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Not Just Another Saturday

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Another Saturday night with no plans and though I hadn’t felt much like going out of late, I’d be dipped if I were going to spend another one rattling around the house trying to figure out what to do with myself. No, I’m not going to watch some mindless TV or try to read something in which I had no interest, killing time only to face another night of restless sleep.

I’ve been a recluse long enough. Marcy, a.k.a. Senora Neurotic, had put my mind through a blender. I should have realized long ago when she’d stormed from the apartment screaming “I hate you!” Only to return a minute late to castigate me, “If you really loved me, you would have come after me!” Plus, I should have known better than to fall for the theatrics, but it would be several acts later that I concluded it was time to close the production.

It hadn’t really been broken my heart, just left it calloused. But those had softened, so maybe it was time to rejoin society.

Slowly. Just stick a toe in the water.

But where to go? Certainly not some night club/meat market. Never cared for them anyway. Some place kind of quiet, where I wouldn’t be out of place if all I wanted to do was sit at a bar and nurse a beer or two.

Nick’s. That would be prefect. Not really a sportsbar, although there were several TV’s in the place, normally tuned some sort of sporting event, it was hardly the main attraction. Just a neighborhood watering hole. No blaring music, just honest cocktails. And conversation, if that’s what you wanted.

Given the chilly February evening, it shouldn’t be too crowded either, so a seat at the comfortably familiar oval mahogany bar should be assured.

With that much decided, a shower and a shave were definitely in order. The homeless look probably wasn’t mainstream fashion just yet. Not that I’d paid attention, but it seemed a safe bet.

So about forty five minutes later, I was socially presentable and comfortably seated at Nick’s enjoying a frosty mug of brew, deciding if I wanted to watch basketball or hockey. I’d never been much for hoops, so I settled on the Bruins taking on the Habs, even though the game wasn’t quite the same now that everyone wore helmets and had all of their teeth.

The puck didn’t really hold much interest and I found myself checking out the crowd at the bar. Mostly small groups of guys, discussing, sometimes heatedly, the merits of some overpaid athlete; a few couples totally oblivious to the debates surrounding them. But what’s this? She doesn’t belong here.

At the opposite corner of the bar sat an attractive blonde, a bit overdressed for the setting, but pretty. Soft curves. Nice tits. Knock it off, you’re staring.

Good, she hadn’t noticed. Too busy being chatted up by a couple of guys who obviously found her more interesting than any sporting event. I couldn’t help but watch. I’d seen the drama countless times before. She’d flirt and lead them on. They’d buy her a drink or two. But in the end, they’d all go home. Alone. Time squandered. Pity . She looked like she could be fun, both physically and mentally. Oh well, not my concern. Time for another beer.

But first a smoke. Thanks to the state legislature and their constant concern for our well being, that meant stepping outside. So with a mildly exasperated sigh, I slipped on my coat.

No sooner was I standing on the sidewalk, taking a deep drag and sliding the lighter back in my pocket, when the door opened behind me.

“Could I have a light?” asked a woman’s voice, “Please?”

Without much thought, I fished the lighter from my pocket, turned, and thumbed the flint wheel.

It was the blonde I’d been eyeing earlier. Hesitating slightly, I brought the flame to her smoke. I suppose I held the lighter on longer than necessary, but found myself lingering on the light dancing in her soft brown eyes.

“Thank you,” she said with a quick exhalation of smoke, signaling it was time to extinguish the light.

“You’re welcome,” I replied.

“I’ve never seen you here before. My name’s Marianne,” she said, extending her hand.

I shook it lightly, “I’m George. Been a while since I’ve dropped in.”

“You’ve been away?’

“No, just keeping a low profile, and I finally felt like getting out.”

“So why have you been hiding?”

“Nothing personal, but to avoid women like you,” I replied, not really sure why I’d be spoiling for a fight.

“But we’ve just met!”

“You and me, yes, but I’ve met plenty like you.”

“And what is that?”

“You’re unfair,” I accused, “dishonest even.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry, Marianne, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“It’s too late for that. Now you’ve got to tell me.”

“Okay, you asked for it. But you’re sitting in there, flirting with those guys and leading them on with no intention of truly getting to know them or for them to know you. They’ll buy you a drink or two, but in the end you’ll know nothing about them and whether you really liked them or not.”


