Training Tristan Ch. 02

"Well," slurred a familiar voice, "looks like I'm not the only one sittin' alone tonight."

I swiveled in my bar stool and rolled my head towards Tristan. I was buzzed. He was drunk. I motioned to the bartender for another round.

"What brings you here?" he asked, putting his elbow on the bar and his chin in his hand. I almost laughed at the sleepy smile he gave me.

"Just trying to get out," I said, pausing to guzzle half the contents of the bottle I had just been handed. "Bored," I said. Still not comfortable with my answer.

"Yeah," he sighed, losing his smile and looking into his empty bottle. Unsatisfied with it, he slid it an arm's length away.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "No one here you haven't already banged?"

He smiled again and said, "Nah... not like that. I just..." He puffed his cheeks and widened his eyes, then shaking his head he said, "You know... right?"

"No. No I don't," I said loudly as the band started up again.

"I just... It doesn't feel right anymore. It's all empty and shit." Then reaching out to his bottle, he raised it and hollered to the bartender, "Hey! This is empty!" She walked over to us and with a naughty smile said, "Well, I didn't do it." She tossed a quick glance my way then turned her eyes back to Tristan, smiling as she handed him another beer.

We sat and listened to the band, and I drank my way through two more bottles. At one point, Tristan leaned towards me and asked, "So what do they mean?"

"Huh?"

"The tattoos. Your tattoos. What do they mean?"

"Which one?"

"I only seen the anchor. You navy?" Grammar and syntax had been sacrificed on the altar of booze.

"No," I replied, rolling up my sleeve a little to reveal the art. Tristan moved closer and squinted to look. "It's my family. They anchor me. Everyone's names make up the border."

"Oh," Tristan said, nodding. "Sweet. Family." He looked towards the band and seemed to listen sleepily for a minute. Then he leaned forward and half-turned towards me. "How... How d-d-d-do they anchor you?" he asked, surprising me not only with his question but with the unexpected stutter. I pretended I hadn't noticed.

"I think of them and am reminded of who I am. I don't need to pretend to be anyone else. I don't need to go along with any crowd."

"Oh," he said, gazing back at the band and seeming to actually consider my words. He started to point at me with his drink and opened his mouth wide to begin another question, then stopped, closed his mouth, and stared again.

My head was feeling light. How many drinks was it now? Six? Seven? Shit, what was I doing?

"My dad didn't think much of me. He was imbareussed," Tristan slurred. Then standing up he held out his arms and gestured towards his body. "I wasn't always this fine spessumin of manliness," he said proudly. Then sitting back down, his voice got soft, "I was always small, and... and... geeky. And I stuttered... and..." he smiled, "and oh man was Macy right! I watched a lot of porn!" He laughed at himself.

I signaled behind his back for my tab. I pointed to Tristan and nodded. Might as well cover his night, too.

"What happened?" I sighed, more interested than I sounded.

"Growth spurt," he said, shaking his head. "Got to college and I was... like this." He tried to take a drink but his bottle was empty. He set it on its side on the bar. "And I didn't need porn anymore. I lived it."

I stood up and put on my jacket. I nodded towards the door and Tristan looked at me confused.

"Let me get you home," I said, a little woozy, but clearly in better shape than him. We each stopped in the restrooms on the way out, then staggered onto the sidewalk.

"Anyway," he said, once we were outside, "Suddenly I had ev'thing I e'r wanted." He swept his hand across the air in a grandiose gesture. "Girls, pop'larity, ev'thing my dad had. He always had girls. I had ev'rything he said lil' punk-ass geeks like me could never get."

I winced. Poor kid. Dad was a womanizer, son didn't fit the mold, no love from daddy, then the kid grows up, gets all the girls and still no love. Sure, there were much sadder stories out there, but I was suddenly very thankful for my anchor. I found myself running the tips of my fingers across the sleeve that covered my tattoo.

Tristan led us down a smaller street, stumbling here and there. I remembered where he lived, and it wasn't too much farther.

"And it's not enough?" I suggested, startling Tristan out of a daze.

"It's not that," he said very softly. He paused and bent over a little, putting his hand on a streetlamp to steady himself. Even though the crisp night air had shaken me out of some of my buzz, I still found myself leaning against a big blue mailbox, thankful for the steadiness it provided. The streets were spinning just a little bit...

Tristan straightened up and started walking again. "It's just that I had... whatever... I wanted... and... now I'm thinking... I wanted the wrong things."

"Yeah," I said. "It happens, I guess." I felt unable to formulate a more thoughtful response. I was sleepier than I expected to be at that hour.

"Thanks, Mona," he said, arriving at the entrance to his building. "You're a... champ." He gave me a nudge on the arms with his fist.

"Let me get you upstairs," I heard myself saying. What?

Tristan shrugged and didn't object. He did nearly collapse when the elevator started, and we both laughed at that. "Elevator, wait for meeee..." he joked, and I found it much funnier than I should have.

I followed him to his door. We were both laughing.

He unlocked his door and walked inside. There was no invitation for me to follow, though he left the door wide open in his drunken neglectfulness.

