You pick me up, your large hands spanning my waist as you lift me, pinning me against the wall with your body.
I spread my legs and wrap them around your waist, feeling you slide your hips forward, holding me against the brick. I can feel my shirt snag on the rough surface as you heft me slightly.
Your cock is hard, hot through the thin material of my shorts. Your lips burn my skin, your tongue tracing my salty flesh. I groan, letting the sound loose in the night.
In response, you move impossibly closer. Your chest is hard against mine, my breasts crushed against the planes and muscles, tight beneath your T-shirt.
We’re thrusting uselessly through our clothes and all I can do is pant breathlessly in your hear, begging you for more, for release, for relief.
My nails dig into your shoulders as I finally find your lips. Oh God, I kiss you. I suck your tongue into my mouth, my legs tightening around you, wanting you inside me.
With a low growl, you pull away from me, lowering me to my feet. There’s barely any room between us as your hands unfasten my shorts and tug them down. They tumble to the ground as my fingers find your cock and free it.
You don’t make a sound as I stroke your hard flesh, my hand wrapped around you tightly, just the way I know you like it. As I rub my thumb over the tip, you finally groan somewhere deep in your chest.
Batting my hand away, you grab me again and lift me, your fingers digging into my ass as you slide me onto you, impaling me.
It’s like it always is: wild and uncontained. You thrust harder and harder, my skin clinging to you. I can feel the brick biting into my ass, know that when we’re finished it will be red and raw, bruised from the force of your fingers.
Suddenly, we’re sinking. You’re on your knees then your back and I’m on top of you, my knees digging into the sand beneath us. You go deeper, always deeper. I grind down into the coarse grains in an effort to make you part of me, inhale you, devour you.
The sand is in your hear, painting the dark strands with pale blond. Your eyes are closed and your mouth open as you gasp for air. Your hands have moved to my hips as you grind up and into me.
I throw my head back as it hits me. Every time with you is like this. Rushed and painful and like heaven, full of heat. You come then I come, like crashing waves, and I sigh with pleasure. You do this to me every time, fill me and fulfill me. I lean down and kiss you, covering your mouth with my own. You whisper my name into the kiss, the way you always used to, the way that sends shivers along my spine.
You push me away from you and I struggle to my feet, tugging my shorts up as I do. My knees are raw, my body sore. You get up as well, brushing sand from your body.
You don’t look at me as you fasten your jeans. I’m used to this part as well, used to the coldness that belies the heat we’ve just bathed in.
I reach out and squeeze your hand, as close as we get to goodbye. Wincing slightly as the pain sets in, feeling the bruises and the scrapes you’ve caused, I edge around the building, back to the bright lights bathing the beach in fake sunlight.
Moments later I see you walk back to the party, looking like nothing has happened, like you haven’t just taken me against the wall. You move to her side, wrapping your arm around her waist as if all you are is her loving boyfriend.
I move closer to him, letting him unknowingly copy your posture as the two of you walk over to join us. We smile politely, all of us friendly, all of us ignoring the cool undercurrent that’s been between us since high school.
She’s beautiful, your new girlfriend. You two are a sharp contrast, the suggestion of sex so obvious, like a tangible sense between you. Soft flares of jealousy ripple through me, and I hate them, resent them. Resent her.
He tightens his arm around me, his fingers digging into my side. They’re weak and ineffectual; nothing like yours when they bite into me, nothing like the harsh pain your pleasure brings me.
We all make small talk, enjoying the party, mocking everyone in the way we’ve always done. She fits in, mocks with the best of us. I want to hate her, as much as I wish I could like her. Instead, I just focus on you. Your hand is on her waist, and all I can think of is how it feels when it covers my breast, when you touch me.
“What?” I look up at him, realizing that I’ve been lost in you, yet again.
He rambles on about something and I pretend to pay attention, just like I always do. Your eyes burn into me as you watch me answer his inane question.
All I can think about is how much I want to disappear, drag you behind the building and fuck you again. I want to feel you inside me. I want to straddle you. I want to sink to my knees and suck your cock so deep into my throat.
You lean toward her and nuzzle her neck, your eyes still on me. I laugh at something he says, playing the part. She laughs as well, batting you away from her. I burn to have you touch me again, and she’s pushing you away.
He gestures toward the bar and the four of us walk over there, moving close to the booze, away from the lights, toward the brick building you ground me against. The denim of my shorts scrapes my tender skin, keeping me on the perpetual edge of arousal.
They move away from us, volunteering to get the drinks. When they’re walking away, I take a step toward you and touch your arm. You barely turn your head, but I know you see me, see through me.
“I want to fuck you again.”
You smile just enough and a hot shot of lust ricochets through me. Your eyebrow raises, making it worse.
I step closer, watching them to make sure they’re still out of earshot. “I want your tongue so far inside me, you can taste my thoughts. I want my nails digging into your ass as I suck your cock…” I break off as they approach us.
He hands me a drink and I sip it, wetting my parched throat. My hands are shaking, but I know he won’t notice. He never notices, even though our history should only serve to make him wonder when we both disappear from a room. Fortunately for me, his own arrogance refuses to allow him to notice.
