Page 88 of S is for SEX

“I don’t know how to explain it. I just like seeing you get confused and nervous about sex. The mental struggle with continuing or whatever. When you want to continue, but you don’t. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head as he spoke.

It sounded pretty ridiculous to me. “Sounds good to me. I’m still thinking I’m good to go.”

As his gaze fell to the floor and he continued to shake his head, my pussy began to tingle. I found the thought of it all very intriguing, but beyond that, I was becoming aroused thinking of just what mental suffering would – or even could – come from having sex. My mind eventually drifted to thoughts of Luke fucking me into a babbling pile of naked flesh, and it was there that I remained until he snapped his fingers and brought me out of my sexual slumber.

“Where the hell did you go?” he asked.

I squinted and stared. “Huh?”

“You faded away or something. I was talking, and you were just sitting there slobbering,” he said with a laugh. f

I wiped the sides of my mouth with the back of my hand and gazed down at what appeared to be very dry skin. “I wasn’t slobbering.”

“Well, you were pretty close.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

He waved his hand in my direction. “Forget it.”

“No, no, no. No, don’t start that forget it shit. What?” I snapped back.

“Everyone’s a gangster until someone pulls a gun,” he said.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means when shit gets real I guess you’ll find out if you’re good to go.”

I laughed. It sounded ridiculous. “When the shit gets real? Are we talking about rescuing hostages or fucking?”

“Making slow passionate love isn’t something I’m interested in,” he said. “It might get rough or even be mentally exhausting, but one thing it won’t be is easy.”

I twisted my mouth to the side and widened my eyes slightly. It was my best is that all you’ve got look. He’s seen it a million times if he’d seen it once.

He lowered his head and chuckled. “Fuck buddies, huh? I guess we can agree to give it a try. But if we do, you just need to remember, I like weird shit.”

Weird rough sex?

Yeah, count me in.

I sat at one end of the couch and he at the far other. I peered toward him as he babbled his rhetoric, trying to assure myself if we took this step that I would be just fine. It was just sex, at least that’s what I kept telling myself. I was convinced some women had sex for the sole purpose of satisfying their partner or to keep the relationship from falling apart. Others, and probably a rather small portion of the general population, truly enjoyed it. I was one of the rare few that loved sex and everything about it.

As I admired him with what seemed to be a different set of eyes than I had ever viewed him through, I decided not only was I good to go as far as sex went, but that I was ready.

Ready for him to try and fuck me to death.

Or at least into a pile of babbling flesh.

I stood up. “Yeah. I’m good to go.”

His eyes followed me as I stood. Quickly, his face washed with confusion.

I placed my hands on my hips and forced a sigh. “I mean we’re both adults. We’ve been friends for as long as we can remember. I’m not going to let anything get between us. If we’re just going to remain friends and bring sex into the friendship, it’s not that big of a deal. If having sex with you turns me into a wreck, or I can’t handle it, we’ll stop. But, let me just warn you of something before we go any further.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

I cocked my hip to the side and did my best to mentally undress him. “I just might fuck you into a pile of babbling flesh. That’s what you said, right? Babbling flesh? I was going to be sitting in the corner babbling to myself, that’s what you said. Well, get ready to babble, Mister.”

He pressed his hands into the cushion of the couch and straightened his posture. Slowly, he stood and turned to face me. He brushed his hair from his face, gazed at me with his thin brown eyes, and moved toward me with an air of confidence.

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