I paused, then watched him taking off his jacket as he walked away from me. The door was still open, and I remained in the hall. He slipped off his shoes and pulled his sweater over his head. I could feel the heat of the room. I started feeling warmer, even in the hallway. It was the first time I'd seen Tristan's chest in just a t-shirt. His shoulders were naturally broad, and his arms were untoned muscle. I imagined for a moment what the military would do to sculpt that body. I imagined him in army briefs, laying out his uniform after a shower. I thought about how long it had been since I'd let myself enjoy a night like this.

I stepped inside and shut the door. The simple clicking sound of the lock made my heart flutter. I had crossed a line.

*******

I almost stumbled over his jeans as I walked into the bedroom. It was dark, and I could only barely make my way to the bed. I quickly disrobed, climbing onto the bed in only my panties and bra. I didn't even consider that Tristan might not want this.

His soft breathing ended sharply when I crawled on top of him.

"Wha? Huh?" he mumbled, his head turning about in the darkness.

"Tristan," I said, my mouth hot on his cheek. "I need to get laid tonight. You OK with that?"

My eyes, adjusting to the low light, could make out his confused squint. "Mo...? uh... You need...?"

"Can. I. Fuck. You. Now?" I articulated, the volume just slightly too loud for the quiet room.

"Yeah," he nodded vigorously. "Yeah, of course."

I smirked. What else would he have said? Reaching behind my back, I unhooked my bra and tossed it to the floor. Tristan lay there dumbly as I pulled his t-shirt up and off. Then rolling to my back, I slipped off my panties and watched him fumble with his boxers until they were at least down to his knees. Good enough for me, I thought.

Taking his cock in my hand, I started pumping slowly, knowing the booze would be working against us. But soon enough he was rising to the occasion, and I slowed down, giving long, patient strokes. Tristan gasped lightly and his breathing was staggered. I hoped his girl troubles weren't because he was a two-minute man. I needed him to give me enough time to reach my goals for the night.

Straddling his waist, I looked around. Where was my jacket? There was a condom in one of the pockets... somewhere.

""D-d-drawer," he said, turning his head to the right and looking at the nightstand. Without needing to leave my perch, I leaned over and opened the drawer. I felt a passing revulsion at the large number and assortment of condoms; apparently the drawer was full of them. Choosing one, I looked down at Tristan, who shrugged and gave me an embarrassed smile.

Once he was ready, I raised myself up and wiggled his tool around until it was safely seated at my entrance. "You don't have to just lie there," I chided him, breathlessly.

As if he had been waiting for permission, Tristan raised his head to my chest and began kissing that neglected space between my breasts. I held still for a moment, enjoying the attention. Then, as his hands and lips moved along the generous curves that lead to my nipples, I started pushing down.

MM! Ohhh God... he muttered, his mouth full. With a few persistent thrusts, I was completely engulfing his cock. I straightened up, rubbing my hands along Tristan's chest as his head fell back onto his pillow.

Yessss, I thought. This is not a mistake... I gazed leisurely down at his broad, smooth chest, its paleness almost opalescent in the dark. Definitely the lightest-skinned lover I had ever had.

"You work out?" I asked him softly, letting my fingers move down his tight abs until they nearly reached the point of our union.

"Now and then," he said, hesitantly pushing his hips up a bit towards me.

"Well, damn, boy, you sure did win the genetic lottery, then," I complimented, starting to undulate my hips. Very slow. Very, very slowly I moved forward and back.

"I know," he grunted, his eyes fixed on the spot where my legs spread around him.

I maintained a frustratingly slow pace, not out of cruelty, but to let my body start to get into the game. My arousal had been mostly mental – I wanted to have sex. My body hadn't really been planning on this and was still catching up.

Suddenly, Tristan bolted up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around me and latching his mouth onto my nipples again. I groaned in pleasure, and his hips moved up in sync with my swaying. One of his hands traveled down my back, along my ass, and behind my thigh. He tugged behind my knee and moved my leg to wrap around behind him. I didn't need his guidance to do the same with the other leg until I was fully seated on his lap.

Tristan's kisses traveled up my chest to my neck, running along my jawline until it would have been natural for me to turn and lock lips with him. I almost did so, but both of us pulled back at the last second. It wasn't just the smell of alcohol on our breaths... Kissing wasn't what this was about. It didn't fit. I hadn't kissed a guy in... damn, it had been years.

Thankfully, that fleeting awkward moment didn't derail the erotic atmosphere. His lips returned to my neck, and I leaned back to give him access. The tight skin around my throbbing blood vessels was extra sensitive, and his kisses there fueled a faster grinding of my pussy into his lap. I was enjoying this position – the first time I had ever tried it. Tristan was average-sized, but sitting like this, I felt him churning deep inside me. I felt my labia rubbing his wiry hairs. I felt my butt resting against his thighs and my legs rubbing along the sides of his body.

