It was Tuesday afternoon and I was bored. I started replaying my Sunday evening to pass the time and for my own titillation. I don’t usually do the kind of thing I did on Sunday. Part of me thinks it’s kind of sleazy, kind of slutty. Which made it all the more arousing.
I had met a potential new boy toy, Colin, for drinks. We sat and chatted for an hour. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, was up front about his faults and we had some stuff in common. Afterward he walked me to my car, which I had parked in the back alley. We started kissing and, wow, the chemistry went through the roof. If it wasn’t for a van backing out of the alley and nearly running over Colin, we might still be there, joined at the mouth.
Instead we moved our make-out session to the car. I couldn’t get enough of his kisses. My car is too small to attempt full on coitus with anyone other than a Chinese acrobat. Colin offered to get a hotel room since my apartment was full of Irish folk musicians (it’s a roommate thing), but something else was brewing in my mind. It was late on a Sunday. It was dark. The windows were fogged over. It’s one thing to do this in a car when you’re sixteen. But at my age it was… well, sleazy… slutty… seductive.
I eased his seat back and he knew right away what I had in mind. I clawed open his jeans and eased out his thick cock. Colin’s breathing sped up as I lowered my mouth around him, stroking him with my tongue, until the tip of his cock jammed deep in my throat.
Colin twisted his hands in my hair and helped me find the pace he needed. I could feel my pussy wet and throbbing. In all the crazy things I’ve done, I had never given a blow job in such a public “non-lifestyle” place. It was an incredible turn on. It wasn’t long before Colin shot his sweet cum down my throat. I swallowed down every drop and went back to lick his cock clean.
Back in the land of Tuesday afternoon I was aroused and smiling. I wanted to share my story with someone who would enjoy it as much as I did, and especially enjoy the sleazy, slutty aspect of it. The first person to pop into my mind was Lenny.
And just like that my good mood collapsed.
Because I wasn’t friends with Lenny anymore. After five fun years of FWB, our relationship had suddenly crumbled. I had been unprepared and saddened to suddenly figure out our friendship, which seemed so solid, was no more substantial than a sand castle at high tide. His memory and the memory of all the stories we’d shared had jumped out at me and I was again unprepared for that loss.
Of course, it’s not really the sleaze or the slut factor that usually makes me reluctant to grab stolen moments in semi-public spots. It’s the risk of being caught, especially caught naked and vulnerable. And this time it finally did happen. Not on Sunday, but on a Tuesday afternoon when I was bored.