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Fucking on the Floor

My friend Tanya and I had been dying to try this new restaurant across town, Iris, where the stuffed vegetable dishes and endless varietals of mezze were making the rounds on social media. Every day it seemed I scrolled past another photo of olive oil being drizzled over a bed of smoked cheese and fava beans, or labneh finished with a dusting of pistachios and za’tar. I could only take so much before going to see for myself what all the fuss was about. 

Tanya and I made the trek across town and settled in for an hour-long wait with a bottle of Chenin Blanc at the bar. We eyed the plates as they swept past us, kebabs and honeyed dates wafting their scent about the room. What I guessed to be Eastern European trance music was pulsing from the speakers. Tanya and I tipped our glasses back, the wine tart on our tongues. A server offered us rosewater misted towels to wipe our hands with, and I wanted to bury my face in the plush fabric, run it all over my body and then ask for another. I didn’t. I calmly swept it over my palms, my forearms. It left a lingering scent. Between the sensory overload and the half bottle of wine, I was famished by the time Tanya and I finally got seated. 

We were in something of a little alcove away from the central dining area, and I was grateful for it. Besides, the lamp over our heads was casting perfect lighting for photographs. 

“Should we be bad, order another bottle?” Tanya said.

I smized back at her, “You’re the one with an early wake up time tomorrow. Let’s start with a glass. I don’t want to be too tipsy to really enjoy the food, you know? Maybe we can check out the listing and…oh my fucking God.” 

Tanya looked up at the same time I did to notice the server coming our way with a wine list in hand. 

“Holy shit, Chloe, is that – ??” She was making urgent eye contact with me and kicking my feet below the table. I squinted in the dim light, tried not to overtly crane my neck in his direction. It was too late, though, he’d seen me. I could tell by the way his steps faltered slightly and he did that devastatingly sexy shoulder roll that made his neck look somehow even more lithe and graceful. His long dancer’s body was closing the distance between us too quickly, I wasn’t ready. 

“Antonio. It’s Antonio. Oh god, Jesus, it definitely is. Fuck, fuck! I can’t do this right now!” 

But I had no choice because there he was, at our table, not two feet away. Antonio, my first love and partner of four years. The one who left me to join a dancing company in Milan. I hadn’t seen him since he’d left years ago, and it was making me ache that time had treated him so well. He was sexy before when we were so young, but now? Now it seemed that he’d fully come into himself and his body stretched long and sculpture-esque before me. A dancer’s body. Almost feminine, almost could be made of marble. He was beautiful. 

He coughed. “Chloe. Hi. I thought that was you.”

“Antonio.” He met my eyes and they were just as sincere as I remembered, dark pools, heavily lidded. Bedroom eyes. I felt a warmness beginning between my legs. Fuck. “Uh, how is…was…Milan? You’re back in the city?”

“Yeah, I actually got a position with the, um, The New York Ballet?” 

He said it like a question. I wanted to tell him, Get of here with that modesty, but could only say, “Wow. That’s really incredible.”

I wanted to say, I’m happy for you. I could cry I’m so happy to hear that. I know how hard you’ve worked. Of course I didn’t, of course there was too much there. Wounds. Sadnesses. Lust. Oh, fuck me, the lust. He dropped the list off and walked away with a prim nod. Tanya and I ate our meal. It was gorgeous, heavenly. But I was distracted. Antonio had disappeared and another server was taking care of us, an older, mousey man. I was becoming distraught. Had he left? Was he really going to just say hello and leave? After all these years between us? What the fuck? The restaurant was beginning to close as Tanya and I finished up. Dim lights grew brighter, brooms swept floors and surfaces were wiped. Just as I was about to truly lose it the other waiter came to our table with two glasses of ouzo and pointed to the bar. I looked over to see Antonio raise a glass our way.

“These are on him,” the mousey man said. 

I looked at Tanya and stuck out my lower lip pleadingly. She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “Yes, yes. Go.” 

