Loading...I shifted my computer bag on my shoulder as I hustled down the corridor. I hated being late, especially when it was my own presentation. I was cutting it close, very close, and at these things audience reviews were everything. The last thing I wanted to hear from my manager was that my reviews sucked because they were preoccupied by my tardiness.
Thing is, the convention hotels in Vegas were just enormous. Someone told me that they put on a pedometer to see how far it was from their room to the convention floor – in the same hotel – and clocked in at just over one mile.
I was certainly feeling those distances now, that’s for sure. Never let them see you sweat, the advertisement used to say. Yeah, right. Try not sweating as you high-tail it down a mile of convention room corridors.
Entering the room I strode with all the confidence I could muster to the front, preparing myself mentally for this presentation. I got to the lectern and was completely in the zone of “presentation mode,” pulling out my laptop and connecting it to the projector.
That’s the reason why I was completely unprepared for what happened next. She was sitting there, in the third row of a packed room audience. The woman I hadn’t seen in over fifteen years, the woman who…
I struggled to clear my head, shaking it in reality to clear the vertigo that threatened me. I couldn’t focus on this now. Now was not the time. Now was not good. Now I had a job to do. Time became fragmented, staccato.
Unfortunately for me, my emotions and my mind wouldn’t play along. I didn’t have the mental – no, emotional discipline to put this new intrusion aside. But do so I must.
I started my presentation, just as distracted as I was in the days following what she did so many years before. I had practiced my presentation enough, had done it enough times that it was pretty routine by now.
“In cases of complex biogenetic computations, we can use high performance computing…” i intoned. Normally I can take the driest material and make it interesting to the audience at hand. Now I wasn’t sure if I was even speaking English.
The bitch was sitting right in front of the lectern. My mind raced. I lashed out in my head, my inner voice letting loose the tirade that I had promised I would share with her if I ever saw her again.
Damn, after fifteen years, I didn’t expect this kind of reaction, some detached other voice chided.
Yeah? Well fuck you, came the original voice. And then, directed to her, No, fuck you!
“… and applications such as sequencing fall into a category we call embarrassingly parallel processes, which…”
She was sitting there, emotionless. Almost as if she didn’t recognize me, but of course I know that wasn’t true. Inside my head raged the war between fifteen years of pent-up anger, an experienced maturity of growth during that time to cool the temperature, and the professional voice of presentation delivery. I was at a loss as to who was winning and who was losing.
“Now no process likes to be embarrassed…” A joke, delivered poorly. A few scatters of laughter throughout the audience.
What was that on her face? A smile? No, it was a smirk! Bitch. Cunt. Whore.
Time’s up. The presentation came to a close. Enthusiastic applause; guess I must have done better than I thought I did. No questions asked during the session, but about a half dozen people surrounding the podium. Business cards thrust at me.
She got up and gathered her belongings, and left the room. My heart sank, and then surged with anger – but at myself this time. Why did I still care? What did I really expect? Did I think she was going to be one of those coming up afterwards asking me for more information? Did I think she was going to hang around afterwards, loitering long enough to give me an apology? Pipe dreams.
Nevertheless, I felt dejected, like it was an opportunity missed. I managed to gather my things and leave the room, half-expecting her to be outside the room waiting to catch me alone. Again, I was disappointed.
The rest of the day was a haze, a blur. All the concerns and problems I had been focusing on, presentations, budgets, materials for the conference – all of it was completely obliterated by the swarm of buzzing memories in my head. The bizarre fragmentation of time seemed to smooth out as my heart rate began to calm.
I should have known. Go to a supercomputing conference and you’ll meet computer scientists. It’s a small world. Too small, in some cases.
I went back to the room and threw my shit on the table, and lay down on the bed. Unbidden, unwanted, the memories came back. It may have been years ago, but each memory was crisp and clear.
I could still see her in my living room on that Sunday evening, although living room is a bit of an overstatement for a grad student’s living space. There were books laying around the entire room, as I was preparing for my doctoral comprehensive exams. Five days of examinations without any break, on any subject from any time in my graduate school career. And it started the very next day.
“Mike,” she said, “I’m breaking up with you and going to be with Adam.”
The news hit me like a ton of bricks, and to say that I wasn’t expecting it, not at that moment, was an understatement.