Our hands moved fluidly along our bodies, mostly caressing backs and hips. Our limbs were so entwined, it was hard to keep track of which belonged to whom. Sometimes my hand would slide down his body and I would find myself rubbing up my own leg. I started pushing harder against him, trying to make contact with my clitoris. I felt it hardening and aching to be touched. As much as I was enjoying that position, it wasn't going to do it for me.

I shifted my legs so I was again kneeling astride him, and by leaning forward, I forced Tristan onto his back. But before I could stretch out and find a comfortable spot, Tristan pushed me to the side and rolled me onto my back. I started to protest, but he said, "Shhh, hang on." I decided to indulge him for just a minute, but I wasn't going to let my little fire die down.

"On your side," he whispered, kneeling between my legs. I rolled to my right side and Tristan lifted my left leg up. Straddling my right leg, he entered me again. I exhaled sharply at the sudden fullness. Then Tristan, God bless him, adjusted his leg so that it was right up against my clit. I looked up at him in surprise. He smiled confidently. "Will that work?" he asked.

I moved my hips a little, rubbing my pussy against his thigh, which also succeeded in pumping his shaft. "Yeah," I grunted, not wishing to stop. "That'll work real well."

"Good," Tristan sighed, bending over me. His hands resumed exploring my upper body. The entirely new sensations of his entry into me ensured that my fire not only stayed lit but started roaring again. I rubbed against his leg, and the pressure it put on my clit made my gut tighten. I reached that marvelous moment when you know you're not about to cum, but you do know for sure you're going to get there.

Tristan, meanwhile, had stopped rubbing my skin and had instead taken a firm grip on my shoulders. One of his arms was behind me and one was in front. His grip on my shoulders kept me from moving away – not that I had any plans to do so – and gave him powerful leverage. He thrust persistently, deeply, firmly, holding himself inside me for a moment while I rubbed against him, then thrusting again for a few strokes. I could hear him grunting from exertion. Then he was grunting in desperation. He was close. He pushed so hard it almost hurt me. Almost.

His breaths were raspy and wet. His legs trembled. I knew he was almost there. I wasn't as close, but I wasn't far. I put my hand over his thigh and gripped his ass. God, why hadn't I grabbed that earlier? I knew it was tight and firm. I knew I had wanted to get my hands on it. Why had I neglected it this whole time? Tristan seemed to like my hand there, and as I pulled him towards me in time with his thrusts, I finally felt his ass clench. He cried out a few times, then groaned as he pulsed inside me.

I kept up my own rubbing motion, which was aided in its efforts by my hand pulling his ass towards me. Tristan stayed hard and inside me for another minute or so as I called up the reserves. My imagination pictured my latest fantasy of choice – the brown-eyed Latino lover, hard-bodied and handsome, hovering over me, filling me with his cock, whispering in my ear and smiling as he drove me over the...

"AhhhhffffffffffUCK!" I shouted. My body clenched up and my hands gripped whatever part of his body was nearby. I twisted up my face as convulsions shook me. Leaning my head back, I felt my throat tighten. Distantly, it seemed, Tristan was again kissing that spot under my ear, rubbing my breasts, teasing my nipples, adding pleasure to pleasure.

"MMMMmmm...MMMmmmm!...MMmmmm!!" I moaned in time with my thighs squeezing together. It felt good to have something hard in my depths while that happened. I felt that weightless freedom, like sledding down a mountain and floating in the air after each bump. Images swirling in my head slowed down, dissipating until I was again fully present in the bed. Tristan was pulling out of me, and I felt a sheet being pulled over me, its coolness extinguishing the flames of my orgasm and replacing them with a soft, warm glow.

Damn, I whispered, closing my eyes.

*******

Nature woke me up. I heard soft snoring next to me and felt the weight of an arm on top of me. I slowly pushed it aside and got out of bed. I had to pee. Urgently. I stumbled around the unfamiliar setting, took care of my most pressing need, then turned my attention to the throbbing wooziness that was clouding my head.

Snap to! SNAP TO! It wasn't the first time I had needed to overcome a hangover at a moment's notice. Find my phone. Shine it on the floor. Gather up clothes, dress, and get the hell out of there.

I wasn't ashamed and was only a little embarrassed at having followed Tristan home. But I sure as hell didn't want to wake up next to him in the morning. Fully dressed, I slipped out of the apartment. The time read 4 a.m. I was starting to get hungry and was viciously thirsty. My craving for a cigarette nagged in the back of my mind, knowing I wouldn't succumb it but delighting in annoying me just the same.

The cool air outside helped restore my lucidity. I slipped into a convenience store and grabbed some things to satisfy my belly. Once I was no longer fighting thirst, I took stock of my state.

I felt... relieved. Man, it had been good to just get laid. And yes, Tristan's body was a fine choice for an hour's leisure. Emotionally, I felt a twinge of sadness, wishing I could for once wake up next to a guy after having spent some crazy intimate time together the night before. But I wasn't going to dwell on that. It would happen when it happened. The walk to my place took a half-hour, and by the time I got back, I felt pretty invigorated. I knew I'd need more sleep later, but in the meantime, no sense wasting the empty streets. I tossed aside my dirty clothes and pulled out my running shoes.

*******