Do I really need to tell you what happened next? How Antonio and I had barely finished our drinks before we were hailing a cab back to his place? You already knew, didn’t you? But you want more, you want to hear about it, you filthy minx. Okay, then. 

In the car ride back to Brooklyn we held each other. I whispered things in his ear, private things about how he moved me, how I still thought about what he would do to me in the darkest hours of the night. Or broad daylight. It had never mattered. We always wanted each other wherever we were. My hands were in his lap and through his pants I could feel him harden. I pressed against him, letting him know I felt. He leaned into me, nibbled on my earlobe. Whispered what was going to happen as soon as we were through the door of his apartment. 

We were hardly in the elevator though before my hands were snaking up the back of his shirt, untucking his waiter’s button down from his belt. His back was a landscape of rigorously trained dancer’s muscles, small tendons and hillocks of rigid flesh. I thought of the hours, the labor. How beautiful his body was arcing through the air on stage. I missed watching him dance. 

As the elevator’s numbers ticked upward Antonio slid a hand up my skirt and brushed against my clitoris through my panties. 

“I miss this part of you,” he sighed, and suddenly he was on his knees, wrenching my underwear to the side and burying his face between my legs. He threw one of my legs over his shoulder and gently spread my labia apart with his fingers. Holding my lips aside with one hand, he stretched the skin of my mound upwards, pulling the hood of my clit back. He began lightly licking the exposed head of my clitoris. Slowly, not too fast. He remembered I was sensitive and too much right off the bat was almost a turn off. He worked his tongue around me, flicking it along my slit, pushing the tip inside of me. He kissed my vulva and whetted his tongue with my wet, languidly lapping, sucking. He took my clit between his lips, teased me by brushing his teeth against it like he was going to bite down but held it there instead, softly suspended between his front teeth. Me, helpless. I was writhing, but to twitch too far in any direction brought my clit harder against his teeth. It was deliciously unbearable, this predicament. 

I’d been moaning, but now my noises were escalating to a guttural lamentation, something strange and foreign coming from the pit of my stomach. My sounds filled the elevator, echoing off of the glossy surfaces all around us. The walls and ceiling of the small box were mirrored, and all about us were reflected views of our bodies from different angles. It was so surreal and unfathomably sexy I wanted to tell Antonio to look up and see, but that would have involved him stopping what heaven he was delivering between my legs, so he’d just have to miss out on this scenic overlook, poor guy.

Suddenly the elevator dinged and the doors flew open. Antonio wrenched my skirt down and I straightened myself. Thank god there was nobody on the other side. Though if there had been we’d have given them a view they’d be thinking about for years to come. 

You know that sensation of a ringing in your ears after a loud concert, or shocking noise? Imagine that between your legs, and that’s my cunt in this moment. I could barely walk, and was limping down the hallway with a dazed smile spread over my face. Antonio was a few paces ahead of me and looked back over his shoulder. I’d leaned against the wall to gather myself for a moment and was pressing my legs together, trying to calm the cacophony my clit was screaming at me.  He laughed. 

“Oh, poor Chloe!” 

I lolled my head in his direction, grinning. “Jesus, you know how to fuck me up.”

He walked over to me and with the weight of his body pinned me lightly against the wall. He pressed his hard into me, grinding against my hips. I worked mine back into his. His hands were in my hair, up my shirt, fiddling with the straps on my bra when the door of the apartment next to us opened. A chubby corgi on a leash sauntered out followed by an elderly woman with her hair in curlers. She saw us immediately and her eyebrows shot upward, mouth dropping into an alarmed O! She slapped her hand over her eyes and gasped, “Oh dear!” She fumbled forward with one arm stretched out, leash in hand, and her eyes still shielded by the other. 

Antonio and I hastily separated, brushing our clothing down while mumbling, “Sorry.”

“So sorry.”

“Really very sorry.”

We stood there silently as the woman made her way slowly down the hall, hand never leaving its position as shield over her eyes. 

“Come on, Portia.” she mumbled to the corgi. Portia yelped in our direction.

Once the elevator door closed behind her Antonio and I dissolved into hysterics.

