Just One Drink (45 page)

This time around, he did me with my legs pushed up, my ankles held in place around my ears by my husband, pushing into me until I nearly fainted with pleasure. This time around, however, I didn't quite make it all the way up to the splendid heights of orgasm, falling just short of the mark- which isn't to say I was wholly disappointed as I unleashed his hot essence inside me, filling me up with himself, and at last pulling out, and leaving me shivering in my own sweat.

And that was because now, my husband was mounting me in turn, flipping me over and climbing onto my body like an animal, and pushing himself inside me through the wake of my other lover's molten essence, a natural, perverse lubricant.

And he began to thrust, to dig, to drill deeper and harder into me than ever, tearing screams of sweet pleasure from my throat, causing my head to bang with his bolting thrusts and making me burn with each upping of intensity. Again and again and again he pelted down into my deepest depths, continually reaching further and further in than I thought was humanly possible, and at last slamming down like a hammer, holding steady, and unleashing.

And as he filled me yet again, I was pushed successfully past the point of my own endurance, my head racing, my heart thundering, and every damn nerve ending in my body lighting up with shock. I groaned, and moaned wildly, every ounce of me on fire with want and lust and satisfaction, and my union with my two lovers the sweetest, most wonderful thing in the world.

At last, Daniel pulled out of me as well, and Derek added himself onto the pile. The three of us twisted together, making out tenderly and dissolving into one another for some time in the afterglow, drunk on one another's company, and simply unable to get enough.

And good God, was it wonderful...

It wasn't for a couple of weeks after that that I discovered I was pregnant that Daniel and I had been discussing, which, under normal circumstances, would have been great- except I had no earthly idea

to whoto which of the two men was the child's father...

THE END

1

“How about him?” I asked, leering down across the bar to a man whose face was only half-lit, the other half in shadow.

“Who?” asked Derrick, squinting, right in the direction of the dude, yet somehow failing to ascertain all the same who I was referring to.

“That guy, right there! The one I'm pointing to...” I outstretched a finger in his direction, having wished to resist any need for pointing, given that it would have given away, more or less, what the two of us were attempting to accomplish. Discretion, I knew, without a doubt, was a must.

Derrick leaned in, following the trail of my finger with his eyes. Finally, he seemed to catch on to the man to whom I was pointing, and he studied him carefully, his eyes roving up and down along the surface of his body. Finally, after an extensive degree of consideration, he shook his head. “No, no... No, I don't think so, sorry...”

“What? Why, what's wrong with him?” I insisted, turning to look at my boyfriend with a raised eyebrow, thinking that at this point he must be splitting hairs rather than finding any sort of legitimate fault with these men.

“God, I don't know... I've never really given this sort of thing much thought until now, you know? I don't really have a specific reason, it's just a vibe... He just... He doesn't seem... No...”

“Oh come on, there's got to be some sort of reason. I mean, I really don't give a damn what it is as far as that goes, but knowing it would be helpful so I can decide what the hell I should be looking for that apparently distinguishes these men from one another in your mind. We're going to be here for hours at this rate, and my birthday only lasts until midnight you know...”

“I know, I know, alright... It's just a lot of pressure for me, is all. I'll try, I promise I'll try... Now, uh... Let me see... Um... I think, maybe... Maybe it's how he's dressed. I don't know. He seems like a damn hipster or something. He's too neat. Too thin. And those God-awful glasses...”

“See, that wasn't so hard now was it? I knew I could eventually get you objectifying men if I tried hard enough. Okay, well, I'll keep that in mind... Now, um... How about that guy?”

“What guy?”

“The one, next to the last guy I pointed to, the hipster, but two seats down.”

“That's a chick... I mean, I'd totally be up for you and another chick...”

I gave him a pissed off look, but I couldn't help but allow the corners of my lips to curl up into a sarcastic smile at the remark. “No, gorgeous, let's save that discussion for when your birthday rolls around... I'm talking about the other side of the guy than what you're apparently looking at.”

