Rubbed Raw (45 page)

“Yeah, me neither.” He exhaled loudly and sat up straighter, trying to hide his erection that had grown even more somehow. “How about that drink?” He needed one badly.

With every word that passed his lips, Jennifer became even more attracted to Matthew. She liked that he was faltering. It showed his true character. “Sure. Maybe it’ll relax me.”

“Ditto.” He had begun to want her even more. There was no logic to it. He could just feel some sort of… magic, or electricity. He was not sure, but it was something. He raised his hand and attracted the server’s attention, “Two rum and cokes.”

Jennifer smirked. He ordered just right, too.
Was everything about this guy perfect?
She hoped his flaws were minor, or at least easy to handle.

Matthew looked over at her. She was the most beautiful woman he had met in this new town. He moved closer to his sister to get away from his cheating ex-wife. He could not stand to look at anything that reminded him of that slut. He had hoped he could meet someone to take his mind off his ex and she seemed to be doing just that.

They both sipped their drinks and looked at each other with a smile. One drink quickly turned into two, then three, and then four. Soon they were laughing and revealing their pasts. The buzz they felt was enough for their guard to be down and inhibitions to fade.

“On a little league baseball field? Really?” Matthew was shocked that Jennifer admitted to it, but he was glad she was open-minded to a point.

She smiled. “My ass was right on home plate. Good thing it was dark out. We could hear people passing by not too far away. I’m sure someone heard me crying out as I came, though.” It was something only four people knew about. She could not believe she told him.

“The only interesting place I ever had sex was my car.” Matthew smirked, recalling a few details about the encounter. “But we did get caught by a cop.” They both laughed at that.

Jennifer’s eyebrows rose, “So, never in a public place?” She looked at him with longing. The sex talk made her panties wet. The alcohol allowed her mind to wander and fantasize about him in detail.

“Nope, sorry. I guess I’m boring. I have to broaden my horizons.”

“Starting now,” she got up and pulled Matthew towards the back of the club by the hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To broaden your horizons.”

Matthew was hoping he knew what she meant. He was a bit shy when it came to initiating something with a new girl. He was always afraid if he made the first move, he would be rebuked. When she dragged him into the empty ladies’ room, he almost stopped her, unsure again. Then his dick stirred. He needed to live a little.

“We’re not strangers anymore. Kiss me,” Jennifer demanded as she shoved him against the door of a handicapped stall. It had just enough room to do what she wanted. She hoped he would loosen up and go with the mood.

Matthew leaned down and kissed her lips. She tasted as good as she looked. He reached around and grabbed her ass in his hands. The alcohol was helping him be what she seemed to want and do what he wanted so badly. His kisses got aggressive fast. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone.

Jennifer was excited he went along with it. She put her hands on his chest and ran her tongue across his teeth until he opened his mouth for her. Then their kissing became passionate. They heard women talking, but ignored it. She grabbed a handful of his hair as his body pressed against hers slightly. A quiet moan escaped her lips as her pussy contracted, and her hips brushed his.

He could not hold back anymore. One hand slid under her top and grasped her breast as he groaned in her ear. “God, I want you,” he whispered. Then he pulled her closer, grinding his cock into her. It looked like she would be his first one-night stand. He hoped it would be more, but would take what he could get.

She was thinking the exact same thing as her hand moved down his body and opened his pants. He was the first guy to turn her on just by speaking.
Yes, bigger than Darren
, she said to herself as her hand wrapped around his eight and a half inch shaft. She took it out and stroked it as they continued to kiss. His size made her pussy almost tremble. It was just what she had hoped for, not too small and not too big; just right.

Matthew let out a soft moan as she pulled back his foreskin and gently slid her pinky around the edge. Then her thumb caressed the head and spread pre-cum all over it. She had satiny skin and an amazing touch. She seemed to know exactly what he liked already. He gasped when she pumped her hand, forcing out more fluid.

Jennifer peeked and smiled. She liked how an uncut cock felt inside of her and he took good care of it. She wanted to taste it, to run her tongue under the skin and…

Matthew was losing control. His hands quickly reached under her skirt and yanked her panties down. Then without even a thought, he lifted Jennifer up and got her against the wall that connected with another stall. They gazed into each other’s eyes as he roughly shoved his cock into her pussy.

