A Relationship in One Day

This is the guy side of "Tthe Birthday Present". So now you know his reasons. Where they good ones?

In a way Larry couldn't believe his luck. He was being considered as Writing Center director, and they even sent to this conference, an internationally based one, but right next door. That meant one thing to him, three days of freedom with an expense account. And plenty of nearby coffeehouses to explore new baristas, his latest set of conquest material for his manic stream of women.

In his St. Paul apartment he had a map of the world with pins, one for each country containing a woman he had fucked, or as he preferred seduced. Baristas at least in Minnesota seemed to often be from eastern European and Middle eastern countries. His map in these areas was definitely filling up. Many came here on student visas looking for husbands. It was his mania driven need to populate his list of conquests that drove him, and here he was in fresh territory. Or fresher. The age of his victims helped, young tight bodies with swirls of dark long hair, sweet smelling, and exotic, unable to keep up with his barrage of endless words, they often disappointed him.

With one his favorites Dregna he had explored some new territory. He let slip about his homosexual forays in college, and she offered herself to him as both man and woman by presenting him with a strapon and dildo that matched his girth and length so perfectly he couldn't help being impressed. She also liked the idea of playing the Dom, even though she asked too many questions about comfort to be that exciting in these roleplay scenes. Still he appreciated the variety. The leather cuffs, neat assorted restraints, all intrigued him.

Dregna was on one mission to get married and a permanent place in the USA. When he refused, she married some lonelier, saner man, but continued to meet with him once a week. He had system of nights for particular women. All lived in St. Paul and nearby saving on car money and allowing for walking. There was the lovely barista that modeled lingerie on the side for an Internet only site, a violinist, and her youngish mother, the passionate poet, and Dregna all at his whim.

Yet he was feeling restless, spinning out of control. Twice he had been late for a class, and this was the beginning of a dangerous pattern. The Writing Center Director gig could help him, ground him, then there was this conference just on the other side of the Mississippi with other coffee shops, and favorite bars. ( He had stopped drinking after losing two jobs at universities in Minneapolis, so he was now dry.) He was up for the change.

In the Minneapolis days his favorite conquests were bored young housewives. He coached them tennis and spent plenty of time in saunas and private locker rooms with his prey. He had learned many tricks, ones that could almost remove from his mind his only true love his ex-wife. So why had she left him? Only for the obvious, dozens of affairs, lost jobs, lies, disappearances, forced hospital stays. She was a lovely blonde haired woman with an angelic face and gorgeous body. But—it was never enough. He liked them young, and he liked them not as smart as he was. So that is why his first response to Gabrielle was "Run!"

He was at this conference of basically the nerdiest of the nerds. Boring presentations. Not one person with any life in their eyes. No one like him. Not a mental illness in the whole room, and then he saw her. An older woman with dark long curly hair, slender and striking, yet something more, an oozing of sexual tension that began around her lips, full and brilliantly plum red, and eyes like deep blackish wells of unknown depth. Yet, it was her smile, her bright teeth and the curl of her lips, and the raising of one eyebrow that revealed her to him as a compatriot. He had to find out more.

He asked to sit at her table conveniently close to the ballroom door. The pre-keynote had begun, and the room was expectant yet full of dead boring faces. How was it that he was talked into going inside again? He was accompanied by some 20 something rather homely and friendly, yet boring graduate student that he had just had a cigarette with by the hotel's back door. He only smoked cloves and only when he was feeling especially bad or bored. He saw the olive skinned women right away, something in the way she tossed her long bang from over her left eye. She had a gothic look to her, not aided by her conservative clothes. It was somewhere in her face, full of nuance, dark mysteries, loneliness, defiance, compassion, cruelty. Her teeth showed that she barely drank coffee, and didn't smoke, so white, so sexy. She licked her lower lip and sucked it in and puffed it back out. Her dark plum lipstick shimmered on her otherwise makeup less face.

If was killing him, all this detail, it was just like he was in his story, the story in his head that morning about the relationship, a perfect one that took place in only 24 hours and no longer. Relationships are never perfect, and yet he craved the perfect moment. The perfect woman, but a perfect woman is not defined by her perfection, instead by her complex aloofness and sexually dynamic power. He reached for his meds, and changed his mind. He wanted the ride to be pure. He flashed forward to his hand around her throat, her eyes going soft with true submission and truer, purer desire.

She spoke and her words intrigued him. She released them at him rapid fire, and he gave them back to her, just as rapidly.

"My name is Gabby by the way, short for Gabrielle."

"Oh really well my name is Larry By-the-Way perhaps we are cousins," he retorted.

