Memories (Part 1)

What I needed most was to be held. I think that whomever invented the phrase “one of those days” had specifically been referring to the type of day I found myself at the end of —draining, demoralizing, and completely sick-making. I wasn’t sure that I had a fever, but I might as well have. My heavy heart was doing the trick, anyway. I might as well have been burning up and aching all over, anyway. All the same, I felt strangely numb, stuck in one of those surreal places that you find yourself in when something major and upsetting has taken place. 

My current stroll had been motivated by a breakup earlier that day. Jared, one of my partners, had met up with me to break things off. We had only been seeing each other for six months and some change, at that point, but I had grown pretty fond of the guy, and had even started to entertain the possibility of something relatively long-term happening between us. It wasn’t often that I felt like I experienced the specific kind of connection that he and I shared, and I had really enjoyed the space he occupied in my life, during the relatively brief time that he actually occupied it. I don’t think I could ever forget the first night Jared and I met, even if I had wanted to. Even if someone paid me to. 

We bumped into each other under the kind of circumstances that all but begged further interaction…and “interacting” is the tip of the iceberg, when it comes to what we would wind up doing to each other later that night. I suppose it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that I consider myself to be something of a size queen, and when Jared and I wound up getting to know each other a bit better after having a few drinks…well, let’s just say I was pretty pleasantly surprised.Okay, I was pleasantly surprised. That first night, back in my apartment after we had consumed plenty more than an advisable number of drinks, things actually got started pretty slowly. It was just as well, considering that we didn’t really know each other at the time. That first night was exploratory. It was more about the pushing of boundaries, once they were found, than it was about anything else. Almost a game of sexual cat and mouse, each of us feeling the other out, working to learn what worked, what didn’t. What was against the rules, and what was practically demanded by them.What started as simple kissing eventually got much more handsy and exploratory, our fingers probing each other’s bodies with an eager and expectant kind of enthusiasm. I could feel him getting hard, though his pants, as we kissed more and more intensely. I even managed to coax a soft little man-moan out of him when I bit his lower lip and pulled it away from his face, just a little bit. It was one of those rare moments of vulnerability, the kind of naked display of pleasure and wanting that made me positively gush. He must have sensed my wetness somehow, because as our tongues tangled up with each other inside our mouths, I could then feel his hand, seeking and probing and looking for a way to undo the button on my jeans. I actually couldn’t tell whether or not he was intentionally taking his time, or if he was being deliberate, and working to draw out the gesture. Either way, the result was pretty much the same, my pussy practically clenching in anticipation, wet as ever while I waited for his touch. Eventually, it came, and when it did, I thought I was going to, as well. I reflexively bit his lip just a tiny bit harder than I had actually intended to, the moment his fingertip made contact with my clit. Supercharged with yearning and anticipation, the moment was positively electric, and pleasure coursed outwards through my entire body, radiating down every single inch of my limbs, outward from his fingers as they drew tiny circles around my clit. I had to actively work not to melt in his arms, then, my body going slightly slack. It was my turn to moan now, and I let it softly into his ear, my tongue following and making goosebumps shoot out from his flesh. I could feel him getting even harder, his dick pressed against me as I massaged it gently with one hand. Our bodies had taken on a rhythm, by that point, rocking back and forth against one another. I was a sopping mess, my whole body all but begging to be filled up with his, and when he eventually slid two of his fingers inside me, I clenched with pleasure, my head lolling back. He took the invitation, kissing my neck and running his tongue up and down it, his free hand finding its way to my nipples and pinching one of them in rhythm with the rest of my body. I couldn’t tell where one sensation ended and the others began, my entire body becoming a writhing mass of orgasm as I came on his fingers. My pussy clenched around him, undulating over his fingers to the rhythm of our movement, and when I stopped I looked at him with eyes full of business. I pushed him down, off me and back into the couch cushions, kissing him hard as I did so. He didn’t have time to react. Couldn’t get a word out edgewise, even if he had wanted to. My hands worked quickly, undoing his pants as my lips wound their way down his chest and torso. While he wasn’t impossibly ripped, his body was decently finely tuned, and I massaged my clit with a free hand while my lips and tongue explored the ridges of his body. By the time I got to his cock, I was practically ready to devour it. 