“Shit!” His eyes rolled back as her wet pussy gripped him.

She grabbed his shirt tightly as the unexpected orgasm consumed her. It blew away all her thoughts and even the question of him being disease free. Another rough stroke made her moan while her legs shook.

She felt as good as he had hoped. His boldness of a raw entry surprised him. “Are you on birth control?” Matthew asked, a little too late.

She moaned and replied, “Yes. Oh God!” Her head went back as he drove into her to the hilt. Even if she were not, she would not have cared. He was that good.

There was a knock on the stall door. “Occupied!” Matthew shouted which made Jennifer smile just before she cried out yet again. “It’s been so long, I’m afraid it’s gonna be quick.” He squeezed her thighs and covered her mouth with his as he started to thrust faster.

She clutched his shoulders and moaned again. She did not care if he was going to cum quickly, as long as he fucked her again some time. She had to find a way to hang onto him.

“Ma-t-th-ew!” She was panting and speaking was difficult. “After you… cum, fuck… me again. Please.”

“Anytime.”

He groaned and shoved into her harder. His desire had doubled at least. How good she was making him feel, was a shock. The sounds she made, the way her pussy clenched, her breath over his neck. It was all too much to handle and he could not let sex this good go without a repeat performance.

Jennifer was pleasantly surprised. He was doing it just the way she liked, the way Darren would not, fast and rough. She could not ask for anything more from him. It seemed he knew just what was going to make her cum. Suddenly, her legs locked around him and she tried not to scream, just calling out his name again.

The metal wall was shaking as Matthew pounded her, relentlessly. They gasped together several times, filled with more pleasure than either had expected. Their eyes met, both glassy. Their mouths reached for each other at the same time. Then they were moaning again. Matthew spread her legs more and fucked her even harder.

“I think they’re screwing in there,” someone said. Matthew smirked, taking them knowing as a compliment.

Jennifer became louder with each stroke. His thrusts were intense and perfect. She held on tighter, ecstasy building once more. “I’m gonna cum again,” she whispered in Matthew’s ear just before the trembling began. Then she cried out, loudly.

Matthew moaned as she gripped his cock from within yet again. “The look on your face when you cum is so hot.” He gasped as he withdrew from her tightened entrance and slammed back into her. “Damn, you feel so fucking good.”

They heard, “Hurry up, there’s a line out here!”

Matthew smirked again. He spread her legs apart a bit more, until he heard a whimper. Then his hips rammed into hers harder, giving her all he could. He brushed her ear with his lips then dragged his tongue up the side.

She moaned, a shiver going through her whole body. He moved to the other ear and she gasped several times, her head going back. He pumped into her hard and deep, his hips not slowing down at all.

His breath came faster into her ear. He tried like hell to hold back, but she just felt that good. “Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he told her softly. Then he squeezed her thighs and buried his cock deep inside her. “Oh God!” His eyes closed as several powerful bursts flowed into her. He held her until he had spent it all.

“Let’s go, come on out of there,” a male voice boomed.

Jennifer looked at Matthew. “I think we’re in trouble.” She smiled. “But, it was worth it. That was just incredible.” Her whole body was shaking almost out of control by then.

A smile formed on his face also. “It was.” He hoped his legs did not give out on him.

They picked her up in a bar.

It held with long tradition in Eurotrash swing. It was the etiquette of their set.

“Mathilde, or something, I swear to sweet Jesus,” Lise breathed out at him, her hair like black night in a Veronica Lake sheet over half her fading face. He remembered the first time he noticed that expression, over a big bowl liquor glass filled with amber fluid, when she was young. When they were both younger. How the force of desire punched him back from the table like a fist. It knocked the wind out of him. They had been together for a little while; some nights, maybe a week in the islands, dewy with damp funk, fucking in that fervid, hazy scape, covering everything—the bed, their bodies, the air around them—with a fine sheen of cum and sweat. He had come to think of it as the manifestation, the light purple coat of love. He matched her and it was good; he was not going to let her go. And this costs.

