After over two years, my better judgement finally bested out my mother's guilt. I was ready. I dropped my son off at my sister's house for the night and went back home to prepare myself for the evening my friends had in store for me.
I stared in the mirror at myself for countless minutes. The stretch marks that patterned my stomach made me feel less attractive, although my thick ass has been covered in stretch marks for years. These marks were different, had special meaning. They marked me as other in the world of the young, wild and free to roam the night. Or so I thought.
After I got over myself and new found insecurities, I clothed myself simply as I had become recently accustomed. A simple wrap dress with plunging neckline draped my stretch mark covered frame. I swear I have to get over that. I wore simple wedges, as I had forgotten how to walk in heels. Light makeup and a bold lip. My new favorite way to express myself.
My friends took me to a club. A fucking club. I don't remember the last time I went to a club. I grew out of them in college. But they were chauffeuring me around and buying the drinks so I didn't complain. Occasionally my gaze would meet that of an attractive man and my friends would notice and try to nudge me on, but my confidence wasn't there yet. Hell, I could barely dance to my favorite songs the way my before baby self would.
That was until drink 5 set it. With tequila coursing thru my veins, I began to flirt with anything with a penis, or that I found remotely attractive. Sometime I was unaware of what I was doing, other times it was so blatant I shocked myself. One gentleman in particular found my flirty antics extra amusing and decided to chat me up a bit. He was tall, chocolate and awkward, like me, and fueled by that fire water.
I told him I had so much fun flirting with him that I didn't give a FUCK about his wedding ring. His mood dropped for a second and he spun his ring around his finger.
"I didn't realize I still had this on." he said, almost in a daze.
"Oh, you normally take it off before you go out trying to snag poontang?" I drunkingly said. I've seen Noah's Arc far too many times.
"It's nothing like that. My wife died, about six months ago." My face fell. I truly felt like an asshole. "My friends dragged me out and deserted me. I tried to tell them it was too soon."
"I'm sorry. My comments seem so insensitive now." I muttered genuinely, "At least I helped put a smile on your face." I said smiling before I touched his elbow and walked away. He grabbed me by the arm and snatched me back with such force that I got mad and panties got a little wet. "I don't know the last time a man grabbed me like that. Watch out there now..."
"You expect me to believe you have nobody touching on you?"
"First, I hate that weak ass "I know somebody touching/talking/fucking you" or whatever bullshit. Secondly, I don't give a fuck what you believe. I have no reason to lie to you."
"Fiesty, huh? So why haven't you been being touched?" He asked, playfully grabbing my elbow again.
"Well, I had a baby. And his daddy is, well, gone. I've busied myself with raising him. My friends said enough and made me come out tonight."
"Well, how old is he?"
"Two."
"Two? You kept your ass inside for two whole years?"
"Yup."
"Why?"
"Motherhood." And so on and so forth with one word questions and answers. We were intoxicated for the first time in a long time. Tolerance was on some bullshit.
"So what are your plans for the night" he said, blocking the monotony.
"Staying out as late as possible, drinking as much as I can tolerate, taking my drunk ass to Waffle House and then to enjoy an empty bed for the first time in a long time." I responded, not aware of where this was going.
"I like ratchet breakfast places. I'm tired of my empty bed though..." he said, leaving an open invitation. Just then, my best friends walked up and made themselves more acquainted with my new found friend, whose name I didn't know. I sipped my drink not paying attention to what my friends were saying. I didn't have time to worry about how they might embarrass me today. I've overcome enough new mommy obstacles for the day.
"Brandi, mind if Marcus joins us for breakfast?" This snapped me back to reality. What did I miss? What embarrassment was yet to come? What they hell were they up to?
"Not at all." I said gulping down what was left of my drink.
Breakfast was a fucking set up. My friends jetted on me just as soon as we walked in that bitch. Pet emergencies and being called into work last minute. Yea, you got called in at 4 am. Hmph.
We chuckled through breakfast and learned some oddities about each other. He was a social worker, I'm in the non profit sector. He and his wife wanted kids but it never happened. After that we tried to keep it light. Favorite colors and foods.
He grabbed the check as I fumbled awkwardly through my purse. I fully intended to contribute to the minor damage I did but...oh well. What comes next? I quickly remembered I had been abandoned by my friends carless and Marcus reminded me of how lonely his bed was.
When we walked through the door to his townhouse, our drunk minds and hands wasted no time stripping us down bare. The feel of someone else's mouth on mine triggered long lost memories of the wonderful world of SEX. I lusted and longed for the next time his tongue would invade my mouth, leaving traces of its warm moisture behind. Our hands roamed frantically across our naked frames, feeling body parts we had long forgotten existed. My curious hands tugged at his manhood, growing exponentially in each passing second. My body was long overdue for sex, but the length of time between my last session and the length of his member made me question if I was built for this.
Strong arms gripped my thighs and pulled them around an even stronger waist. My ass was dropped on the kitchen counter while Marcus browsed his cabinets for something to make the night more exciting. He returned with chocolate and caramel syrup and I made a run for it. Searching frantically for the bathroom, he found me and cornered me in the shower. My body was assaulted with the flowing of warm sticky liquids followed by a tongue lapping them up. I stood shivering in the tub, sticky and unsure of my next move. His lips returned to my mouth and I pushed him off and pinned him against the wall. Some of my sticky sweetness found its way to him thru contact and I left trails of my saliva behind as I licked it off, trailing down to the part of him I was most afraid of. I stared at it, eye to eye before venturing to touch it with my mouth. I tentatively teased the tip, coaxing myself to take more and more of him into my mouth. I soon found a familiar tongue twirling rhythm and stayed there until my son's potential siblings dripped down my chin.
Rising up, I cut the shower head on to wash the remainder of the syrup off of me. It made me feel too dirty. Joining me under the flow of warm water, our mouths met again and my legs found their new home around his waist. Cutting the water off, he dragged me out of the shower and wrapped us both in towels. He led me to his once lonely bed, where he dried my body and massaged it with the sweetest smelling oil. As he was massaging my backside, his hands dipped and ventured to a place that had long forgotten human touch. My bottom rose in anticipation of human contact giving him the perfect angle to explore me with his tongue. I tried to escape further and further up the bed until I was pinned at the headboard writhing in pleasure. I turned to meet his face and push him over. Instinctively, I jumped on top of him and began to grind. Slowly at first as my body became reacquainted with such and invasion, such a feeling. I rose up to my feet and began bouncing and popping all on him. I bounced and fell with such force that he pushed me off and climbed out the bed.
I braced myself for what came next. He returned, condom on, laid me on my back and began stroking me like he was buttering bread. Slow and deliberate. Deep and concentrated. My hips rose up to meet him and encourage him to move faster and faster. I struggled to keep up but did not falter. He pulled my bottom up off the bed and grabbed at it frantically before grabbing one handful of a side and swinging me over. On my hands and knees. I continued to meet each of his deliberate attacks on the softest part of me. I swung my head as if my tresses were long and touched my ass occasionally as a way to keep my head in the game. Make sure I maintained the syncopated beat, adding my own accents in all the right places. Both of us neared our place of explosion and could no longer hold our bodies up. We fell to the bed, on our sides. I swung one leg behind and over his hip, pulling his thigh between my legs. We slowly rubbed up against each other and kissed over my shoulder until we reached our highest point at almost synchronized times.
For the first time in six months Marcus didn't have to sleep alone, and for the first time in too many years I didn't care that I wasn't alone.
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