“What?” I asked, incredulous. I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised at what she said, or the incredibly poor timing.
“I know this is a bad time -” she continued.
“You’re doing this now?!” I sputtered. “I have my comps starting tomorrow!”
“Well, do you expect me to hold my tongue and live a lie?”
“YES!” I exclaimed. I had this bizarre sense of priorities running through my head at that instant. It seemed to me if she was going to leave me, the least she could do was wait until after the most important series of exams in my academic career had completed so as not to fuck me up!
“Well,” she said, clearly not expecting that answer.
“Eileen,” I said, caught between wanting to shout at her and yet still persuade her not to do this. “How could you do this to me?” I had gotten a lot of shit for going out with her in the first place, but she was very intelligent and I’ve always had a weakness for she-geeks. I started to resent all the times I had to put up with those wise-cracks.
“Look, Mike,” she said, starting to get defensive. “We haven’t been spending much time together anyway – ”
“Because I’ve been studying for my comprehensive exams!” I was close to losing it. I was angry, and rapidly approaching hysteria at the unfairness of it all. She was a graduate student too, although in a different field. She should have known what the stakes were. She was supposed to understand.
“And I’ve been spending a lot of time with Adam as a result,” she continued.
I remained silent. This was one of those moments where the only thing I could think of was to either call her every name in the book or strike her. Worse, I felt that if I were to start calling her names it might lead to striking her, and I’d never hit a woman in my life. I wasn’t about to start now.
“I think he can give me the attention that you don’t want to give me,” she said.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to remain calm. I had been studying non-stop for five months, remaining diligent and dedicated to the task at hand. She had said that she understood. We had been planning a vacation immediately afterwards. My birthday was in a couple of days and we were going to postpone the celebration until after the exams…
Christ, she was leaving me two days before my birthday, too!
“We talked about this,” I said, my voice even. I doubt it was possible to sound reasonable but I hoped I was doing a passable job. “We’re going to take a vacation starting immediately after the last exam on Friday, remember? We’re going to spend the time together, the whole week, just you and me.”
She shook her head. “It’s too late for that, Mike,” she said sadly.
“Don’t do this,” I said. “Please… please don’t do this.” This wasn’t just about the timing. It was about the fairness of it all. It was about a lack of respect, both of how she felt about me and how I felt about myself. “I can make it up to you, I swear I can.”
She shook her head even more emphatically. “It’s too late,” she repeated.
And she left.
Needless to say I didn’t do so well on my comps. Out of five exams, I had to rewrite three of them. There were moments when reading what I wrote you can actually see where my mind wandered away from the subject matter and got lost in my personal problems.
My 25th birthday came and went without notice, by me or anyone else.
A few months later I returned home to hear a voice message on my machine from her. She was confused, lost, and had changed her mind. She wanted me again.
Like every self-respecting man I did what I should have done and told her to take a long walk off a short pier, right? Yeah, I didn’t think you’d buy it either.
We went for a walk in a local park. It was the first time I’d spent any time with her since that fateful Sunday night. It was awkward, to say the least. The park had a river embankment, secluded, and we sat down to talk. Well, she sat down, and I leaned up against a tree.
“We had some good times, didn’t we?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I miss those times,” she said, not looking at me. She then turned to look at me, or rather, looked straight between my legs. “I miss those times, too.”
To this day I’m angry at how quickly my own body betrayed me. I grew rock hard, and there was no way of hiding it.
She was close, and reached up and placed the flat of her palm on my erection through my shorts. “I really, really miss them.”
She looked up at my face, then, seeing that I didn’t push her hand away. “Can… can I suck you again, for old time’s sake?”
Before I could answer my cock jumped in her hand, giving her the answer she needed. She reached in through one leg hole and retrieved my cock, standing strong and deep purple aimed directly at her face.
Before I could have told her “no,” her mouth was wrapped around my cockhead, sucking frantically. I hadn’t forgotten how good she was, and there was a thrill knowing that the woman who had betrayed me was now betraying the man she had left me for.
I started to smile to myself, a smile that she couldn’t see from where she was. If she had seen it, she would have likely stopped what she was doing. I was smiling knowing that she was going to be seeing him later, going to be kissing him with that mouth, and that fucker would get a kiss full of my cock. Asshole.