Some dicks are big. Some dicks are small. Jared’s dick was a GOOD dick, in a way that transcended size. Although it helped that it was significantly large, as well. But more than that, it was just an excellent, almost picturesque dick. One I almost didn’t want to put in my mouth, because that meant I wouldn’t be able to look at it anymore. At the same time, though, I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted it sliding in and out of my body, slick and shiny and covered in my cum. So I started at the tip. There was no deep-throating this thing, so I used both hands, working them up and down along the shaft, as I fit his head as much of of the rest as I could into my mouth. I ran one of my hands up and down his chest, feeling the ripple of his abdominal muscles, admiring the results of my work as his body tensed and released, clenching at the pleasure stemming from my touched. My mouth was the source of intense pleasure for him, and I ran it up and down the shaft of his enormous cock with purpose. Before he came, he looked up, and stared directly into my eyes. His hand was in my hair in what I can only describe as an affectionate gesture, and instead of announcing himself like most men do, he simply looked up and caught my eyes. I kept working, the act having by then taken on as much pleasure for me as it did for him, and we held eye contact, looking deep into each other as I finished. He came into my mouth, and I could feel him pulsing, his cock throbbing and expanding in a way that exceeded his control, and all because I brought him there. I could feel his entire body radiating with the fruits of my touch, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had wanted someone more. 

If only we had been as emotionally compatible, though. It feels like a cruel joke, sometimes, to have been so physically keyed into someone…only to realize, after the passage of an almost mockingly extended period of time, that you just fundamentally do. Not. Like that person. That you’ll almost definitely never like that person, and that if you had been paying attention, you probably would have realized that the person in question is the polar opposite of the type of person you might normally think about partnering up with. But physicality can account for a lot, and so that’s just the way of things. And OK, fine. You caught me being hyperbolic. Six months isn’t a CRAZY long time. But maybe that little bit of exaggeration keys you into the fact that I don’t really do anything halfway. And that goes double, if not triple, for my time with Jared. We did absolutely nothing halfway, and we did just about everything together. But the interesting thing with Jared was that we took it weirdly slow. There was almost a sort of game to it. To the patience of it all. We’d make each other wait for things that were normally not to be waited for, and we delighted in doing so. To a degree that took on almost as much rewards as the actual acts themselves.

One of my favorite memories of this type of contest, so to speak, comes from what would have been just the third or fourth time he came over to my apartment. We hadn’t actually had sex yet, amazingly enough, and I got the feeling that this was something of a first for the both of us. Ironically enough, we were weirdly all about spending time with each other in those early days, and then fooling around in ways that involved doing just about everything but penetrative sex, almost as though we were holding that possibility over each other’s heads, teasing ourselves with it and drawing out the tension as long and as much as we possibly could.I had been in a summery little dress, and we had wound up on the couch, watching TV. He spooned me from behind, and I had settled comfortably against his weight, enjoying the smell of him, and the closeness of it all. Maybe thirty minutes into whatever show we had been watching, I felt his grip tighten on my hip just a little bit. He might have been responding to something in the show. There could have been just about any number of reasons for the almost imperceptible increase in pressure that I felt on the soft part of my hip. But I knew better. Almost immediately and most definitely in response, I pushed myself back a little bit, grinding myself into him ever so slightly. I could, once again, practically feel him getting hard against me through his pants. I loved it, the feeling of being in command over his body. The idea that I could coax an involuntary response out of him with little more than a slight flex of my hips. I pushed back against him again, harder, angling my hips upward. I wanted to feel him against my pussy, which had already started to fill itself with anticipation. He put his face in my hair, against my neck, breathing into me as he pushed his hips harder against mine, our bodies taking on a familiar rhythm. I could feel him getting harder, but as I reached down to take him in my hand, I was met with an unexpectedly tight grip around my wrist. He stopped me, and instead slid himself out from behind me, pinning me on my back.Instead of putting his body on top of mine, though, he slid himself up and between my legs, opening them and running his tongue up the inside of my thigh as he did so. My whole body arched, spine curving practically into the shape of a big capital C. My nipples hardened and I had goosebumps covering me — he hadn’t even gotten to my clit yet. And he took his time getting there. He lingered, flicking his tongue gingerly along my lips, tasting me fully before finally kissing my clit, long and full. He sucked it softly, working it with his tongue as he did so, and I responded by claiming a fistful of couch cushion. My body shuddered, alive and electric as wave after wave of pure pleasure coursed through me, radiating out from my clit as he worked two fingers deep into my pussy, pushing upwards against my G-spot and bringing me to an orgasm that I swear lasted an hour. Maybe more? Might have been days. Who knows. I was lost in it. Lost in the absolute pleasure of it all, his mouth practically drinking me in, lovingly kissing and sucking on my clit. 

I still can’t remember how many times I came that night, my orgasms blooming hard against his face as he ate my pussy and fingered me while I writhed there on the couch, completely blind and lost in an opaque cloud of orgasmic pleasure. But it was a lot of times. That became another game of ours, in fact. He would go down on me, endlessly patient and loving in his eating of me, and see how many times he could make me come. How many times could he bring me to orgasm before I could make him stop, the point at which it all became too much for me to handle.But OK — clearly my solo stroll session wasn’t having the desired effect. I didn’t need to be getting all hot and bothered in the middle of a highly public area, so maybe walking around whilst falling through a sexual memory hole wasn’t the best idea in the world. And anyway, it was a good time to go home. I started heading upstairs, towards the lower level of the above-ground parking structure. 

