Two Fingers

I am finding it difficult at this point in time to separate my lust from my love.  This man has the ability with just two fingers to blow my mind, and also the ability to drive me completely insane.

Friday Night – I went to an annual car show with Laura, her husband Russell and his friend Mike.  It was originally a set up for me and a different guy named Dylan, but that ended up falling through.  Not wanting to appear like I would ever do, or not do something for a guy, even in front of my best friend, I anted up and proceeded with original plans for the car show.  Mind numbing.  The utter lack of interest in cars, and the painful conversation being initiated by the drugged up idiot following me around the convention center was literally making it difficult to breathe.  Thank God there was a room full of motorcycles and crotch rockets to momentarily distract me, but if you know nothing about bikes, how long can you really look at them?  Luckily enough for me Russell wasn’t interested in spending a great amount of time there, and where he wanted to go, the other two would follow.

We embarked on a brisk and invigorating jaunt in the still freezing March evening air to a local pub, known for fabulous Caesars, and terrific wings.  Conversation flowed with the booze, and absolutely nothing relevant was discussed.  We did manage to squeeze in topics ranging from my ex-boyfriend to the absentee I was hoping to turn into an ex-boyfriend.

Twelve drinks, three orders of wings, and four giant pickles later, I half jokingly inquired to the “gentlemen” if they would be dashing the 6 or so city blocks to get the car and pick up the “ladies” at the door.

“I’ll get the car,” replied Russell to his wife “but I’m not coming back to pick you up”.  Me and my big mouth.  Immediate attitude ensued.  Whatever.  I’ll walk any distance in any weather; just get me out of the heat of this all too familiar moment.

As my original plan had been to head to my best friend Jared’s to watch a movie on this particular Friday night, I got dropped off and immediately jumped into my own vehicle to make show time.  Jared, Annie and Jessica were stoned, stuffed and ready to rock, and despite being one hundred and ten percent fascinated by a reality cooking show involving more drama than the situation I had just left, we managed to squeeze in a whole movie with minimal interruption.  Frankie showed up to hang, and around the last half hour or so of the movie, Jason and friends showed up from their regular weekly hockey game.

Movie over, people unsettled and majority to the dart lounge for a nicotine fix, and when I say majority, I mean all company besides Jason and I.  The good sir announced that he was going to bed and, because Jason and I very rarely even converse if alcohol is not a dominant factor, I took that as my cue and started to put on the layers to head home.

“Are you going home?”

“Should I stay?”

“Why not?”

“Right now?”


It had to be one of the most stimulating conversations I have ever had.  Shivers ran, goose bumps popped and hairs everywhere were raised.   All a woman wants, or needs for that matter, is to feel desired.  Desire was there, in a set of very intense blue eyes directed straight at me, and I could not have felt any hotter.

“Lead the way…”

Two quick bathroom stops, a fiddle with the clock radio for music and a bright light off, and clothes were already dropping to the floor in whispers.

When two individuals have nothing in common besides sex, the kissing can often make or break the purpose of said event.  Not with Jason.  Every kiss would lead you to believe romantic or intimate feelings were constantly being exchanged.

We rolled all over the bed, kissing every new inch of exposed, warm flesh as it came.  I drew back his belt with sure fire expertise and eased his already stiff cock out of his pants with my tongue.  No boxers to remove here. He covered my chest and belly with his soft pink lips.  I sucked on him until he pushed me away and eased me onto my back. He lay down on his side beside me and picked my legs up over his.

From there Jason alternated between coating his fingers with either his or my own saliva and running his fingers from the top of my vagina all the way to my ass hole.  Not once in over fifteen minutes did his fingers do anything more than slide continuously up and down, not even for a second did they penetrate until my entire body was trembling, and I had to remove his cock from my mouth in fear of biting down in excitement.  Then he went for the plunge. Two fingers in and he vibrated his fist from side to side.

“God, you`re pussy is wet.”

I didn`t come, as I rarely do with men I have no deep emotional connection with, but it was also the closest I have ever gotten.  I have never in my life encountered a man who treated sex or foreplay with the methodology or technique that he did that night.  It leaves me even a little unsettled, as how will I compare my next suitor who will surely fumble and grope awkwardly and aimlessly…?

“I want you in me.  Now.”

As Jason reached over me and to the night stand to grab a condom, I caught his penis in my mouth and proceeded to express total and utter appreciation for the hand job.  Not even when he started to pull away with the exclamation of orgasm did I release him from my lips, instead forcing him to explode down my throat.  Only after I had swallowed the last drop of his huge load did I let loose, so that he could collapse forehead down on my stomach with a “Holy shit!”

We lay down together, and I put my head on his chest and ran my fingers over his torso. However I can never stay like that long, and after realizing that his dick was too sensitive to be of use to me again that evening, I got up and got dressed.

It was at the exact moment that I pulled the belt on my trench coat that Jason and I launched into our first “conversation”.  This was an actual exchange of words and ideas between two people that up until this moment had been a foreign concept between Jason and I.  I always knew that he was intelligent, but it was always so well guarded and infrequently displayed that it has never been a relevant quality of my attraction to him.

The conversation itself was not pertinent; something about the stuffed monkey named Dangles that he keeps on his bed and the relation to orangutans he had seen during the course of one of his many travels.  We also talked of his English degree and his method of “unpacking ideas” to create papers at the university.

Someone had to make the first move to leave, and I will ninety nine percent of the time choose to be that person, as I did this night.  He walked me to the door, so as to lock it behind me.

“Sayonara sir.”

And I walked out.

Now I’m aching on the inside, and it’s all too easy to identify the reason why. I have the option of exposing myself to vulnerability with the first decent man who has ever expressed an interest in me, physical or otherwise, or I can leave our relationship right where it is, in a comfortable netherworld of neither give, nor take.

My deepest heart would know love, and drown in the consuming sweetness, but my head will continue to dictate no matter the struggle or the self inflicted pain, the path of least attachment.

After all, who would I be, if I ever settled down?

~ Lynn


  1. Lynn, wow, that is one hot experience. Thought it was very empowering of you when you wrote, “after realizing that his dick was too sensitive to be of use to me again that evening, I got up and got dressed.” I hope you find the guy you are looking for, but I imagine you’ll be comparing every guy after this to those magic fingers.