She worked the shaft masterfully, as always. She caressed my balls and pulled me deeper into her mouth. She was good, very good, and there was something more than satisfying watching my ex-girlfriend enjoying my cock once more with abandon.
Then she stopped. “I have to get back,” she said, and started moving back to the car.
Bitch! I tucked myself away and attempted to walk up the slope of the embankment – not easy to do with a rock-hard erection.
She had driven, and my car was at her place, so we returned to her house. We walked in the door, and she asked, “Do you want something to drink before you go?”
“I don’t think we’re done yet,” I said.
“Mike, I’m not going to fuck you,” she said.
Hell, you haven’t finished what you started! I thought. Nevertheless, that didn’t seem like the best way to get what I was after, so I tried a different tack.
“You can at least let me return the favor,” I suggested, coming up to her and running my fingers over her breasts.
Eileen had very sensitive nipples, and I knew that as soon as I could touch them she wouldn’t be able to say no. She liked them sucked, and sucked hard. Her breasts pushed into my palms, and my thumbs rubbed over her aching nipples. I kept one hand on a breast and moved the other down to her crotch, cupping it.
It was hot and damp. “Yes,” I said. “I think I should return the favor.”
Right there on the kitchen floor, I lay her down. I started unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her hips. She offered minimal resistance at first, but then lifted her hips so that they would slide off completely.
I reached up with one hand to keep a constant attack on her nipple while I dove straight for her pussy. She had the capacity to change her mind at any time and as long as I kept at least one nipple going, she wasn’t stopping me.
I licked her at the same time as squeezing her breast and nipple, my free hand sliding two fingers into her sopping pussy. Immediately her hips started bucking against my face, trying to rub her clit against my lips and tongue.
“Oh I missed this,” she kept repeating, over and over. “Mike, lick me, Mike.”
That’s it, baby. Say my name. Not Adam’s. My name!
I felt her body shudder a little, a tiny mini orgasm that was her usual precursor for a big one. With sudden force and determination, she rolled over and on top of me, her hands fumbling for my shorts. They didn’t get a quarter way down my thighs when I found my cock buried completely inside her.
Eileen’s favorite way to fuck was to slide back and forth on my cock, not up and down. She would rock her hips back and forth, scraping the head against her g-spot. She found she could do this and lean over my mouth and offer her breasts to me at the same time.
“Suck my tits!” she demanded, and I complied. I grabbed her breasts with both hands and latched my mouth around her nipple and sucked hard. My aim wasn’t only to show her what she had been missing, but I wanted to give her a hickey on her nipple that she would have to hide from Adam or explain. Asshole.
Even after several months, we found our old rhythm. Her hips rocked back and forth, her pussy clenching my cock with the grip of a vise. I moved to the other nipple to give it equal treatment.
The sensation of my mouth on the virgin nipple sent her into overdrive. She started sliding across my cock like a mad woman. “Touch my clit!” she growled. “Touch my clit!”
I slid one hand between us and found her protruding button with my thumb. Instantly I felt her entire body shake and convulse, its pattern very familiar to me. Her cunt grabbed my cock as tight as a fist and forced the come from my balls much faster and stronger than normal.
As I lay on my hotel bed, fifteen years later, with a long stream of hot come lying on my stomach in tune with the memory, I felt the conflicting emotions of weak victory over spraying the insides of Adam’s girlfriend with my come, knowing that she would kiss him with that cheating, cocksucking mouth, and the disgust with myself for allowing myself to be used at the same time. After all, she had asked for – and gotten – the best of both worlds. She was able to use me for her frustration and yet keep her carefully manipulated life intact whereas I was still picking up the pieces, both personally and professionally.
Fuck, I needed a drink.
I cleaned myself up and went to go find the nearest bar. Hell, this was Vegas, of course there was a bar within spitting distance.
It was still early, only about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, so the dinner traffic hadn’t quite yet started and I had the bar to myself.
“Zubrowka and apple juice,” I told the bartender.
“I thought margaritas were your drink,” came a voice behind me, sending chills up my spine.
“Still are,” I said, not looking around. “But I’ve expanded my repertoire.”
Eileen sat down beside me, cool, collected.
Now I really needed that drink!
“How have you been?” she asked.
Anything other than a standard greeting/response would have been meaningless, so I responded in kind. “Doing well,” I said. A pause, then, “And you?”