“Sorry, she just had a great rack. I couldn't help but let my eyes be drawn to it...” I slapped him on the chest, and he laughed nervously, which was good, because I think we needed to diffuse the tension between the two of us just a bit in that moment.

“Hey, if you're teaching me to objectify men, I should at least be able to give equal treatment to women shouldn't I?” I didn't dignify this with an answer aside from another sarcastic glance, and he picked up readily on the hint, turning back toward where I'd directed him, and reverting to his scholarly, on-the-prowl consideration. “Alright, alright, alright... Ummmm, let me look again. The guy two seats down, the guy two seats down... Oh, I see him now... Hmmmm... yeah, no...”

“What? But you barely looked at him? He seems perfect to me...” I was getting a little bit exasperated at this point, which I knew to be wholly unreasonable on my part, but I think it stemmed from sort of the same nervousness as Derrick felt, even if it did happen to be expressed a bit differently.

His mode of operation was to prolong the inevitability of selection for as long as possible, to put off the decision that was getting him worked up, whereas I wanted to know who we'd be going with as soon as humanly possible, in order to bite the bullet of making the initial choice, not to mention diminishing the likelihood of my going through with it once the choice had been made.

“God, I don't know Katie... I told you, I don't have reasons for all of this... It's not something I have any sort of direct sense for, because I've never had to look at a guy with this sort of eye before. It's a huge change in my mode of thinking, don't you think?”

“You don't have to go through with this, you know...” I said, looking more annoyed than ever, and certainly more so than I had any right to do. But of course, even as I said this, I knew it was only half true. I mean, no, he didn't actually
have
to do anything. But by this point it was pretty much an expectation on my part, and I would have been hella disappointed if he'd wimped out at this point and backed out of our arrangement. This was, after all, his main gift to me this year, and it would have been wholly unreasonable of him to deny me that which he'd promised.

But, at the same time, I'm not going to act like I couldn't sympathize with his point of view. Had the shoe been on the other foot, and he wanted me to indulge his fantasy in an equal and opposite manner (as he'd just alluded to a few moments before,) it might not have been so difficult for me.

I'd always, admittedly, had something of a curious streak, even if only a very mild one, but if it had been something he'd desired of me, say for a one-time thing, I might have agreed pretty damn readily to go through with it, and not feel nearly as put out by the fact of being asked to choose a third, female bedfellow.

Nevertheless, he seemed to be going into this like a champ, and though he sighed in exasperation, I could see him really attempting to make an effort on my behalf as he turned back in the direction of the stranger across the bar. “No, no, I still want to do this for you... Just, let me think, alright? Um... I think that guy's problem is that he's too hairy or something... Bulky... Poorly kept, and all that...”

“Wait, now... You just said that the exact opposite of that was the problem with the man two seats down. Like literally ten seconds ago, you were pointing out all the opposites as issues, and now you're just reversing it...”

“Look, I told you it's not a science, alright? I know it's stupid, that's just how I feel!” he was getting pretty damn flustered at this point, and perhaps understandably so. My initial impulse was to tear right back into him in response, to argue just as vehemently that he needed to get on the damn ball with this, and that he was making me more and more nervous as the moments ticked by.

But I somehow succeeded, then, in calming myself down, getting my act together and gaining my composure. I considered his point of view once again, and tried to put myself in his shoes. Although I felt I would have been far more comfortable in the reverse situation, as mentioned previously, I tried to envision his own discomfort, and it became far easier to guess what he must be going through.

As much as I might have wanted quick and easy results with this, I knew that rushing him into anything he wasn't comfortable with would just cause the whole thing to blow up in my face- and not at all in the kinky sense of the phrase that I genuinely wanted.

“Alright, alright... You're right, I'm sorry...” I peered into my drinkless glass and brought it up to my lips, letting the ice cubes slosh down along toward my lips, hoping for a small trickle of liquid to still remain in order to quench my parched gullet.

There was indeed a very thin trickle, but it was just water, melted ice at this point, and it did next to nothing whatsoever in terms of satisfying me. I sat my glass back down onto the bar and thought for a moment, sighing heavily until an idea occurred to me.