“So it’s all a waste of time. Totally superficial. You haven’t istanbul escort a clue if like them or not. The man of your dreams could have been right in front of you, and you’d never know it.”

“And what makes you think that’s what I’m looking for?”

“I’m not saying you are, but you’re not giving it a chance. How often do you think that might happen in a lifetime?”

“Beats me.”

“Exactly. But look, I’ve finished my cig, so why don’t we go back inside. I’ll buy you a drink and we can go our separate ways. You’ll get what you want and it’ll save me the trouble of having to make mindless small talk.”

“Cut the shit!” she snapped and I froze clutching the door handle. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve to pass judgment on me. Like you said, you know nothing about me.”

“Sorry. There’s obviously more to you than meets the eye. Tell you what….Lemme buy you that drink, and have a real conversation. I think we’re past the small talk.”

Thank god, she smiled.

“Way past the small talk. Those other two guys are boring. I’ll ditch ’em and you can buy me that drink.”

I held the door open for her, recaptured my seat and watched her do likewise.

I ordered another beer and wondered how Marianne would extricate herself from her suitors. Although I couldn’t hear the entire conversation, their disappointment was obvious. As soon as she offered to buy them a round, they knew that opportunity had found another door. She seemed to handle their protestations gracefully, and although I did not catch what had transpired, the guys gave understanding nods and then looked my way.

After a momentary panic attacked, I realized that somehow Marianne had used my presence as a means to excuse herself without getting them totally pissed off.

Brava, signora!

With a glass of white wine in hand, she headed towards me with a triumphant smile on her face. I’m sure a bewildered one appeared on mine, but before I could grasp the situation, she sat next to me.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you, George” she said a bit loudly, then leaned in to kiss my cheek, accompanied by a quickly whispered, “Pretend that you know me.”

“Ummm, just fine I suppose,” I replied.

Continuing in her quiet tone, “Play along, stupid. I just told those guys you were someone I hadn’t seen in a long, long time.” Adding with a conspiratorial smile, “I just didn’t tell them it had been since birth.”

Finally, the light came on, so I replied, “Damned good to see you Marianne. It’s been ages. What you been up to?”

“Nothing much. Same old stuff. You know, working mostly.”

Glancing at the two guys she’d just left, the defeat on their faces was obvious as they quickly downed their beers and headed towards the door, but one detoured to in our direction.

“Nice to have met you, Marianne,” he said, in a slightly pissed off tone while tossing me a quick glower. “Perhaps another time?”

“Perhaps,” she replied unenthusiastically, “Thanks for the drink.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied insincerely, and recognizing the futility of his effort, exited with his buddy.

“Charming lot they were,” I observed.

“More like boring. I suppose I should thank you for helping me get rid of them.”

“You’re welcome. I just hope you’re not always so devious.”

“Only if you bore me,” she replied, then added with a grin, “and so far, you haven’t.”

“I can only promise to be honest, but I’ll try to keep the conversation lively.”

“That’s fair.”

Once again, I felt myself succumbing to the light brown eyes that peered over her glass as she took a sip of wine.

Setting down her glass, she asked, “So, tell me, honestly, why haven’t you been around for a while?’

“A couple of failed relationships and I needed to take stock of myself. You know, try and figure out what went wrong before embarking on another.”

“I guess you’re being here says you’ve figured out.”

“Somewhat,” I confessed.


She let the question dangle, then smiled. One of those smiles that showed not only on her lips but in her eyes, and melted my resistance to be drawn into such personal conversation so quickly.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Why not, I have a feeling it won’t be boring. And like you said, I should get to know you.”

“I didn’t say that, I just said you weren’t getting to know those two guys you were talking to.”

“Who said I wanted to?” she countered, “But I do want to get to know you. That doesn’t mean I’ll like you.”

Thank god she finished with soft laugh and a sparkle in her eye, so I knew she was just twisting my knickers.

“Okay, I’ll take that chance,” I said trying to keep the mood light. “I guess the first problem is that as I got into a relationship, I would find myself trying to be someone else.”

“That’s hardly honest.”

“I know that. At least now, anyway. But I have this kind of phobia of upsetting people so I’d do things I didn’t avcılar escort necessarily like just to preserve harmony. Can’t say that I cared for conflict all that much either.”

“You could have fooled me!” she retorted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When we just met outside, you certainly weren’t afraid of conflict.”

