Sketch (7 page)

“Grind down on me,” I instruct her, pushing her down onto the tent in my shorts. I can feel her heat through the clothes I’m wearing, and it’s the best kind of torture.

She’s rotating her hips in a motion I know will get her off. Bending my head down, I take one of her hard nipples into my mouth, laving it with my tongue, nipping at it with my teeth.

“Sketch,” she gasps again, and this time it’s breathless.

She’s grinding down on me, my cock is pointing straight up, leaking like a sieve. I know the tip of it is hitting her clit, because I feel her intake of breath each time it does. Her forehead is leaning against my shoulder as she circles her hips around me; my hands are grasping her ass cheeks tightly, helping her to rotate her hips, helping her to get as close to me as she can. It feels as good for me as it does for her.

I feel it, her letting go as she tightens and turns her mouth into my neck, sucking harshly as she comes against me.

“Fuck, Sketch,” she breathes out. “I’ve not come from dry humping since we were teenagers.” She giggles slightly.

Little does she know I’m not done with her yet. Trailing my hand down her body, I use my thumb to strum her clit before I slowly sink two fingers inside her wet heat.

“Oh God,” she moans. “So sensitive,” she whispers. “So fucking sensitive.” She whimpers as she both tries to push herself closer and get away at the same time.

“You want another, baby?” I ask against her hair. “It’s here if you want it.”

She breathes heavily against me and then slowly starts to grind against my fingers, crushing her clit against the palm of my hand. I’ve never felt her this wet before, and it’s killing me not to pull my cock out of my pants and jack myself while I get her off.

“Do it,” she tells me. “I know what you’re thinking. Do it, I wanna see it.”

The two of us fumble with my shorts, her rising up on her knees to give me room. I purposely don’t stop my fingers; I follow that pussy as it lifts, and she gives me the hottest look I’ve ever seen in my life. My hand and her fingers fight with one another trying to get my shorts off, but we finally accomplish it, and I’m bare to both of us.

This isn’t going to take long, and I know it.

Nina gives me the sexiest smile as she grabs my free hand and pushes it between her thighs, wetting it with the evidence of her good time. I moan as she does this, never stopping as my fingers pump in and out of her. She pulls my hand back and uses her hand to wrap mine around the length of my cock. It’s hard, and the tip is already moist and wet from the amount of pre-cum that’s left a wet spot on the shorts I can see on the couch over to my right. I don’t do any preliminaries. Normally, I like to tease myself a little, work the head with my palm and get it nice and ready to go. Tonight I’m already there.

“That’s so hot,” Nina breathes. “Seeing you do that to yourself while you’re doing what you’re doing to me. Jesus, Sketch, when did we stop doing stuff like this?”

I don’t even want to think about it right now. Right now my thoughts are all focused at the tip of my fingers and between my legs.

I already feel a tightening at my spine, feel my cock getting harder, the way it does before I come. I speed up my fingers on Nina, shoving them in and out of her until my forearm screams with pain and tension, but I’m not giving up on this. Not this time. I run my thumb quickly over her clit, feeling it engorge, just like the head of my dick.

“Right there,” she tells me, and her hands move up to her tits, her fingers circling her hard nipples, the tips yanking on the ends. Her face is flushed, her bottom lip is between her teeth, and the tendons of her neck are stretched tight as she leans her head back, letting her hair brush my thighs.

It takes seconds until I feel her come against my hand, feel her drip onto my palm. And that’s it, I can’t take the tease anymore, and I’m pumping my length so hard it’s the only thing I can hear in the room. Then I feel it.

“Shit,” I groan, shoving my hips up towards her, feeling my release explode against both of us. My hips keep pumping even after I know I’m done, and I look down, seeing another mess between the two of us. This time, though, I know it’s only a physical mess, not an emotional one, and it makes this mess completely worth it.

SKETCH

A
rson is back
in my chair today, and we’re powering through, trying to finish the piece we started the week before.

“You doing alright?” I ask him as I lean up, stretching my back out.

“I’m good if you’re good,” he tells me. “I’ll need a smoke break if we’re still doin’ this in an hour though.”