"Hopefully not more than second cousins," she snapped back.

"Yes or kissing would be out of the question," he continued the string.

"Perhaps we could make an exception. You do look a bit like me."

His interest was building, but she was classy, and beyond him. His psychiatrist suggested he date someone his own age, well she was definitely older than 20s maybe 30s even late 30s possibly, but she was still pretty and thin, and under the jacket and purple wrap shirt he saw a hint of what he thought had to be a beautiful set. "Damn," she was smiling again. "What the hell he thought" and expertly laid an innocent looking trap.

First a quick note to get her closer. He could only know if she was closer. Only know if the game was really started. She moved next to him. He felt the warmth of her skin, and smelled it, that intoxicating scent of desire, openness, as if her parting lower lips gave up the message he knew so well.

He asked her to walk with him to a coffee house. They never arrived at one, and yet he talked, talked, his mania building. He reached again for his meds, and once more held back. He spilled out bits of poetry, songs, life stories, and she listened, her eyebrow arching, her smile ever changing. He didn't know what he was saying what he was doing, he just kept going.

She said she was tired, and he had to get her back to her hotel room. He took her for a solitary traveler, and he was right. A suite, impressive view. It had a marble bath, a soft king bed. She changed while he checked emails and cancelled plans. This one would take time. He scribbled some more story notes, and then a list: shower, blue shirt, bag.

When she came out in skim (that is right not skin but skim as they flowed over her muscled yet thin thighs) tight jeans and a black t-shirt he was in awe. Within the span of seconds, they were making out on the bed.

This lady knew how to kiss, Her passion built from gentle sucking on to more forceful and delectable pressure as they writhed on the bed. For him everything was blurry, a tangle, and then she pulled off his shirt.

He heard her gasp with approval, and she dove in to licking and biting his nipples. No one had ever done this, and he was intrigued as little explosions of electric desire made his cock come to life, harder than it had been in years. She pulled off her shirt blushing and removed her bra. So lovely. Her breasts despite children retained their lovely shape. High and tight and round and with brownish pink nipples that pushed out like large flower buds at his lightest touch. "Good enough for now," he thought as he heard his zipper drop and felt his pants being pulled down.

She dove at his cock head devouring it like it was the sweetest candy on the planet. She sucked and pulled on it, and then licked between and around each ball slowly sucking and then harder on each ball in turn only raising his hard desire ever higher and harder. She worked her way up to the top pulling and sucking on the line of skin from his tight butt hole to under his balls to the tip of his cock and then devouring and pushing it all the way in, in one stroke. She held it there for a moment and then pushed it back in deeper. "What was she doing?" It felt like the muscles of her throat were pulsating up and then rippling back down. "How do you do that? " his mind screamed. She did this to him and more as he reached closer and closer, each time she stopped at the first tension of his balls.

When she was certain it was time, she let him cum, he kept cumming for what seemed like forever, but was only minutes. Here's the weird thing, he had been having problems even getting super hard lately. He had had complaints from Dregna in particular, but dear sweet Gabby--she had this way of making him stiff with a mere smile, and the way she used her mouth, and the way he kept cumming forever. Ahhhhhh. This was new to him. Where did her magic lie?

All business, she turned down a chance for him to reciprocate. But promised total submission later on. She had some important meeting, so he agreed to meet her later, to pick her up at 7PM.

He left the hotel, went home, fed Fingers his cat, showered, dressed carefully, wearing a new blue shirt that best set off his eyes, or so he had been told. He gathered his bag full of "Dregna" tools, never had he used them with or on another, they had only been used on him, but tonight he wanted control, lovely Gabrielle had promised him she would let him do whatever he wanted. He took a pill to take the edge off, tried to power nap, and instead paced.

He wanted her, to control her, to extract every bit of desire and passion from her, and yes to hurt her. He also wanted to fix her in her perfection, to keep this moment forever, like in the story he was writing, but that was insane. Ha, now that was irony, he was insane, just never until now violent. He imagined killing her, strangling her, and he became so stiff, he looked at himself in the mirror. "How does she do it?"

"She was OK," he thought, "alright she was pretty, yes even beautiful," but she was no young, hungry, wanton he reminded himself. Not his type.

"Crap," it was approaching 6:45. He grabbed his keys and ran for the car.

7PM sharp he was calling the room, and moments later she appeared. What a fox, what a beauty; he was hot for an older lady, well not really older, but nearly his own age, mere hours from 47. She strode toward him like a dancer, spun as he opened the door, her skirt twirling with her. "This is going to be a night," he thought.

