The course fabric of the bedspread scraped my nipples with each hard thrust. They were painfully tender and erect. I took a deep breath and tried to grab onto a lick of sanity, taking stock of my current situation.
I was naked and couldn't be more exposed. My ass was up in the air, my cheek on a pillow that smelled of bleach and cheap detergent, a thin sweat coating my body. Both of my hands were fisted in the bedspread, holding on for dear life as that creamy black cock shuttled furiously in and out of my pussy.
Yes, the elements had combined to completely blow my mind this evening.
Jolting me out of my dreamy reverie, he suddenly grabbed a handful of my dark hair in one of his big hands and smacked my ass hard with the other. My head snapped back, and I couldn't help the moan that was pulled out of somewhere deep inside me. Did I make that sound? It seemed like it came from far away. Oh dear, what had I gotten myself into this time? I smiled. Even as his cock pushed all the way against the inner walls of my pussy, why was it that I could only think about getting more, deeper, harder, again and again?
I had wanted this, needed this so bad, needed this man in my life. As I pushed my muscles to the limit in order to crane my head around to get a glimpse of that handsome face, I thought back to how it all began...
At this point in my life, I knew what I wanted, and I wasn't afraid to go after it anymore. That didn't just apply to sex, but the sex part was damn good. My enlightenment hadn't happened overnight though.
It had all begun on one of those lonely nights. Sitting in my kitchen sipping my daily made-it-through-another-day glass of wine, it had hit me before I knew what happened That mild yet persistent feeling of discontent. When this happened, I typically laughed it off because I was normally such a happy person it annoyed most who knew me. I owned my own business, I had the two best kids a single Mom could ask for, both in college and both making me so proud every day, I had great relationships with my friends, my family, my colleagues and at 45 I felt like I'd finally made it. Life was good.
So, what could it be making me feel sad out of the blue?
Feeling just the teeniest bit tipsy (okay I had actually downed 3 glasses of wine on the night in question, but was anyone counting?), I made my way to my bedroom. Under my bed was a black and red toolbox with a combination lock. I knew it by heart by this point - right 30, left 23, right 5, and the lock clicked open. Something in this box was usually the cure for this kind of problem. Sigh, which toy to use tonight?
Running my fingers over the assortment of dildos, vibrators, magic wands and magic bullets, I finally landed on the one I'd had in mind. My porn star replica cock that matched a certain gentleman I'd loved to watch while I masturbated. The smooth dark silicone felt so much like real flesh. So much, yet nowhere near enough at the present time.
My discontent had me putting it back in the box, closing the lid and locking it up again. I sighed and laid back on the bed, and it was then I began to accept that I wanted a man in my life. Not needed but wanted, and really not in the traditional sense. And not just any man. I needed to find the right man.
Men weren't terribly hard to come by I had found as I had entered the dating world after my divorce. They just never had "it," and when I found myself looking forward to my alone time more than our time together, I knew it was time to break off the relationship. It was a cycle I had gone through until I gave up on dating. Though I did feel lonely at times, I knew it wasn't right for me to take up a good man's time with a relationship that wasn't going anywhere.
I absently fingered the small pearl buttons on my blouse as I reclined on the bed. Unbuttoning a few, I reached inside my shirt and toyed with a nipple. I was doing this alone stuff way too often these days, I thought as I grazed my fingers lightly over the material of my jeans. Though I wanted to be strong and not need a man, it was time to admit that's exactly what had been missing.
Yes. I needed good dick, and I needed it now. And not the plastic kind either.
What are you going to do about it?
taunted the voice inside my head.
I sat up straight and glanced at my laptop, annoyed with the thought of pleasuring myself yet again. I wanted to play like I didn't need anyone or anything, but was it right to lie to myself the same way I lied to the rest of the world? I needed physical intimacy. I craved it and could no longer deny it. The emotional entanglements I could do without, but my dilemma was simple. I needed to get fucked. I needed hard, hot, sweaty sex and the satisfaction that I knew could come with it. The challenge would be in finding the right man for the job.
I had done the online dating thing before. Is that what I needed now? To start a new profile on Match.com? I stared at the Google search bar. Feeling frustrated, I typed in ten different things then backspaced them all out. "Find a Lover" ... lol no. The word "lover" just reminded me of old Hollywood, and I giggled a bit. "Find a playmate" landed me on a lot of backpage prostitute classified ads. Finally, I searched for "Find an adult friend" and found a website devoted to just that.
I debated, struggling to come up with a sexy yet cute username and go through all the ridiculous hoops you have to jump through to start a profile, including paying a membership fee.
Am I really doing this?
I thought once I entered my credit card information and agreed to monthly auto-renewal. Then I was there on the site's landing page with an offering of a variety of gentlemen the site's "algorithm" thought I would like.
A grid of photos and brief descriptions of eligible companions came onto the screen, and I was struck by the varying sizes and shapes of the array of penises now in front of me.
Did every man choose a dick pic as his profile picture?
I laughed. Some of them made me giggle, some of them generated a little sympathy, and some made me question if they were actually real.
Almost immediately my inbox began pinging with messages.
"
Want to peg me?
"
"
Come over and sit on my face
"
"
Watch me suck off my boyfriend"
Not one message appealed to me and I had no desire to reply. I shut my laptop with a loud snap and folded my arms over my chest, pouting. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep with that frown still on my face.