with boobs at the table. By the way, I'm Becky."

Becky led me back to the corner booth. She introduced me to her boyfriend, Scott, a handsome, young firefighter. Also at the table were Jimmy, an older guy with a bad porno moustache, who I later found out was the department supervisor; Dale, an EMT; and Matty, a baby-faced, young fireman, fresh out of college. I slid into the booth between Jimmy and Dale.

They all were really nice. We talked about my divorce and my ex for a couple of minutes, until Jimmy said "Forget him. And I've got the perfect way to do that." Jimmy jumped from the table and headed to the bar. He returned with six shot glasses filled with a dark reddish-brown liquid and announced, "No better way to forget than with some Jagermeister." The group all groaned. Jimmy announced a toast, "To the first day of the rest of your life!"

One shot became two, then, then three, four, five and six in rapid succession. At some point, Becky and Scott said goodbye, with Becky warning them to take good care of me. It was after three in the morning, but I was still going strong. To its credit, Tricky Dick's was also going strong, too. I like this place, I thought to myself.

After a few more minutes, Jimmy, Dale and Matty traded knowing glances. "What's going on?," I asked, sensing that they were all in on something.

Jimmy responded for the group, "Nothing. We were just wondering how long it takes you gals for 'it' to come back..."

"What is 'it'?," I wanted to know.

Jimmy sighed, "well, you know that married women can't suck dick to save their own lives. You gals know how to do it when you're single. But seem to forget the minute you get married. 'I do' becomes 'I did.'"

I laughed in a pretend rage, "That's not true. I can suck dick very well, thank you."

"Well, darling, prove it."

Visions of Jodie Foster gang-raped on the pinball machine danced in my head. Thanks, Laurel, I thought to myself. "Err... I don't think so. Not right here."

"Well then, little lady come with me. Let me show you to my office." He took my hand and led me to the men's room. Dale and Matty followed. I had only been in a men's room a couple of times. We all went in.

Dale spoke, "Now, Lindsey, if you don't want to do this, it's OK."

I smiled. I did want to do this. I mean, I really, really, really wanted to do this. After 12 years with Jeff and his mini-dick and fear of blow jobs, I was ready. "So, who's first?"

Jimmy grinned broadly, "Age first."

I got down on my knees. The cheap linoleum floor was cold. I unbuckled Jimmy's belt and opened his jeans. I looked up and watch him close his eyes as I slid his boxers down and took his still-soft cock into my mouth. Jimmy was a thin guy with a decent build. He responded with a deep groan when I touched him. I could feel him getting hard as I sucked him, licking his shaft and balls. He got rock hard and began to pump his hips. I sucked him, letting him fuck my face faster and faster. I cupped his balls and flicked my tongue across his head. In no time at all, Jimmy stiffened. He pushed hard into my mouth and came down my throat in a thick, warm, slightly bitter stream. I guess Laurel was right about me swallowing bitter things.

Dale teased Jimmy, "I guess it is true what they say about you firefighters. Firefighters can always cum in a moment."

Jimmy laughed it off. "Fuck you, Dale. This girl is good, really good. Let's see how long you last."

Dale was next. Unlike Jimmy, Dale was big, really big. He wore his hair short with the obligatory manicured chin stubble. His biceps strained at his T-shirt and his massive upper body tapered to a trim waist. As I moved in front of him, I could feel his massive thighs, like solid iron. Dale was a hunk. As he held my head with his tattooed arms, I opened his jeans and pulled down his crisp white Armani briefs. I laughed out loud.

"What's so funny? You know it is never right to laugh when you are pulling out a guy's dick."

"No. No. It's just that with your muscles, stubble, tattoos and Armani undies, it's like I'm giving a blow job to David Beckham."

We all laughed as I took him into my mouth. Dale was already hard and fuck, was he big. Jimmy laughed again, "Shit, it's like she's trying to swallow an anaconda."

I giggled and cleared my throat with a little cough. I could feel their eyes all widening as I opened my mouth and angled my head to accommodate Dale's size. Inch by inch, he slid in. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I pushed the head into my throat, feeling my own neck muscles expand until all nine inches were inside. Dale began to groan.

Matty shouted, "Holy fuck! Did you see that?" Jimmy joined in the laughing and hollering.

Dale was silent, concentrating on fucking my throat. He would withdraw completely and then go in deeply. My jaw ached from being held open so wide, but I didn't care. He smelled good and what a fucking cock! Mmmmmm. Less than 24 hours after my divorce and I am deep throating a cock ten times bigger than Jeff's.

Dale began to pump his hips faster and I could feel him getter harder as the cum was bubbling up inside him. He was breathing harder and harder.

Jimmy knew Dale was getting close and began yelling, "Facial her! Facial her!" over and over in rhythm to Dale's fucking. Dale sped up faster and faster until he pulled out and exploded. Shot after shot. Thick white ropes of cum flying everywhere. On my face, in my hair, on my mouth, in my eye, it was everywhere. I was covered.

"Ahhhh, fuck, it stings!," I screamed, holding my eye shut. "Give me a fucking towel, please!"

I barely finished wiping the gobs of Dale's cum from my face before Matty was shoving his cock in my face. He didn't bother to wait for me to take it out. His pants were down and he was poking his hard, uncut cock in every direction. I grabbed hold of it to calm him and looked up in his eyes. I spit into the palm of my hand and used it to really lube Matty up, pulling his foreskin back and forth. Matty moaned loudly as I worked my fingers around his cock before taking it into my mouth.

I also had become painfully aware that our little party was not so quiet anymore. News of the slut in the bathroom giving blow jobs traveled quickly through the bar. In minutes, a horseshoe of onlookers ringed around where I was kneeling, cheering me on as I sucked Matty's cock. I worked his cock fast and hard, jerking, sucking, and licking. I lifted his cock and balls and licked that small spot between his balls and ass. Matty just whimpered.

As I worked his cock faster and faster, I could feel Matty's orgasm speeding towards me. His legs were trembling as he pulled his cock quickly from my mouth.

In a ragged voice, Matty struggled to mumble, "Her tits. I want to cum on her tits."

I struggled to open my dress quickly, but it was too late. Matt shook hard and shot his load across my chest, covering my dress.

"Arghhhhhh," he groaned as he came.

"You asshole!" I yelled, "What am I supposed to tell the dry cleaner when he sees these stains??! I am covered!"

The crowd laughed as Jimmy shouted back, "Just tell him that you were giving to your local fire department and you gave a little too much!"

One voice broke from the crowd, "Very funny, Jimmy. Maybe she should say she that she was licking pricks at Tricky Dick's when the owner Dick gave everyone the kick. Now, you all get out of my bar!"

It was Dick Stanton, Tricky Dick himself. I knew who he was because his picture was all over the bar. Dick was photographed with beer company models, rock stars, cops, firefighters, and even one of him and Mayor Giuliani after 9-11.

"Sorry, Miss. But you need to leave. And you'd be smart to head home. A pretty little thing like you may not be safe around here at three-thirty in the morning, I suggest you boys see her to her car."

Sheepishly, Dale, Matty, Jimmy and I walked through the bar and out the door.

Once outside, Dale turned serious, even caring. "Lindsey, are you OK to drive home? Let me drive your car and Matty will follow."

Still very drunk, very high and very horny, I laughed. "Who says we need to go home? Let's go fuck in the firehouse!"

Dale laughed, "Honey, I would love to, but I didn't do late night routes through the worst areas in town, just to lose my job and my license by fucking you in the firehouse." Jimmy and Matty nodded in agreement.