I didn't intend it, but when I walked into H's flat one summer day after months of anticipating our next meeting, he looked me up and down and said: "You look like you've come here to get fucked."
Our friend Y was in his bathroom fixing her makeup, and when she walked out she remarked that I was blushing. We went to a music festival down the street, and we would return for dinner at his in a couple hours.
Months before we had kissed - long, violent kisses for hours on his sofa. Kisses I'd cum about hundreds of times before I saw him again. The way his hands crept below my bra, the electric shock of his fingers squeezing my nipples. The way he said, "I knew when we met you'd like a little pain."
I had left when he said, "I want to make you cum so badly." because it had gone on for too long. And I walked home, wet beyond belief, dreaming of how he could fuck me.
But, I was with someone else. I couldn't do it. Could I? I told him it had to stop. He said ok, we could be just friends. He's use every opportunity to tell me about the other women from that point on.
There was S. "We have slow romantic sex, her and I. But she doesn't excite me."
There was M: "Her clit is unreal. Soft and tight, makes me want to cum as soon as I enter her... I could love her."
There was a redhead he didn't bother to name, but sent me a photo of her once tied up in ropes. "I fucked her ass harder than I have ever fucked anyone's ass."
Jealousy is a complex emotion. I was in agony, but I came over and over thinking about him and these women.
When the day came and I knew I was going to see him I wore a loose flimsy short summer dress, and when I left the house I could see my hard nipples through the thin material.
When we returned to the house H had a three course dinner prepared - each was accompanied with a different alcohol. In the first, we consumed a bottle of sparkling wine, in the next a bottle of sparkling wine. Then H made us Manhattans and finally a shot of mezcal. As he poured the drink, I watched the veins on his arms and ached. I didn't want to say goodbye. Not yet.
The three of us sat on his couch and he lit a cigarette. And I watched him smoke, my head spinning, I uncrossed my legs and crossed them again. I saw his eyes look me up and down. I could feel my wetness trickle out of my pussy when he did that. Y was prattling on, and had no idea.
I closed my eyes for a second and felt the world whirl around me. I had to leave, I said.
"Are you okay?" Y said.
"I need to go," I managed to get up. Felt for the wall as I put my sandals on.
Y gave me a big hug. I had a flight the next morning. H said he would walk me down.
He shut the door, leaving Y inside his flat. And for the first time we were alone looking down at the staircase and lead to his front door entrance.
"What's wrong?" he said.