“What is she even doing up?” I gasped, “It’s like three in the morning.”

Okay, enough was enough. We had to a damn bed. Or couch. Or floor. Or something. It took what felt like an eternity for Antonio to unlock his door, but once he did I was on him. Kissing, licking, petting. Feverishly. Starved. I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his belt. I took him into my hands and kissed the tip of his head lovingly, rubbed the length of him over my face and against my cheeks.

“Thank god,” I breathed. And then I swallowed him. I could feel his fullness pushing against the back of my throat, and as I gagged myself on him I took his balls in my hands. I squeezed them lightly, feeling their centers roll against my fingers. Fuck, I was so wet. His hands were in my hair, then back behind his head, then in my hair again. I took just his tip between my lips and sucked. Hard. I flicked my tongue against the seam of it, feeling the skin there pulled tight by his erection. Antonio moaned. I gagged myself again, holding him by the ass and pushing all of him into me. I held him there for as long as I could, long strands of drool lazing out the sides of my mouth. When it was just on the cusp of being too much, when I was starting to feel uncomfortably choked, I slid him out and spat on his dick. Then spat again. He shivered. I remembered he used to love when I would do this to him. After spitting I bent in and sucked the saliva off, swallowed it while looking up and holding eye contact. His eyes rolled back in his head. I smiled. Knowing what gets someone off feels like magic. 

I took him in my mouth again and ran my teeth softly down the ridge of his dick, feeling him almost contract away from me, but not quite. I brought my nails against him, too, letting the long acrylics scratch lightly down the length of his cock. I pinched his tip between my fingers, lightly, then let my teeth wander up there also. He was putty melting against the wall. I knew he loved the almost threat of my teeth and nails against the most tender part of him. It was the trusting that was the hottest thing. Taking someone to the edge and letting them dangle for just long enough, then pulling them back, lavishing them with comfort and love once again. I held him captive with my hard edges until I thought he would go blue in the face from the expectation. And then I licked him. Delicately. Gingerly. Like he was a stick of cotton candy that would melt away if I lapped too harshly. 

He’d had enough of my teasing. He bent down and put his palms against my shoulders, got face to face with me. His lips were a hair’s distance from mine, but he didn’t kiss me. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back in New York,” he whispered. 

“Shut up,” I said, flicking my tongue out and catching him on the chin, “just fuck me. Then we can hold each other and catch up if you want.” 

He hung his head, laughing. “Well fuck, okay,” and he pushed back, laying me down against the floor. We were both somehow still fully dressed, a feat given the way we’d been clawing at each other. 

I stretched my arms over my head. Closed my eyes. Commanded him, “Undress me,” and let my eyes close to focus on his touch.

He began at my feet where he bent down and bit the band of my sock with his teeth, tugging it downwards and off. He licked the top of my foot, kissed a small trail around my ankle. Then the next foot, same thing. I was so wet by now I was certain a small puddle was collecting on the floor underneath me. He let a finger wander up the inner thigh of one of my legs and underneath the plume of my skirt. He traced along my slit, pushing into me slightly through my underwear. I was so wet I could feel the thin fabric melding against the skin of my cunt, becoming saturated and slippery. I sighed with pleasure. 

“Someone’s excited,” Antonio said, and I could practically hear his eyebrow cocking upwards the way it always did when he was surprised at something. How surprised could he be though? Antonio had always been able to read my body like a book. I remembered how the first time we slept together rather than saying, “Did you come?” he asked me, “How can I make you come?” And that was it. The sexiest thing about Antonio was that he cared. 

His hands were at my skirt’s zipper. As much as I wanted to open my eyes and watch him undress me, I wanted the fullness of his hands against me and only that. And I wanted the surprise of where he would go next. My skirt was down around my ankles, then my underwear, then both were off of me. I could hear a buckle hit the floor and deduced that he was undressing, too. He slid his hands upwards across my stomach. I was bloated from the mezze, but I didn’t care. My body had always felt most beautiful and calm against him. Suddenly my shirt was over my head, tugging over my skull and off. I was taking deep, excited breaths and it was all I could do to stop myself from begging him to fuck me. I bit my lower lip and writhed. He held me in place with his body on top of mine, and suddenly I felt a finger push between my pussy lips and slide into me. Then another. Then another. I bucked against his hand, feeling my wet lather his fingers and palm. Eyes still closed. I could feel my cunt clenching around his fingers as he burrowed deeper into me.