“You’ve got me there. But conflict doesn’t scare me so much anymore.”

“Obviously,” she said. “So what’s you other problem?”

“Other problem?”

“You said you first problem was being someone else.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just the flip side the first,” I said. “By being someone else, obviously I wasn’t being myself.”

“So what is the real you?”

“You are the curious one!”

“Just don’t want to be boring,” she said.

Damn! There are those eyes again! We met – what twenty minutes ago? – and she’s already opening my darkest thoughts, but why do I feel so compelled to tell her?

“You’re succeeding alright. But you may not like what you hear.”

“In that case, you absolutely have to tell me, Mr. Honesty.”

“Okay, but promise you won’t throw you’re drink at me, just say, ‘Nice to have met you,’ and walk away.”


“Here goes nothing,” I said, suddenly fascinated by the array of glasses and bottles underneath the opposite side of the bar. “I have a bit of what some people would call a dark side.”

“But not something they’d put you in jail for, I guess.”

That snapped my head around, but again, I could quickly tell she was teasing me once more.

“Depends what state you’re in,” I replied.

She laughed. So did I, greatly relieved, but still hesitated.

“So spill it, Darth Vader,” she prompted.

“Okay, okay, but it’s sexual, so be forewarned.”

“Oooo, now we’re getting somewhere!”

“Well, I’m all for romantic preludes and all,” I continued, somewhat encouraged by her enthusiasm, “but once the lights go down and the clothes come off, I become dominant. Rest assured I’m not some guy who wants to inflict serious pain, but I do like things rough and primitive. For a woman to succumb to passion. To surrender herself to her man. I’ve found that puts a lot of women off.”

“Yeah, I guess we do have a problem,” she said sadly.

“I’m not surprised,” I replied dejectedly.

But then, she leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Yeah, I like to leave the lights on.”

As she retreated, she laid her hand on my thigh. The brown eyes were still there, but their softness was now replaced with an inviting smolder – their heat traveling from her hand and setting my brain on fire. Okay, maybe it wasn’t my brain, but the room suddenly felt much warmer.

However, my expression must have perplexed her.

“What? Don’t tell me I scared you?” she asked.

“Oh, no. Far from it.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

“There’s nothing I’d like to do more than kiss you right now.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Tentatively, our mouths touched softly, but any reservations quickly disappeared, as our tongues played aggressively. Our hands met, clenching tightly.

When I sucked and lightly bit her lips, she sighed, but unexpectedly broke off.

Again she reverted to a whisper, “I may be an exhibitionist, but only for a private audience.”

“Would you like to continue our, umm, discussion somewhere else? I live only a few blocks from here.”

“I’d like nothing better.”

I can’t truly recall what happened next. I know I paid the tab, though we’d hardly touched our drinks. We walked arm in arm to my place and I was roundly embarrassed as I fumbled with the keys. But what I truly memorable were the trail of clothes we left in our wake enroute to the bedroom, drinking in the fullness of her body as I flicked on the light, and the marvelous feeling of her soft, warm skin next to mine as I drew her on top of me while we fell onto the bed.

Our tongues danced, at times lightly, savoring the gentle teasing, others hungrily attacking each other with primitive passion. I sucked on her lower lip, then bit it lightly, as Marianne moaned softly. My hands caressed her back, traveled lower and squeezed her wonderfully round ass. Her tongue feverishly sought mine, as her fingernails raked down my arms, sending a shivering wave throughout my body.

Rolling on op of her, I pulled her arms above her head and caressed her neck with my lips, planting soft kisses from her ear to her shoulder, while her intoxicating perfume burned into my memory.

She shuddered slightly and said, “I love how you do that.”

I intensified the kisses, drawing her skin between my lips, at times sucking and others gently teething summoning her soft sigh, while her hand pressed my head more tightly against her neck.

To her surprise, I rose back to my knees and forcefully pulled her wrists over her head. Sternly glaring into her eyes, I commanded, “Keep your arms over your head. I don’t care if you have to scream and writhe. Curse me. Grab the pillow if you must, but don’t move them unless I give you permission!”

“And şirinevler escort if I do?” she said with a defiant smile.

“Then, you’ll get a spanking.”

“Yes, sir!” She showed no fear, obviously intrigued to know if I were serious, and, although the defiant smile faded, it did not disappear entirely.

