Old Boyfriend

I may have said yes to Zach because the blue of his eyes was burned indelibly into my memory. Or because he was leaving for the Peace Corps. Or maybe because he was the unrequited love of my life.

My boyfriend had to work that night, so he couldn’t join us. He knew most of the Zach story. He was so confident, my boyfriend. It would never have crossed his mind that Zach was a threat. He liked Zach, we’d all gone out together quite a bit, so it was not even an issue when I told him I was meeting Zach for a Bon Voyage drink in the village. He just said, “Have fun.”

Oh Zach, my sculpted college swim team star! Blond buzz cut, all shoulders – a breast stroker no less – and that washboard stomach, the object of all my college dreams.

One particularly hazy evening during my junior year, the idea had struck me. Hit me between the eyes like the last gulp of a perfect gin and tonic – specifically the one in my hand.

“I’ll join the swim team to meet him,” I slurred to my roommate, Sandy.

“You’re either joking or drunk. I can’t tell which! Must be drunk,” she replied.

“I can swim,” I reasoned. “It’s possible. I lifeguard every summer. It’s worth a try.”

“They get up at 5:30 in the morning, who could stand living with you?”
I extended my empty glass in her general direction and smiled coyly. “You, of course.”

“No way. You know how I feel about alarm clocks.” I think she said the same thing the following year, every morning I dragged myself to practice. That and, “I’m gonna kill you.” But I got to watch Zach hang upside down doing vertical sit ups off of the chin up bar, his shirt flipping up so I could see the line of hair on his stomach above his shorts. We became best friends, but he never made a move.

Tonight, I sat in a trendy village eatery, waiting for him at the bar, a gin and tonic in front of me. The ice was melting. I felt a hand on the back of my neck. His hand. It was warm, and I turned to look into those blue eyes. “Hey, you look nice, you got a date?” he said with a smile.

“Yup,” I said, “meeting my best friend.”

“He’s a lucky guy.” Zach slid into the seat next to me.

I ordered another drink when he got his beer. He talked about Africa and the Peace Corps, while I watched his hands. His sleeves were rolled up and his forearms tanned and muscled. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone. I watched his collar bone peeking out at me as each round of drinks arrived. That’s when it happened. I reached into his shirt and just put my hand on his chest. I guess he stopped talking because I realized it was very quiet. For a moment I just couldn’t say anything, it was hard to breathe.

He reached his hand to my chin and raised my face to his, looking into my eyes. “Why didn’t we?” I whispered. He sighed, but didn’t let go of me.

“Because it scared the shit out of me and I didn’t want to fuck it up.” My face was close to his. I fingered his nipple and he closed his eyes.

There was no hesitation, no boyfriend, no right or wrong – just me and Zach. I kissed him and found his tongue waiting for mine, warm and wet.

We paid the check quickly and he took my hand as we left.

Somewhere on Barrow street I found myself leaning against a railing with my arms around his waist, his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my ass. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” I said. He smiled as he bit my lip. “I know.”

It must have been 3 a.m. and the streets were deserted. I came up for air long enough to notice the railing we were leaning on led down to a basement apartment.

“Give me your wallet,” I demanded. He looked confused, but handed me a worn black billfold. I opened it. “You always were a boy scout,” I giggled, pulling out a condom. “Always prepared.” We hurried down the stairs. His shirt was half open as he sat on a step. I unbuckled his belt and his jeans. He pulled me to him saying, “I want your mouth.” Then my tongue was wrapped with his as he fumbled with the buttons on my blouse.

I pushed down his jeans. Unimpeded by underwear, his cock sprang from his Levi’s, hard and thick. He opened my push-up bra and immediately started to suck on my nipples as I pulled my skirt up around my waist. “What if somebody’s home?” he said, pointing to the curtained window right next to us. “Then they’re gonna see me fuck you,” I whispered, smoothing on the condom.

I straddled him as his hands gripped my ass. The top of his cock pressed against my clit. His mouth was open, hungry for my tongue. There was a suspended moment, like slow motion. I lowered myself onto his rod and swallowed him whole. He felt so thick inside me. “You’re so wet,” he purred in my ear.

“I’m not wet,” I said. “I’m dripping.” I moved up and down as he moaned softly. Our rhythm took on a life of its own, as he spread my ass with every thrust. It made me crazy. “I’m so close. Oh, fuck me, fuck me!” I cried, waking everyone on Barrow street.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. I want to fuck you forever. Come for me, baby. I want you to come for me.”

My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, breaking over me again and again. He grabbed me and pushed deeper into me until it was too much for him and he came with a shudder. We held onto each other so tightly I couldn’t tell where I stopped and he began. He looked into my eyes and held onto my hips as he pressed his cock deeper into me, burying his face in my tits, licking and kissing them.

Later, when he put me in the cab, I could find no words. He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly for a long moment. “I’ll miss you,” I managed, brushing a tear away casually like it wasn’t really there at all. I got into the cab. He took my hand through the open window. “No you won’t. I’ll be with you. This night will be with you.” He let go of my hand and the cab sped off.

~Vanessa, Charleston