The Professional

I blow through the door, kick my shoes off and stumble down the hall. I'm drunk as a skunk having just returned home from a great night out on the town. Stephan follows me in, picking up the trail of items I am dropping as I maneuver through his house. His place is like a maze. It's tall and tiny with many floors. They seem endless as I take the stairs lower and lower and lower until finally reaching his bedroom.

"Are you alright? You seem a little drunk." He has the tone one takes with a friend who is frustrating you and you're trying your best not to show it.

"Oh no, I'm fine. I'm just in a great mood. Wasn't that show the greatest?" I am now humming. I am humming and digging through my suitcase for something more comfortable to wear. "I'm going to go change now, OK?"

He glares at me half mad, half amused. I am totally amused. I'm on vacation and I don't give a fuck how deeply I get under his skin. This is the freedom you have when you're with a good friend. Stephan is just that. He is the only person I can share anything with, without judgment. And I mean anything. He gives me disturbingly loathsome advice that's usually just what I need to hear.

"You're just not drunk enough my friend!" I walk up to him and touch his nose as I say it, as though I am a mother talking to her adolescent son about not having finished his homework, quite matter-of-factly. I storm through the bedroom and fall into the bathroom where I will attempt to change my clothes and get ready for bed. I could change in front of Stephan, but for some reason I don't. I take my dress off and begin to splash cold water on my face. I'm in a bra and lace tights and I look at myself in the mirror. What sweet drunken bliss. What delightful, I'm-on-vacation-visiting-my-best-friend intoxication. I dry off my face and as I begin searching his cupboards for toothpaste, the bathroom door squeaks open.
"Stephan, what's up? Do you have to pee?" As I look at myself in the mirror his reflection appears behind mine, but he says nothing. "Stephan?" He puts his arms on my shoulders and turns me around. I am facing him now and I know that look. I remember that look. He's mad, but he wants me.

He grabs my waist and lifts me up onto the counter next to the sink. When you're drunk things happen at a magical pace, as though the whole world moves like a romantic movie in a soft light slow motion cinematic cluster of still frames that you catch as you open your eyes, then close them, then open them again.

He attacks me simply because he knows he can. His large arms encase me and his skilled hands unhook my bra as his long dark hair falls on my shoulder, sending me further down a lustful, drunken rabbit hole. He is more experienced than me. He has known so many women, and I have been there through most of them. He currently has two girlfriends and says "I love you" to both and I remember this as I hear him whisper those words to me in the dark of his cold bathroom. I know he loves me. He loves me just they way I am, just the way he loves so many.

I'm quiet now because he knows how to quiet me. Very few do. We were lovers years ago, when I was nineteen. When we decided to just remains friends my ex forbid me to speak to him. Thus began years and years of secrets exchanged. Now I do not tell my boyfriends and lovers that we have a past. It would be impossible to explain the complexities of our relationship. Tonight is just another to add to our list, already too long and too vulgar to mention further.

I know he is dominant. He knows I am submissive. I know he won't stop and he knows I won't say no. It's always like this. He throws my bra onto the floor and begins to kiss my chest. "No marks" I say. Without hesitation or pause, he releases one hand from my body and covers my mouth… his way of quieting me. I grab his fingers with my lips and suck on his index finger. His mouth opens slightly from instant arousal.

He pulls me close to him so my ass is on the edge of the sink. He spreads my legs open wide and grabs my lace tights right at the crotch, ripping them open to look at what he is about to enjoy. "I haven't had you in so long," he says. I say nothing because I don't need to. We are both thinking the same thing. It has been a while. Long enough to want it again. Long enough to enjoy it, all night.

I kiss him with my arms around his neck and I hear the clink of his belt unhooking and his pants falling to the floor. Fast, and without a word, he finds the hole in my tights and forces his way inside me. I am already dripping with anticipation and I shout out as his penis hits my pleasure spot deep inside me. He makes several powerful thrusts before stopping suddenly. He picks his pants back up and fastens his belt. I'm not worried. I know what he is thinking. I am in good hands.

My notion is confirmed when he lifts me up off the bathroom counter and carries me into his bedroom. He is not delicate with me. He is stern and throws me onto the bed. As I start to strip off the tights he stops he. "Keep them on," he whispers, winded with excitement. He turns me over and makes me get on all fours. Then I feel his mouth on my pussy as he begins to lick me from behind. At eating pussy, he is one of the best. It's because he likes it so much and understands the perfect combination of warmth, lips, and tongue. He knows that fingers come second. He loves the taste too.

I don't want to come but I'm close. I can hear how wet I am as his fingers move in and out of me. I pull away and fall onto my stomach. He lays beside, ready for what is next. "I want to do it this way," I say as I roll onto my back and pull him on top of me. He begins to sit up and lift my legs up, but I stop him and instead pull him close to me. I want all of the weight of his body on me. I like to feel every inch of the man and enjoy the strength he possess.

He quickly catches on to my desired position. While on top of me he is motionless and rigid. I wrap my legs around him and use his body as a sex toy. I move my hips into his so there is no space between us. I move in a slow but steady rhythm and Stephan begins to breathe deeper, heavier. Not only is his penis stipulating me, but because my body is so firmly pressed against his my clit is being stimulated as well. I am doing all the work, but this is just what I wanted. I grab him tighter. He pulls on my hair. I know I'm coming. I'm coming so hard. It feels so good. I say it out loud it feels so good. I moan loudly with my mouth all the way open. Stephan look down to see my face and kisses me. I gasp between kisses. My toes are curling, my nails are in his back and finally I scream as I come then go limp under Stephan's body. He turns me around and fucks me. Each thrust is like beautiful torture. I am so sensitive from the intensity of the orgasm yet it feels so good at the same time. He finally comes.

We sit up on the bed, looking one another in the eye and smiling. "I've never done that before."

"Done what?"

"Nothing. I literally did nothing besides lay on you, and it was fucking incredible. And those tights! Jesus Christ woman!"

"Well that' the way I like it. I wonder what your girlfriends would say about this."

"None of them have an ass like yours. But you still haven't given me head."

"Shut up. Wanna go downstairs and smoke a bowl?"

"Sure, and we can watch The Prophet," he says. I continue to look at him and think, this is a bad man, but a wonderful friend. He is my counterpart, my wingman, and the antitheses of my conscience. He is the male version of me, only, without a heart. And he is a really, really good lay. I am on vacation and I'm having a wonderful time.

Republished with permission from Sticky Is A Slut. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.