“Good,” she said. “Adam and I are now teaching computer science at a university in California,” she said. I had heard they had gotten married, with two kids now.
“So I heard,” I said. “Congratulations. That’s often difficult to do.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “It’s hard work, so these conferences are almost like a vacation for us.”
“So he’s here too?” I asked. “Where is he?”
“Oh, he’s got two more sessions today,” she said. “I’m killing time.”
What a treat.
We sat there, making idle chitchat while I downed my very expensive drink in two swallows and ordered another. Eileen did the same for hers.
Four drinks later each, and we were playing the “catch-up” game. No, I wasn’t married any more, no kids. Lived abroad, left academia to start my own company, then went to go work for a bigger company, yadda yadda yadda…
She sat there, and she talked about how she was thrilled with exactly the kind of life that she had told me (fifteen years ago, true) that she didn’t want for herself, about how routine and predictable her life had become, etc. With each drink she lost her guarded reserve and revealed that everything with Adam wasn’t going as she had hoped it would.
I sat and listened, mostly. The memories that I had replayed earlier were still fresh in my mind, and I kept placing us back in my living room on that fateful Sunday night. Bitch!
“You know what?” she said suddenly. “This stuff is expensive.”
I nodded.
“My university won’t cover all this. I have some more in my room. Let’s go where it’s cheaper.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She waved a finger. “No, no…” she said. She wasn’t slurring her words, even though it was evident that she was well on her way to happyland. “I just can’t afford to buy more drinks here.”
Since I wasn’t about to offer to buy her anything, I settled up my bill and followed her back to her room.
There’s something about going into a hotel room that has been freshly made up by the housekeeping staff, particularly if you’ve been in the room for a few days. You still have your stuff all over the place, but the bed is made even though it doesn’t look like it should have been. It seems oddly incongruous. I had a strong feeling that I really didn’t belong, but I didn’t make myself leave either.
“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the bed. The only chair in the room was occupied by a suitcase and clothing draped over the back.
I sat down, and she reached for the champagne in the weight-sensitive tray on the credenza. I opened my mouth to tell her that as soon as she touched it, she bought it (and at a far higher rate than the stuff we were drinking at the bar), but decided that it would be better poetic justice to keep my mouth shut.
Soon I had a drink in my hand, and she had one in hers. She finished it in one go. I don’t like champagne, so I refilled her glass from mine.
“Thank you,” she said. “Always the gentleman.”
I looked at her as if she had seven heads. Was this woman on alcohol, or crack?
She downed that glass as well, and took a big sigh. She looked at me with a sudden, no-nonsense look on her face.
“Mike,” she said. “Do you ever think about…” and trailed off.
Truth was that even though I had a good idea of what she was going to say, I had no intention of making it easy on her. I waited patiently, saying nothing.
Seeing that I was of no help, she continued. “About us?”
“Specifically?” I asked. I really wanted to know what she was going to say. Was she finally going to apologize after all these years? That seemed so drastically out of character for the woman I once knew.
One of her hands brushed her hair out of her face, and then dropped down to her breast, a movement which did not escape my notice.
“Eileen,” I said. “It’s been fifteen years…”
She sat upright, but her hand didn’t leave her breast. “So?” she asked, still keeping a twinge of light flirtation in her voice.
“You married Adam…”
Her eyes were bright. She may have had a lot of alcohol but she was definitely aware of what she was doing.
She started inching towards me.
“… and you have two kids now…”
“So?” she repeated. “Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t thought about the things we used to… do?”
With that last word she reached took her hand off her breast and placed it on my shoulder.
The touch ignited something in me, something primal. I was tired of her games, tired of her getting what she wanted.
I grabbed both of her wrists and held them tightly in my hands. She looked genuinely surprised, but not frightened.
“What are you doing, Eileen?” I snarled.
“I just wanted to…”
“Wanted to what?” I interrupted. “Wanted to see if I still pined for you after fifteen years”
“No…” she was trying to loosen her hands from my grip.
“What, then? Wanted to see if you could still make me get it up so you could feel like you still ‘got it?’ My voice was steel, icy.
“No, I…” her voice trailed off, and she looked down a little.
“Well?” I demanded. “What is it, you horny then? You need a good fuck?” I spat out.
She looked at me and her eyes flashed. “Yes!”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. I was so taken aback that I didn’t even know what to say.