Bending down once again, my lips sought her throat, vibrating against my tongue as a sighing moan passed by. Kissing, sucking and nibbling, I sought her soft, full breasts. Circling each with my tongue, her chest rose to greet me, encouraging me to suck and bite the flesh around each areola, delighting me with the swelling of her tits and the anticipation of her stiffening nipples.

Her hands ruffled the pillow, but did not drop below her head.

Without warning, I drew a nipple into my mouth sucking hard and chewing on the rubbery bud, while one hand squeezed the other tit tightly. My ears relished the sound of her fingernails rasping across the pillow case along with the harmony of her moaning, personally delighted that she fought so courageously to obey. A furtive glance revealed the fluttering of her eyelids, while her lips rolled tightly inward as she struggled for control.

Testing her further, I stretched the flesh surrounding her nipple, alternately biting and whirling my tongue aggressively against it summoning a gasp as her hands now grasped the pillow.

I paused briefly to admire her predicament – the swollen breasts and lovely distended nipples, her ragged breathing, her tightly clasped fists, but more than anything, the supplicating twinkle in her eyes. My own torture was equally revealed by the aching erection jutting out before me. She made no effort to disguise the lust seeing added to her countenance.

For the shortest of moments, a thought flashed. Could I have found the ‘woman of my dreams’ in an evening that had begun with no plan or concept? Logic immediately intervened and reminded me not to put the cart before the horse.

A quick twitch of my head left her baffled momentarily, until I resumed my role, focusing sternly on her eyes, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please don’t stop,” she weakly replied, while the obvious, pleading look returned.

“Remember to keep your hands above your head, or there will be consequences,” I warned, my tone serious, my gaze intense.

Her brief nod wasn’t really necessary, her expression well more than sufficient.

I resumed my oral onslaught of her breasts while one hand lightly traced down her tummy and across her hips. Pausing when it reached the edge of her pubes, her hips rose in greeting, bringing her slit to my fingers, but what’s this?

Releasing a nipple from between my lips, I said, “So, you shave your cunt, you hot little bitch?”

“Yes. Umm, is that a problem?” she inquired, with a slight twinge of panic in her voice.

Sporting a slightly menacing stare, and pinching her slick and meaty labia with increasing pressure as I spoke, I replied, “Only if you’re not the slut they indicate!”

Her reaction was priceless. She further pressed her pussy against my hand, tightened her grip on the pillow while her eyes closed and mouth opened slightly, issuing a loan moan while her face revealed pleasure so deep it was almost painful.

Exquisite! I could really get used to seeing that.

My thumb and index finger sought out her clit and pinched again

Definitely exquisite.

While my fingers played across her pussy, alternating between teasing with barely discernable traces along her labes and aggressively gyrating a couple of fingers on her clit, pinching it randomly, I meanwhile kissed her deeply, our tongues dancing, sucking and lightly biting each other’s lips.

Her enthusiastic response only drove me further – I had to get my mouth on her cunt, to feel the soft smoothness on my tongue and taste her intoxicating essence.

Reluctantly breaking our kiss, I turned on my knees, spread her thighs with my hands and lightly traced her pussy lips with my tongue. Although her hips rose to greet me, I backed off enough to maintain only the slightest contact, while she emitted a soft whimper.

Turning to face her, I asked, “Do you want me to eat your pussy?”

“Yes,” she replies hoarsely.

“Ask nicely and I might.”

“Please eat my pussy.”

“Your hot, wet pussy?” I asked as my fingers briefly pinched her wetness.

A short gasp was followed breathlessly by, “Yes, please eat my hot, wet pussy.”

My cock twitched in response to her sweet pleading. Wasting no time, I forcefully sucked her lips into my mouth while my tongue aggressively sought her clit. Once again her hips rose to meet me while she sighed in satisfaction.

And so, the battle was joined – my lips, tongue and teeth attacked with licking, sucking and biting, while she engaged my triumvirate aggressively, spurring on our enjoined forces with gasps and moans. However, her body suddenly went rigid, while I felt her hand tightly grip the back of my thigh, fingernails digging into my flesh, signaling my victory.

But what’s this?

I felt a drop form and fall from my nose. There it is again! Is she really that wet? I could feel it on my lips and tongue as well. No, this is different. Almost tasteless and thinner, more like water. Could this be what I think it is? I’d heard about women “squirting,”but there wasn’t much force, more like a steady trickle. Could I do that again?

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