A late winter storm dropped its white load with minimal interruptions and no apparent finale while I was asleep next to Erin in room twenty-five of the historic V Hotel. I woke to her long manicured fingers stroking me virtually in rhythm with the ticking antique clock that lie on the bedside dresser. It's agreed-upon that we aren't a committed couple, but we do habitually share a bed. Together we dissolve our feelings of loneliness with near overdoses of sex. I have been told that I wreak of it. Erin said she thought so when we met.
"Your eyes penetrated me like your cock does now. You are all about sex, like me."
I'm 50 she's 29. She doesn't consider it awkward since her father is a decade and a half my senior. She did say,
"When I decided I liked you, your age only mattered because I wanted to know what it'd be like to fuck a man so much older than me."
Erin is tall, all legs, taller than me, but not a big girl. Her breasts are plump and firm. They sit on her chest like they're tucked into a pushup bra, but its a deception, a magician's handy work or simply genetics, because Erin, never wears a bra. Her ass is made to park in and after several times together, I found out that she'd suggest I did. Her hair is straight and pitch black like the eyeliner she wears. It recklessly falls thick on her shoulders and around her cheeks. Mine is cut short and pepper grey. Erin's eyes are a brilliant green, mine are big and brown like a deers'. She has a slight overbite so her lips are always a bit parted, moist and inviting. My teeth are straight only thanks to braces. Erin and I have the same problem, our transient acts of physical pleasures consume us, are empty, destructive and never lead to meaningful relationships. Doesn't matter their names, we have a constant craving to seduce and are well practiced at it. Erin and I never actually date, we get sexually involved. We are both at a minimum, borderline sex addicts reluctant to admit it. If we're fortunate we'll get two or three times with our catch. When they are no longer desirable, the high long past, we track down other men and women who are willing to own the same risks or who are unaware that they are merely prey.
After a year, I know Erin well. We talk and laugh together often and not just between bed linens, blankets, or her bent over upholstered chairs. When we're not having sex she likes to tell me all the minuet details of her artificial dating life.
"I haven't slept with him YET."
She says her thoughts get scattered and mind blurred when she tries to truly date.
"I know when they want to HAVE me though."
Erin desperately wants another baby. She reminds me of that frequently. When I let go on her, she'll whine as she smears me over her hard nippled bust,
"Aren't you a healthy man. Look how much there is, what a waste. All that could make a baby boy."
Wandering around the city for no good reason, maybe lunch, we intentionally scout for women I'd like to pounce on, and too for men she'd like to be on her knees for. We are both straight. Sometimes we agree on potential partners, sometimes not. I have been known to say,
"I would break that."
Erin laughs. She enjoys looking at women sensuously, but insists she would never sleep with one. She would however like to see me wear a belle out. Erin attended a southern university thus the charming reference.
"My panties would be drenched if I watched you fuck someone else." Then changing her mind, "No I'd get jealous."
Erin wanted us to be a couple early on, still does, but she has an absurd personal life. Her daughters have different fathers, one in and out of jail. She never married either one, but she has been married and divorced. Without steady work, she lives in her childhood home with both her parents. Her oldest daughter is pleasant, her little one has serious behavioral issues. Erin is not convinced that any man would take her and her life on, I disagree. He exists, its just not me. We settled on being friends who frequently undress each other.
Erin has an insatiable palate for sex. She watches porn constantly with total disregard to basic cable programming. She masturbates more than any woman I have ever been with. She plays with herself when I expect her to, when I least expect her too and in places I would never think she would or could. Busy rubbing at her crotch through heavy denim or under a bunched up dress, in time she'll blurt out loud or lean towards me and whisper,
"I just came."
Somehow she'll gather her cream and bring a finger to her mouth to taste herself.
"Want some?"
As if the deed never took place, she's back to doing whatever we were engaged in, usually moving pieces on a chess board.
What I like most about Erin is when she's ready for cock, you know it. She'll drop her panties as hurried as a bullet headed towards it's intended target. Warming up my dick in her hand, she'll bring me to her dewy haven. I slip through as if I'm sliding down a freshly wax papered metal slide at the neighborhood park. Holding her from behind, she grabs onto a bed pillow and clutches it so tightly that its feathers could burst out. Between irregular breaths, she once asked me; said to me,
"Why would ANYONE want to be fucked any other way? You hit places I can't reach."
I didn't answer, but thought, the best position is the one where I'm inside of you or someone else. Public places are not the exception, but rather a preference. Making her short skirt shorter and just enough for me to see she's minus panties, she'll with intent, rise from her chair and walk away. She knows I like sex most when we are both somewhat clothed. She's headed to the ladies room or a secluded hallway, maybe an empty stairway she knows about. The game is, find me, fuck me and I'll suck on your cock till you make a mess in my mouth.