It probably didn’t help that this was a place Jared and I had come together on several different occasions. I mean, there were only so many options in town. It’s not like I did this on purpose, and there were several other, memory-free malls that were just waiting for me to pick. I wasn’t being dramatic. It’s just hard to find a place someone special doesn’t live, when you’ve spent such an inordinate amount of time with them. And so, I found myself wandering along on the way to my car, inadvertently walking just past the place where Jared and I had actually had a pretty landmark date.The movie theater on the second level of the mall actually opens up and out onto the lowest level of the parking structure, a large portion of which is in the open air. This uncovered portion of the parking lot is a pretty popular hangout for local high school and college kids on the weekend, usually attracting a pretty sizeable crowd. One night, early in our relationship, Jared and I had picked our way through all the kids, sitting in a particularly rowdy showing of whatever comedy blockbuster had just come out that weekend. We wound up sitting there, alone in the theater, for way longer than we meant to, chatting and talking well past the point that everyone else had left. At a certain point, we were the only ones there in the theater, and it was only when a teenaged janitor impatiently stared at us until we got the message that we finally left.

We walked out to his car, parked at the far end of the parking lot, which was by now completely deserted. A full moon hung low in the sky, and when we got into the car, Jared didn’t even bother with the ignition. He practically grabbed me by the blouse and pulled me into him…not that he needed to, as I was halfway over the center console and ready to devour his entire face, and then also the rest of him. He rocked my seat back and I felt his weight settle on top of me, pulling his shirt off as he crossed the console to get on top of me. He unbuttoned my blouse, slowly, sucking my nipples as he slid his hand past the waistband of my pants. I spread my legs, wide, inviting him inside me, even grabbing him by the wrist and pushing his hand downwards as I bit down on his lower lip just a bit. I kissed him again, pushing my tongue deep into his mouth, and flexed my hips upward, sliding my pussy up and around his fingers. I repeated the motion, softly fucking his hand as I kissed him. I felt a moan rise up from his chest and through his throat as I massaged his cock with my free hand, feeling it harden and swell in his pants, responding to my touch and the motion of our bodies coming together.He slipped my pants off, kissing his way down my stomach, taking his sweet time to reach my vulva — but his fingers beat him to the punch. While I was busy focused on the trail his mouth was making up and down my inner thigh, he snuck two fingers inside me, making me gasp as they entered me and filling me with an unexpected pleasure. And then his mouth was on my clit, sucking me and licking me until I was more wet and needful than I could bare.

I stopped him, lifting his head. I brought it to mine, kissing him deeply and shifting our weights to that he rolled over and I was now on top of him. After dealing with his unnecessary leather belt and stupid button fly, I had his pants off too, his beautiful cock practically fucking shining for me there in the moonlight. I kissed it and took it into my mouth hurriedly, really just trying to do the right thing. I wanted it inside me. Still, I could feel him getting even harder in my mouth, his body tightening up in response to my kiss. Finally, I lifted myself on top of him. Taking his shaft in my hand, I held myself above him and teased the lips of my pussy with his head, tracing his cock in a circular motion around my opening, pausing to rub it against my clit and feeling my entire body, shuddering and wracked with anticipatory pleasure. His cock was rigid, veined and throbbing in my fingers, and I started to slide it up and inside myself. I pushed myself open with it, feeling it stretch and fill me. I still can’t decide if it was better than I thought it would be. I was wrapped so tight around him, I could feel every movement he made inside me, and by the time I had managed to actually slide the whole of him deep inside me, I was convinced I would explode simply from the pleasure. I planted my hands on his broad chest and lifted myself, fucking his cock with my entire body, milking moans of pleasure out of him and feeling myself coat my cock with his wetness. My lips clenched tight around his thickness, dragging up and down and filling every inch of my body with some of the most intense pleasure I had ever known. I came, soaking his cock with my cum, clenching hard against his shaft, my body practically devouring his cock, over, and over, and over again. I probably fucked him for forty-five straight minutes in that parking lot, my body unable to get enough of his dick. I felt like his cock penetrated me deeper than anyone had ever fucked me before, and the only thing I knew when it was over was that I needed more. We laid there together in that car for another hour, just looking at the stars through the windshield, as stupid as that probably sounds. But what the hell. We had exhausted each other.And it was just as well, too. Because as soon as we had regained a sufficient amount of energy, I lifted myself up and slid him right back inside me again.