She got off the bed and stood in front of me. She was breathing heavy, from desire, frustration, or anxiety I couldn’t be sure.
“Do you remember when I told you, years ago, that I was afraid that Adam couldn’t really give me what I wanted? That he was too dull to make me laugh, and that I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to truly satisfy me?”
That conversation rushed into my head with the force of a freight train. She had confided in me one night that she hadn’t been sure if she had made the right decision, something that I had tried to use to persuade her not to leave, to no avail.
I nodded.
“Well, I was right!” she said. Her eyes vivid but starting to well with tears. “How many women have you been with since me, Mike?”
The question took me by surprise. I honestly had no idea. In fifteen years, there had been several.
“A few,” I said.
“Yeah, a few,” she mimicked. “Well, after you there was only Adam. Always Adam. After fifteen years a mediocre lover doesn’t get better, Mike.”
“You made your choice,” I said, coldly.
She hung her head. She wasn’t the type to cry, she found it beneath her. “I don’t know what I expected,” she said. “I saw your name as a presenter in the program and you were the last man I had before Adam, and… and…” she trailed off.
“And you were curious.” It was a statement, a matter of fact. It was obvious to me now that she hadn’t thought it through, that nerves and excitement and nostalgia were all playing a violent dance in her head, leaving her disoriented.
I took a look at her. She looked exactly the same, even after fifteen years. She had kept her hair the same, she was the same weight, the same shape. She had a few deeper creases around the eyes but otherwise this was the same 25-year-old girl.
She straightened, and I knew she was going to say it was all a mistake and send me on my way. I was half tempted to simply allow it to end there, but the other half was full of rage and anger.
There was no way I was going to allow her this self-indulgence. No way I was going to allow her to use me once again for her own selfish emotional roulette wheel.
I reached out and grabbed her blouse and pulled it open, buttons flying everywhere. The violent gesture surprised us both; I had never acted that way before – not with her, not with anyone.
Her breasts were now visible to me, encased in a sheer bra with a fine mesh over her nipples. Before she could push me away and cover herself up, I pulled on the shirttails and brought her to me. As I was sitting on the bed and she had been standing, her breasts came towards me first.
I latched my mouth on to the closest nipple and started sucking like I remembered she used to like. Apparently she still did, as I felt her knees buckle a little and her hands go straight to my head. She started to push away a little, but she couldn’t make herself do it. There was no true resistance, though I could feel her body adjust and shift with each conflicting emotion within.
I grabbed her breasts violently, kneading them in my strong grip. Even when we had been together I had never been so forceful and I could see that now she wanted to be taken, wanted to give in despite her uncertainty.
The scent of her arousal assailed my nostrils, mixed in with some perfume. It dawned on me that she had perfumed her pussy “just in case,” and made a mental note of it. Eileen’s bra unclasped in the front, and I unsnapped it with two fingers, springing it open. I stood straight up, catching her off balance. As she started to shift her weight I arced my arm around her and redirected her onto the bed, face up. Her ripped blouse and open bra fell across her body, disheveled.
I climbed up on the bed next to her, my hands unbuckling her trousers. I pulled the fly open and jammed my fingers down her panties, through her light pubic hair, and cupped her mound. Bringing them out and up to my nose, I smirked, “You put perfume on.”
She started to blush, embarrassed. I forced my fingers down her pants and inserted two fingers inside her soaked pussy. “You expected this to happen, didn’t you?”
“No, I…” she tried to deny it, but I pulled up and across her g-spot with my fingers, interrupting her and causing her to arch her back violently.
“Don’t lie to me!” I said. Again the anger inside was just underneath the surface, just this side of pure rage.
I leaned over and took her nipple in my mouth. She placed her hands on the back of my head and pulled me to her chest, and I sucked harder. She screamed a little, and then started breathing heavy as i started fucking her pussy at the same time with my hand.
She was bucking her hips off the bed soon enough, trying to get more and more of my fingers inside her. I took the opportunity at that moment to pull her underwear and trousers down around her thighs. With those out of the way, I started fucking her pussy hard with my hand, putting another finger inside of her.
Now filled with three fingers and my vacuum pump of a mouth on her nipple, she was thrashing on the bed. The smell of pussy juice and perfume filled the small hotel room.
“Touch my clit!” she demanded.
Oh no you don’t! I thought. Not this time!