“How about this,” I proposed. Derrick turned to me attentively. “How about if we just sit and wait for a while and see who else comes in, and you can try to look for someone who would work for you instead of me pointing out a bunch of guys at random. And then we can see if we agree on things from there...”

Derrick turned away for a moment, mulling this over, I could tell, and then turned back to me, smiling slightly. “Yeah... Yeah, I think that might work, babe... Thank you...” And at this he leaned in and kissed me on my forehead, a very sweet gesture, but one which did little if anything to mitigate my irritation. I forced a smile all the same, my cheeks actually straining with the effort for the duration of his eyes being pointed in my direction.

When at last he turned away again to continue scouting, that forced smile converted pretty damn quickly into a slight scowl of distaste, and I looked over at the bartender, holding up two fingers to signal a request for a refill.

Then, however, I looked back over at Derrick, and my feelings once again softened immensely. I couldn't be mad at the poor bastard. That poor, beautiful bastard... I knew he was going the extra mile for me, and far, far past that, really, if I was brutally honest about it. Not every man would suffer so easily being asked the request that I'd put upon him, much less actually going about trying to indulge it.

He was, I knew, completely in the right in his hesitance, and my impatience was prompted solely by my nervousness and insecurity.

Our refilled drinks soon arrived, and I took a long, deep swig of alcohol, letting it soothe my nerves to an extent, and trying to reflect on how very lucky I was to have him, rather than on how ridiculously nervous the prospect of actually going through with this was making me.

Derrick... That beautiful, beautiful bastard...

The two of us had been dating for... Well, I don't know... It had sort of been on and off at first, so neither of us had ever really kept track of the relationship's extent. The two of us had met during college, at a party if I remember right, and things had gone quite fluidly between the two of us from the get go.

And by that, I mean, there was of course alcohol involved at the event we were attending, and that made our initial introduction a fairly inhibition-free event as far as that was concerned. My initial impression of him, one brought into being by the alcohol, I'm quite certain, was that Derrick was the funniest man alive, charming and suave and quick on his feet. And of course, the alcohol aided him in making him so as well, so there was definitely inebriation to blame for the initial kindling of sparks on both of our parts, to say the least.

Well, suffice it to say, after so much time of the two of us flirting like teenagers in the middle of the crowded room, the escalation of romance wasn't that far behind at all. Before I knew it, I had my very first taste of beautiful bastard lips, almost before I could think to realize it. His mouth dissolved onto mine in a hot, liquid stream, the two of us melding into a beautiful alloy of flesh against flesh, tongue against tongue, his flavor immaculate, unlike anything I'd ever before had the pleasure of consuming.

And not that this really matters all that much, but I should point out that I was not the sort of girl to operate on that quick of a basis... I didn't routinely jump into the sack with strangers just on virtue of them being cute or seeming like a promising catch, and though I very much embraced physicality and sensuality and eroticism, on any number of levels, really, it was still completely unusual for me to jump the gun with a man this quickly in a “relationship.”

I think, deep down, I somehow intuited from the very beginning that Derrick was going to be different for me and my life. I wasn't going to be just another notch on his bedpost, and this wasn't going to be a simple flash in the pan sort of deal that was over just as quickly as it had begun.

As my nostrils flared with the struggle for breath against his lips, and as his hands took their first gentle sweeps against my body, feeling me up and getting their first impressions of my hot, heaving anatomy, I somehow felt safer, more secure with this man than could really be said to have been true with any of the other guys I'd dated in the past, and for the life of me I couldn't seem to put my finger on precisely just why that was.

At any rate, though, in almost no time I was being swept back into his dorm room with him, the two of us making out so dizzily almost the entire way that it seemed a miracle that we didn't outright crash into something on the path.

But somehow, miraculously, we made it inside, sliding a sock onto the door handle and locking ourselves securely away in side for the night. At this point, I was so damn worked up by this man that I couldn't stand it, and I thought I might burst outright on the spot if our quick and sudden love wasn't consummated in as timely a manner as possible.