I nod, knowing we probably will be.

“You seem better than the last time I saw you,” he mentions as he readjusts before I lean back in, continuing on the piece.

“I’m good,” I tell him. “Nina and I are trying to work things out, so I’m hopeful.”

That’s the first time I’ve used the “hopeful” word with anyone, and it strikes me as kind of funny that I used it with Arson, but it’s true. “That’s tight, man, it takes a lot for two people to admit their faults and then admit they want to work on things.”

“That’s what we’re doing. So far it’s been good, but I don’t want to jinx anything just yet.”

“I totally feel that. Me and the old lady,” he winces as I hit a tender spot, “one time we thought about giving up, but we worked it out. Took us almost a year, and sometimes those same gripes and complaints come back up, but we try not to take the bait with one another.”

I shift in my seat and grab the other color I’m using to shade. “Yeah, dude, that seems like it’s going to be hardest thing so far. I mean it’s hard to let habits die. Ya know?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s why I’m still smoking.” He grins over at me. “But you’re young, right?”

“I’ll be twenty-nine in two weeks,” I tell him. Fuck, I feel old though.

“Oh yeah, you’re a baby. Nina’s your age, the two of you just gotta figure shit out. Giving up is easy. It’s the making it work, that’s the hard part.”

I realize with clarity that he’s right. Giving up was easy, deciding to try to make it work has been the hardest decision of all, and I know it’s going to be a work in progress for a while. It’s been a couple of days since my gym session and my dry hump fest with Nina, but my forearm is still a little sore, and I realize a few minutes later that
I’m
the one that needs the break.

“Let’s go ahead and do that smoke break. Holding this gun sometimes makes my arms and hand hurt,” I tell him as I roll back from where he sits and start taking my stuff off.

“I’m good with that.” He reaches into his pocket and grabs out his cigarettes and lighter as we make our way outside.

I grab my phone off the counter, as well as my own cigarettes, and follow him. We light up, and I see I have a few text messages from Nina, and I check them while Arson and I talk.

So, hubby of mine, I’ve seriously been looking at this #igotsketched tag, and I have to say, I didn’t know you did more than tats.

Shit. I can already see where this is going to go. I’m also a licensed piercer, but I don’t enjoy it. It’s something I’ve done for extra money when the shop needed it. Arson takes a phone call, and I continue to scroll through her messages, taking a hit off my cigarette.

I found this and I thought it looked interesting.

I pull up the media message and see a woman’s nipples with barbells through them, tagged with my hashtag. I know who this chick is because I also did her tats. She’s one of my most loyal customers.

Does it?
I ask her. I’m not really sure what she’s getting at, and I wonder if she’ll have time to answer me back. Now that I know she’s teaching, I think twice about texting her through the day.

It does.

That was quick, and I’m answering her just as quick.
In what way?

She answers back.

I think of you leaning over my chest, your breath hitting my nipples as you mark me up and then pierce me. I think of the way I like your teeth on my skin there, and then I wonder if I would love this or not.

I’m breathing hard as I read this message. Who knew that my wife would be interested in having her nipples pierced?

Nipple clamps would give you roughly the same feeling
. I’m typing out quickly, before she stops talking about this.
We could always give those a try out, babe; you let me know when and where. You like that—then we’ll talk about the piercing, but I’ll be the only person piercing you. No other motherfucker will be seeing what’s mine. Tits, pussy, anything you want done, I’ll be doing myself.

Hmm…I’ll have to look into this. Have a good day, Dev.

She talks to me about piercing her nipples and nipple clamps and then leaves me a have a good day? What the actual fuck? Shit. We’ve never done this kind of stuff before, and I’m not sure my dick can handle it. Six months away from each other has changed us, it’s made us more open, and I’m not sure I can survive this shit daily.

What the fuck? Have a good day? Yeah, I’ll have a good day when my dick softens enough for me to sit back on my chair and concentrate. You’re killing me.

It’s not much longer until another message comes back in as I’m chain smoking like a motherfucker hoping to calm myself down.

If it makes you feel any better, if I had a change of panties, I’d need them right now.