At dinner it was the conversation ,so easy, so rich with common knowledge. He tried to make her laugh. She was most beautiful when she laughed.

After a brief interlude in the kissing room (a cute little addition to his favorite pub The Legal), he noticed she was pantiless and hoseless, and moments later it was back to the hotel for his turn. He stripped her relishing each reveal from her sweetly polished toes, to her neatly trimmed pussy, to her lovely nipples. But, tonight was not about tender, it was about dark fantasy.

While she was in the bathroom, he had placed his equipment strategically, and without much explanation he had her quickly cuffed to the bed, arms over her head, chest out, slow ragged breaths. After ravaging her a bit, he took out the tie and told her his fantasy of coming in on a cold day to find her naked and perfect under a down filled blanket, and how he wanted to keep her this way forever. He pulled the tie firmly around her neck, cutting off her circulation and then her airway. He whispered to her. His erection was monstrously hard and dripping pre-cum. He could feel and smell the oozing scent of her excitement. In the dim light her lips with the lipstick kissed off look darker again and grayish,. then he stopped and loosened it. He was glad for the pill he had taken. It had stopped him.

He would have kept going. Instead he ravaged and bit and tore at her skin, pulled her hair, bit and licked at her sex. She was writhing with pleasure, and he hoped pain. He grabbed her roughly and dove into her hard. He could feel the end of her, and pushed harder and faster exploding like a supernova as if his seed was spreading over the entire field of stars out in the night. He collapsed for a moment, yet his passion was not stilled.

He turned her over, then more leather restraints, and she was in the perfect position for his satyr routine. He had only ever had this strapon used on him, but he wanted to fill her up. Give to her the depth of his passionate whims. He owned her. He pulled her hair and slapped her hard on the thigh. She woke up or so it seemed, all her muscles tensed. She flung her hair out of her eyes, and watched him lube up the dildo just after he managed to push two fingers up her virgin ass, lubricated with her pussy ooze. Yes a virgin one, she told me, and it appeared to be true.

As he described it later in his 24 hour story: " I had no words, my mania was now in pure action mode, I wanted to demonstrate how I spilled words with my hips, how my cock bounced under the dildo. I pushed it into her waiting pussy, first, just the tip, then the dildo into her ass, also part way only. I tapped it with my finger, and she went crazy. I pushed in further with both members and quickly found a rhythm that satisfied us both. She was exploding, cumming, and I was a rock, harder even than the dildo, and seemingly just as tireless. I went on for over an hour like this. She was hoarse from screaming my name and many intelligible words. I was pure cock in pussy, pure hip thrust, and I was pure hands gripping her smallish yet firm tits in my hands yanking them like horse reins. I bucked and fucked and finally exploded a third time. A record for me. A cure. I removed the strapon and rubbed her gently as she fell asleep. There could never be another fuck like this one."

He woke later than he had liked but spent a minute or two watching her sleep, a look of pure joy on her face. Then it was hurry to the airport and a short detour to his daughter's bakery for croissant and water for her, coffee for him. Showing off a conquest was unlike him, but this was different. He was right about the coffee- less teeth. It would have never worked, after all he loved coffee, ok sweet little baristas, but for that moment. ..

At the airport he was raw, kissed her gently knowing he would never see her again and yet grateful. He sent her two instant messages, not wanting to lose connection, until finally a policeman waved him off the airport circle. He wrote her an email later on that night:

Sorry I told too much story (that's my second language acquisition talk), but when I'm hypomanic I think my life is sooooo fascinating :( You should have beat me up or something. Your should have beaten me... beat? beaten? Thrashed me. You should have given me a thorough thrashing. Hmmm :) I crashed for an hour in the afternoon. Then Maxine came to see me... Ooh, ooh, all the news at Le Patiserrie: "Dad, who was the woman you were with this morning?" I just coughed a few times, and then said you were this exotic woman I met at the conference, like from Quebec with a real cool French name, and so I couldn't resist when I learned of your distress to flither (I think I used the word flither because I was nervous) flither to the airport to catch your plane back to Quebec City. I said that you had the croissant and that you proclaimed it as good as anything in the provence. I would have kept going like I always do when I'm ona roll, but luckily I was too tired. By 4:00 pm I was out of speech, not one word left. It was an odd thing for me, lying on my narrow bed, looking at the ceiling and no stream of blather coming out. I freaked a bit, thought of going to the ER, but gradually I discovered it's kinda peaceful to shut up. You know, like, to shut up, and just shut up.

She sent a sweetly worded reply thanking him. He never did see her again.