“What do you think this is?” I snarled at her, getting onto my knees but leaving my hand pumping away at her pussy. “Why would I ever want to make you come ever again, after what you did to me?”
“What… what do you mean?” she asked, looking at me confused.
This made me even angrier. “What do I mean? What do I mean!?”
With my free hand I unzipped my pants and pulled out my rigid cock. “Remember this, Eileen?” She eyed me hungrily, and nodded.
“I don’t think you do,” I said. I kept fucking her with one hand but placed the other onto her head. “I think you need to get reacquainted.”
Her mouth devoured me before I even finished the sentence, taking me by surprise.
“Been a while, Eileen?” I sneered. She lifted her head off to respond but I grabbed her hair and pulled her back over my cock. “Don’t stop. Take me in, bitch.”
The word came out before I could stop myself. I don’t know why I said it – I never said it. But I was livid, angry, rage coursing through my veins, adrenaline taking over. She stopped what she was doing and looked up at me, hurt.
I ran with it. “I said don’t stop!” and pulled my hand from her pussy. She whined and whimpered and started flailing with her arm to have me touch her some more. She finally managed to grab my wrist and pull it to her pussy.
“You want this, Eileen? You want this?” I jammed four fingers deep into her pussy and she screamed around my cock, then started breathing heavy. It was apparently a scream of pleasure because I felt her hand tugging at my wrist to fuck her harder.
“You don’t deserve this,” I said, and withdrew my hand. She whimpered around my cock, her eyes locked on mine but flickering over to my hand.
I brought the drenched hand up to my nose. “I’ll tell you what,” I said, calmly. “You have nice taste in perfume. It mixes well with your cunt.”
I drew the last word out. She hated that word. It was the kryptonite, the antidote to the poison. She stopped what she was doing and started to pull away. I knew what was going to happen next, reality would set in and she would call a halt to the whole thing. Again.
Not this time.
I grabbed her and rolled her over onto her front, and aimed my cock pointing directly at her pussy. Her pants were still down around her thighs, restricting her movement.
“No, wait,” she said.
“You should have thought of that sooner,” i snarled, and enter her in one full stroke. My balls rested on her clit, rubbing up against the hard nub. She always had a prominent one, and I swore I could feel it pressing against me.
“Oh!” she sighed. It didn’t sound like noise of someone wanted this to end.
“Do you want me to pull out?” I said, and reached around to pinch her nipples. I felt her pussy squeeze my cock as tightly as it used to.
“No,” she whined.
“I have to admit, Eileen,” I said, impressed. “You’re pretty tight for a woman who’s had two kids.”
“Th-thanks,” she said, grunting as I thrust into her again. My cock was iron, I don’t remember having been this hard before.
“Is this what you miss, Eileen?” I asked, withdrawing and then slamming inside her again, pinching her nipples. I was hunched over her, mounting her like the bitch in heat that she was.
“Yes,” she cried.
“You miss my cock?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“You don’t deserve my cock!” I shouted, and started pistoning in and out of her pussy as hard as I could. I wanted to fuck all of the aggression I had felt, all the pent-up frustration and pain, and empty all that inside of her more than my own ejaculation.
I stopped and withdrew, my cock resting, throbbing and bouncing against her entrance. “No!” she cried out. “Don’t stop! I’m close”
“Why not?” I demanded to know. “Why shouldn’t I leave you hanging at the worst possible moment? That’s what you did to me!”
I thrust my cock inside her and stroked her madly for several seconds, and then withdrew again to yet another cry of frustration.
“You couldn’t have picked a worst possible time, Eileen. You left me the day before my comps!”
I thrust into her and she yelped in pleasure and surprise, but I could tell she was hanging on every word. I smacked her ass with my cock buried inside her and I felt her pussy contract involuntarily.
“The day before, you bitch!” I smacked her other cheek. She squeezed again and moaned. I grabbed her reddening ass with both hands and pressed my cock into her up to the base of the shaft.
To my surprise she pressed her ass back up against my pelvis, trying to drive me in deeper. I felt a slight tremor run through her as she tried to squeeze my cock tighter from the inside. I slapped her ass cheek, harder than before.
“Don’t you come,” I warned. “Don’t you dare come. You don’t deserve to come, after what you did to me!”