She had been holding the glass up to her lips, like she did this night, and she stood by him in a little corner of the tiki-hut tourist trap bar they had taken up at, transfixed. Fogging her glass with her moist breathing, in and out, a little cloud of steam and passion forming and dissipating as she stared at something across the black-lacquered disco floor, over the Continental lounge lizard heads. He remembered with a slight, warm smile that it had been like a shock, it had hit him like a shock, when he realized she was gaze-locked with a rather ordinary looking American. A woman. That was the price. That was the first time.

For some reason, only when they traveled—which was fine with him. Perhaps even the pattern he would have picked. Tonight they were in a bar in Amsterdam when Lise decided on Mathilde—and whether or not her name was Ebba or Gerde, she was Mathilde tonight. Lise always picked the names and the women.

Some kind of wildness creeps over a traveler, some kind of freedom from societal mores and traditional codes, a beautiful, cunning wantonness surfaces even in women who have been flogged with fear from birth. Robert found it easy to approach women traveling. He was, after all, the prick-coded counterpart of an extremely attractive couple. Without fear of insulting them accidentally, without worrying about what words to choose to provide some cushion of decorum and safety, Robert approached these women in the bars casually and honestly, prowling. Lise had smiled into his ear one night, mouthing it, her hand milking his balls through thick trousers (he could feel her grin against his ear,) that he was the best pimp she had ever known. Then she sent him off with a squeeze to work his magic on “Sabine” or “Paquette” or, one very memorable evening, “Juana.”

Mathilde had jostled up against him, pushing her soft body into his shape as they performed the verbal dance on the padded railing and among the hot, drunk patrons squeezing them together. He could feel Lise on the other side of the fountain, smoldering into her globe glass, watching them. He knew she had already worked her left hand up under her tight skirt, and was stroking herself , her slender, pale fingers enraging the already purple, bulging lips of her cunt. He often suspected the deft, pulling circles of her fingers conducted the sentences he exchanged; that with the tempo of her hand Lise orchestrated the night and he was just the instrument of an engorged, hungry organ unable to move autonomously, to service her own desire. He could never have imagined a more just deity. He attended without hesitation.

Between them in the cab, Mathilde reeked softly of bar smoke, a beery floral perfume, and underarm sweat. Her breath was hissing and fast, mewling out of her open mouth as she panted with slightly drunken lust. He knew the words from those pimply, furtive days in boys’ middle school, “groping,” “fondling”—they alone elicited this dirty, prickling erection. But it was far more satisfying to be plying soft young flesh, pinching pink arm skin and stroking Mathilde’s breasts into damp, stiff peaks; wedging himself down to suckle on her cherry red nipples; feeling Lise through Mathilde’s body, rubbing up against her, grinding hips in awkwardly, crammed in the back seat of the cab as it careened through traffic, the driver unable to keep his eyes off the rearview.

The shaving was a ritual. Robert remembered the provincial French girl, her first time overseas, they had picked up in a Japanese saki house. The look of pure terror on her face when Lise had produced the straight razor was thrown into sharp relief by the dissolving hysterics they had all collapsed into once its purpose was explained to her. Lise shaved Mathilde with care and erotic dexterity; Robert had become so entranced with the cold sharp metal/hot tender skin contrasts of this particular foreplay, it aroused him like no other fetish. Mathilde’s naked cunt, just the smallest obligatory nick smiling in a thin red line, readied, washed and pampered for his probing, fingering, fucking—the anticipation almost overwhelmed him.

Mathilde stood in a little pool of her own excitement in the center of their rented flat, looking at both of them with limpid, large wet eyes. She was stripping, pushing at her clothes, stretching them tightly over her round proportions, oozing out of a slip, her hands coaxing her breasts from a sweat-soaked brassiere, her skin glowing hotly in the warm yellow light. Her hands. Her hands releasing her body, the smell of her sex, the odor of wet pussy waving out around her as she turned her back to them, looking coyly over her shoulder through a halo of golden hair at them in periphery, pushing panties down over the globes of her asscheeks and then bending over, her legs splitting like the white skin of a pomegranate as her head bent to the ground, the fruit and smell of her cunt revealed to them like a jewel. Robert heard the slight gasp and felt Lise give out a tiny shudder beside him—a sure sign of something she called “the psychological orgasm.” He smiled to himself. His own silk pants were spotted with fluid leaking from his cock, bathing the head, making the once soothing material clingy and itchy. His mouth was watering.