“Fuuuuccccckkkkk,” I breathed skyward. It was too much, I couldn’t be silent, I had to see everything now. My eyes flung open and Antonio was naked and mounting me, his pristine cock poised above my spread legs.

He looked up at me, said, “I’m glad this is happening.” 

I took fistfuls of his hair in my hands and nodded vigorously, “God, me too. Now bury yourself in me.” He teased me for a minute like I knew he would, nudging his tip against my swollen vulva and gathering my slick along the length of him. He dipped one hand into my soaking hole and lathered himself, then sucked his fingers. He sighed, grinned. 

“You taste like ouzo.” 

Before I could tell him that was ridiculous he’d plunged into me, letting me swallow him up to his base and working against me without pulling any of his length out. My G-spot was glowing. Holy shit, I’d forgotten about this. Was it the angle of his cock, the slight bend upwards that it had? Who the fuck cared, all I knew was whatever he was doing was igniting me from the inside out and my pussy was blissed on it. He pressed lightly against my mound and the slight pressure only heightened the sensation. I was grunting, whinnying, what sounds was he pulling out of me? They weren’t human, and they weren’t heavenly. This was raw, meaty sex, and something entirely carnal was taking place. 

He began to work in and out of me. Pulling all the way out, pushing back in. Slowly at first, letting me really feel him spread me over and over. I relished that first penetration, the way it felt when the walls of flesh inside of me were muscled apart in order to envelop another whole. It felt like being opened. 

I wrapped my legs around his torso and he pulled me up so I was sitting in his lap. My hips were working circles over his and his head was all the way back, mouth slightly open, a low moan rising through his lips. I leaned forward and kissed his neck, that graceful stem that had first caught my eye at Iris and let me know it was him. Taking his nipples between his fingers I pinched them, then did the same to my own, rolling their nubs like little stones between my fingertips. 

We rolled onto our sides and fucked like a big and little spoon, me facing out with his mouth breathing hot against the back of my neck. His hand was reaching around my front and working my clit while his bowed dick continued to perfectly hit that golden spot inside of me. I was losing control, and as much as I was trying to concentrate on rocking my hips in a perfect rhythm against him, I couldn’t focus any longer. My insides were rollicking, ambrosial warmth spreading through the flesh between my legs. I was close now. But I wanted to finish on top. 

I flipped over and on top of Antonio, sitting on him backwards to give him a view of my asscheeks bouncing as he slid his shaft in and out of me. I worked my own clit now, leaving it to myself to bring me to that final, pulsing orgasm I knew was so imminent. My G-spot was humming, my clit was singing, Antonio’s cock was hot and throbbing. 

I came in a gush over his dick, sending liquid spurting downward over his hips. Seeing me squirt must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back for Antonio. I felt him shudder within me as his hands gripped my asscheeks and squeezed helplessly. His entire body buckled, his toes curling and legs spasming. I felt the hot flood of his cum pool deep within me then slowly leak out, mixing with my own wet over the hardwood beneath us.

I was leaning forward, my arms stretched out and breasts pressed against the floor, lungs heaving for air and back rising and falling with them. Antonio slipped out of my pussy and crawled up to hold me. We fell asleep like that, lying in our wet spot. In the morning we were both sticky with each other’s cum, and we woke to the corgi Portia barking in the hallway.

“Poor Portia,” I mumbled, “we really scared her last night.”

Antonio pulled me closer and buried his face in my hair. “Anyone who gets to see us like that should pay money. As far as I’m concerned Portia owes us.”

I laughed. “I’ll be sure to stop at your neighbor’s apartment on my way out and let her know.”