She collapsed her head onto her arms and mumbled something. “What?” I asked, fury coating my voice. No answer. “What did you say?”
“Please,” she said, whimpering. I could feel her body trying to angle my cock into the right position. She was getting closer and I did not want her to.
I pulled out until just the head was inside her. “Why?” I asked, shocked to find my voice was more pleading than fierce. I slapped her ass again. “Why did you do that to me? Did you know I nearly failed?”
“No,” she whimpered, but her body was trying to suck me in again. I struck her other ass cheek, a huge red welt starting to appear, but her pussy grabbed at me in gratitude. I was infuriated – she was only trying to say what she thought I wanted to hear.
I grabbed her hips and thrust into her again, making her yelp. Immediately she tried to fuck me, get the release she wanted. Incensed I slapped her thigh this time. “And my birthday. How could you do it just two days before my birthday!”
“Oh God,” she mumbled into her forearm, but I heard her clearly enough.
I pushed her down completely flat onto the bed and lay on top of her, putting my face right next to her ear. I pulled her hair, hard, to the side and growled low right next to her face.
“Is this what you miss, Eileen?” I thrust my cock inside of her for emphasis.
“Yes,” she said. Her breath was hot and sweet.
“You could have had this,” I hissed.
“I know,” she stuttered.
“You have no one else to blame but yourself.”
“I know.” She was close to tears, but the way her body moved against me it was still mostly from frustration.
“You miss the sex, don’t you?”
She nodded. I pulled her hair and her head lifted off the bed. “Say it!” I demanded.
“I miss the sex with you.” I slowly moved in and out of her, keeping the pacing low enough so that she couldn’t get the orgasmic rise she craved.
“What’s the matter, bitch. Didn’t get what you asked for when you dumped me?”
“No.” It was a whimper of a confession, an acknowledgment aloud that she had probably refused to make, even to herself. The tears were starting to well up now, and I was close enough to see them. For the first time in fifteen years I felt… better.
“Did your worst fears come true? Can Addy-boy not satisfy you?”
“N-no…” her voice trailed off.
“Maybe that’s your punishment, you bitch. You got what you deserved.” I started to pull out of her and lift my body up.
Her face turned to me, wild-eyed and panicked. “No!” she yelled. “Don’t stop. Don’t leave me like this! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
She was crying now, but she lifted her ass to try to find my throbbing cock. She held her hips off the bed, open and ready to be impaled. Redness coated her ass and thighs, marks that would take hours to dissipate, to vanish completely. There would be some explaining to do. I wished I could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.
Her hand suddenly appeared between her legs, rubbing her clit. I was surprised – when I knew her she said she never masturbated. I suppose fifteen years with a crappy lover will drive anyone to masturbation.
I leaned in and took her earlobe in-between my teeth while reaching underneath her to pinch her nipple. My cock brushed against her cunt and I could feel her hand desperately grabbing for it to stuff it back inside.
“You miss coming with me?” I asked as sweetly as I could. It sounded sinister.
Her body shuddered. “Yes, I miss coming with you.”
“Do you remember the first time you ever came during sex?”
She turned ashen. She was a smart girl, and knew where this was going. The first time she had ever had an orgasm during sex was when I had suggested that we try anal play. She hadn’t really ever liked it per se, which I found strange because not only did it provide her the orgasm that she hadn’t been able to have before, but opened whatever block she had to having an orgasm through regular sex.
“Yes,” she said. Her eyes staring straight forward.
I took my cock in my hands, completely soaked with her bodily fluids, and felt for her ass with my fingers to guide it.
“Do you remember how intense it was?”
“Y-yes…”
I started to press my thumb inside her ass, priming it and making it ready for my cock right behind it. She sucked in her teeth and gasped.
“I should leave you right now,” I said, but I slid the cockhead into her sphincter.
“No, don’t leave,” she said, and I could feel her legs shaking. She wanted to get away and press back into me at the same time.
“You deserve it,” I said, and felt the head pop just behind her tight wall.
“I know,” she said, her cheeks wet with tears.
“What kind of woman leaves a man the day before his comps?” Another inch
“A bitch. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What kind of woman leaves a man two days before his birthday?” Another inch.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” she was mumbling repeatedly now.
“You better be sorry,” I said, starting to fuck her ass. She was moving back and forth against my cock now, locked tightly inside her body.