You let her move back into your arms, but she can’t hide your erection, your desire for me. I smile, letting him think that it’s for him, when we both know that it’s for you.
Her hand caresses you and my smile changes, clenched teeth barely hidden behind thin lips. She doesn’t care that we’re out in public as her hand smoothes over your erection, drawing my eye there once again.
She’s touching you like I want to touch you, her red nails caressing skin that belongs to me. His arm goes around my shoulder, forcing my mind back to the present, the conversation, back to him.
You’re debating something with him, both of you certain that you’re right. She’s listening and laughing, insinuating herself against you. I hate that I gave up that right, that privilege. Instead, I’ve learned to resort to back street liaisons, accepted the fact that all you’ll ever give me of yourself is the length of your cock.
I never wanted to walk away, but when it ended for us, when you ended us after I ended us, I didn’t have a choice. But you’re an addiction. I knew then that I couldn’t live without your touch, your taste.
I was always disloyal. To you, when I still thought I owed him, he owned me. And now to him. Always to him. Every time he touches me, I remember you. I want you.
I want you now.
Your gaze is locked on me, the fire between us there, as well as burning inside me. It’s like something from a science fiction movie, taking me over.
“There’s Mike. I’ve got to talk to him.” You speak the words like they mean nothing, but I hear it behind them, hear the need, the invitation.
It’s the only thing that keeps me from killing myself, the fact that you’re just as desperate as I am.
We all watch you walk off, making small talk, completely inconsequential, until a significant amount of time has past and I look up at him.
“You want to refill this for me?” I hand him my cup. “I’m going to go to the rest room.”
“I’ll tag along.”
I smile at her, hating her. “Sure.”
We walk to the bathrooms, and I catch your eye, desperate in so many ways.
She disappears into one of the stalls and I’m about to do the same when your hands grab me. We’re in the stall in an instant, one hand over my mouth, the other rubbing the soaked crotch of my shorts. I close my eyes, practically rolling them back in my head as your fingers slip beneath the material and sink inside me.
“Are you alright?”
I force my teeth apart and lick your palm before I answer your girlfriend’s question. “Sure. Fine.”
I open my eyes and look into yours, seeing the laughter brimming in the story blue. You sink down onto the toilet seat, tugging my shorts down for the second time tonight. Your tongue steals inside me, and I draw blood as I bite my lower lip, struggling not to make a noise.
“Joey? Should I wait for you?”
“No,” I croak out. “Go a… Go ahead.”
The door shuts behind her and I shove you away, my hands hard on your shoulders. Unsteady on your feet, you stumble back, your head hitting the stall door and sending it flying open; leaving you sprawled out on the floor.
I straddle your legs and undo your jeans. Your cock feels just as good this time, better knowing that it’s coated with my earlier orgasm.
You moan as I take you in my mouth, sucking hard at the firm flesh. It’s hot and frenzied, frantic. You’re lying on the ladies room floor, my mouth wrapped around you. Your hands are in my hair, tangling in the dark strands, guiding me, holding me. Your hips buck off the floor and I cup your balls with one hand, massaging them.
“Aw fuck,” you groan as you come, the hot, salty wave coursing down my throat. I continue sucking until your body is wracked with hot shudders and you beg me to stop.
I start to climb off of you, but you grab me and pull me back down, wrestling me underneath you. You slither down my body and I trap your head between my thighs.
I’m quivering before your tongue even finds my clit, wet before you touch me. My heels dig into your back as you fuck me with your tongue, feasting on me like some gourmet dessert.
I bite the heel of my fist as I come, determined not to scream and bring everyone flooding in here.
You help me to my feet and we pull our clothes back into place. I’m still hungry for you, but I know that we’ve gotten close to going too far. I pull the stall door shut and lean on it, looking up at you.
This time you meet my eyes and smile at me, sated but still wanting more. “Better hurry back to your boyfriend.”
“There’s another party…next weekend.” I lick my lips, tasting him still. “Booze, bonfires…dark corners to fuck in.”
“Doesn’t he notice?”
“No.” I can tell that it pisses you off. You want him to notice. Hell, I want him to notice.
“Well then, next weekend, we’ll have to see if we can’t make it a little more obvious.” You pull me to you and kiss me, leaving my lips feeling as bruised as my ass. You turn me around and use your hand to force me against the door. You tug my shorts down and stare at my ass, running your fingers over the scrapes from the brick.
I’m getting hot again. “I can barely feel them when you’re fucking me.” I’m breathless as you stroke them, practically coming.
“And he doesn’t notice?” Your voice isn’t disbelieving, you know him as well as I do. “Your ass is as red as a fucking apple and he doesn’t notice. How do you fuck him?”
“I don’t.” I say it simply enough. “Not until the pain goes away.”
You slap my ass lightly, sending a shiver of pain and pure fucking pleasure through me. “Next weekend, we’ll make sure it lasts then, huh?”
You release me and angle the door open, leaving me in the stall alone, my shorts in the middle of my thighs, my ass hanging out. I stare after you, watching you walk back to her, and all I want to do is fuck you again.
Next weekend can’t get here soon enough.