Fuck me, where the hell did this woman come from and where has she been hiding? It’s a part of her personality I never knew she had, but I love it. I want to explore more of it, and I can’t wait until we spend some more time together.

Movies tonight? I’ll pick you up at 7?

That gives me enough time to go home and take care of my problem. I’ll be waiting.

I laugh, running my fingers across the beard I’m sporting. I haven’t shaved in three days. Wonder how she’ll like the feeling of that against her soft skin? I’ll make sure she finds out tonight.

SKETCH

F
all is coming;
I can feel it in the air as I walk out of the house. I can smell it in my nose as I take a deep inhale, feeling the coolness in my lungs. At six o’clock it’s already dark. This is my favorite time of the year. This is when I come alive. There’s a bite in the air that tells me winter is coming and I get to get all my hoodies and long-sleeved shirts out of storage. No more sweating my balls off as I’m making my morning runs.

In my experience, this is when the real customers start coming around too. They aren’t getting a tattoo because it’s going to look cute with their swimsuit or because it’s hot enough that they can cut the sleeves off their shirts. I can stop with the cutesy tattoos and get dark and deep. These are exciting times for me.

When they sit in my chair in the fall and winter, they are serious, and I love it. I remember back when we first got out on our own, Nina and I made a huge deal over Halloween. We haven’t even handed out candy the last three years.

I get into my truck and turn the heat on low. The gray thermal I’m wearing will keep me warm, but I have leather seats, and I’m not sure what Nina’s wearing tonight. The news said the lows would dip into the upper forties tonight, and to me, that’s perfect.

Driving across town to pick up Nina is foreign to me. Even in high school we lived close to one another. I’ve been to her apartment once, and that time wasn’t particularly a good situation for either of us. The cops were called, if I remember correctly.

“I want her out here,” I tell Trace as I take another hit off the bottle of Jack I’m carrying around. It’s sloshing and spilling over my hand.

“Let’s go.” Trace grabs my arm, trying to pull me back towards his car, but he can’t. I’m super human in my drunkenness, and I dig the heels of my boots into the concrete.

“No,” I tell him again. “I want her out here. I want her to see what she’s done to me. Man, she’s my fucking life.” I’m getting more and more pissed. I can see her car, I know she’s there. “She’s my fucking life!” I yell, sinking to the ground, feeling defeated in a way I never have before. “And she doesn’t know it, or she doesn’t care.”

“C’mon, Dev.” Trace attempts to pick me up, but I purposely make myself deadweight.

I want her to see me like this; I want her to see the devastation she’s caused. She thinks it’s so easy to walk away from me and not think of the consequences, let her fucking see this. I glance up to the apartment I know is hers. I see the light come on and the door open.

“Devin, get out of here,” she hisses at me as she makes her way down the stairs. “You’re going to get me kicked out.”

“Good,” I yell back at her. “Nothing’s ever been difficult for you, Princess.” I take another drink of my Jack and lean back against the asphalt, thanking God that it feels cool.

“Nothing has ever been difficult for me? That’s the biggest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

She’s fuming, and I can tell by the way she’s got her arms crossed over her chest, the way she’s tapping her fingers against her bicep.

“All you gotta do is smile at me and spread your legs, and I give you anything you want.” I’m attempting to stand up so that I can look her in the eye, but it’s hard. The ground is moving out from under me as I brace against the concrete and try to push myself up.

“I hate you,” she tells me through teeth I can see clenched. “Look at you, you’re an embarrassment. Get up off the asphalt and take your ass home.”

It was at that point I passed out, and I remember nothing else about that night, only that I was told the next day Trace and I passed a cop on our way out. Tonight, I’m not drunk, and I’m not looking to make an ass out of myself.

I turn into the complex, seeing it with new eyes. This is definitely a working-class complex, and I’m surprised Nina picked this on her own, but then I have to realize she’s only on one income. For the first time I wonder, has she struggled? I haven’t because I was the major breadwinner in the first place. I told her so many times she didn’t even have to work, but she insisted. Now, I’m curious, but I’m not sure how to bring it up.