“I’m sorry… so sorry.”
I picked up the pace. “That’s not good enough, Eileen.” I slapped her ass, and she groaned.
She was fucking me more than I was fucking her now.
“I’m a bitch,” she said. I slapped her ass again. I could feel myself getting close too, and fifteen years hadn’t masked the telltale signs of her oncoming orgasm either.
“No you’re not, you’re not a bitch. What are you?” I was fucking her deliberately slow, trying to prevent her from finishing. I needed this… this conquest. I needed to reclaim something I had lost fifteen years ago.
I couldn’t help myself and I started increasing my speed, long deep strokes into her ass. The lubricant that her pussy had provided was starting to wear off and the friction was becoming uncomfortable to me, as I know it was to her too. Nevertheless, she kept fucking my cock with her ass.
“I’m sorry, I said I was sorry.” Another slap.
“Not good enough, Eileen!” Slap.
“I’m a bitch! I said I was a bitch!” Her breathing was extremely heavy and the words weren’t coming easy.
I pulled her hair with one hand and slapped again, pounding into her ass now.
“What are you. Say it! Say what you are!” Pull. Slap.
She was fucking me at breakneck speed, and I knew that I was done. I could feel the beginnings of a powerful force tearing through my hips and balls and only seconds away.
“I’m a cunt!” she roared and slammed her ass back on my cock, the walls echoing her depraved confession in both our ears. Her entire body shook and convulsed as her orgasm took hold of mine, drawing it out of my body with such a violence that I, too, yelled at top volume. I could feel the ropes of come fire into her ass, never slowing down. It was as if i was marking some perverted territory that I had once lost.
I felt primeval, neanderthal. The rage and anger left me, hitchhiking along with my ejaculate and emptied into her body, the justified vessel and target for my inner demons. I had kept it in, held it in, where it festered and metamorphosized into something unhealthy, something animalistic.
Looking down I saw her body still quivering from the immense power of her orgasm which appeared to still have aftershocks. I saw water fall onto her ass from where I was, and touched my cheeks to find that it was my tears, not her sweat, that coated her back and ass. I don’t know how long I had been crying, or how much, but I wasn’t truly surprised.
I withdrew from her body and went into the bathroom. Taking a cloth I soaked it and gave myself a quick cleansing – a proper one would have to wait until I got back to my own room.
She still lay on the bed as I had left her, her ripped blouse and open bra falling almost comically askew, her trousers bunched down around her knees, her body still quivering from the emotional, physical and sexual outburst. Her breasts and ass were beet red, almost glowing in contrast to her pale white skin.
I almost felt sorry for her, but I realized that she had left me in a metaphorically similar state years ago, a state that had lasted for years. I choked down the urge to try to comfort her as I would have done once before. It was hard, because I just showed her a side of me that neither of us ever knew existed.
She just watched me as I redressed, not saying a word. My own tears had stopped now, and I was beginning to feel the beginnings of a resigned peace. It was as if a demon attached to my soul for so long that I didn’t even realize was still there was suddenly exorcised. I needed this, had to have this, in order to finally let it go.
“We all make choices in life,” I finally said, after gathering everything. “I hope you can live with yours.”
She was a smart woman and would understand the multiple meanings of what I said, and that, too would haunt her. I left her lying on the bed, not touching her in my departure. I wanted her to feel as she had left me so many years before: used and discarded. It dawned on me that I was wrong at first: I hadn’t gotten rid of my demon altogether, I had just passed it on to her.
I left her hotel room and as I walked down the corridor I thought about how she would have to face Adam, who should be done with his sessions very soon, her kids and how she would face them. I realized she might get a divorce, though I doubted it, but then it occurred to me that I really didn’t care. She had never shown any remorse, had never apologized for what she did, never even acknowledged that what she did was wrong, until she was so debased that she couldn’t function without doing so. In a strange way, it was just as cathartic for her as it was for me, though in different ways.
By the time I got to my hotel room and showering I was humming to myself. I hadn’t felt this good in years. I looked down and found myself getting hard again at the memory of her desperately grabbing for my cock. The memory of sliding into her ass was fresh and I started stroking myself. This wasn’t going to be a huge orgasm for me, but rather a quick one, and as I felt the come erupting from my cock onto my fingers I heard the echo of Eileen’s confession:
“I’m a cunt!”