Meeting Jeff by Arthur Author creativewriting303@yahoo.com February 27, 2011
Put yourself in the story. Save the text to file and open it in notepad. Use 'Ctrl H' to access the replace function with 'find' and 'change to' inputs.
To make yourself the main subject, 'Find' David and 'Change to' your name - use 'change all.' The secondary subject is Jeff, 'Find' Jeff and 'Change to' your lover's or your want-to-be lover's name. You can do the same with Mickey, David's childhood dalliance, and Martha can be changed to whatever damned bitch suits your fancy.
The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Besides, I don't even know a damned bitch named Martha.
I found myself feeling rather dejected after my divorce. I had never loved anyone before I married Martha and had never thought, throughout our marriage, that there would ever be anyone else. It was all so sudden when she told me that she had fallen in love with another and, although not wanting to hurt me, had to have a divorce because she could not be untrue to me and our past. She was smitten by another and I was the loser of her affections. She told me that I had done nothing to cause the situation, but her heart had been taken and she could not live without her new lover.
That was then, this is now. I sat in Charlie's Bar and Grill nursing my fourth Bourbon; reflecting on 'the then' and fearful of the future. I was oblivious to my surroundings but was jostled back to reality by a loud noise. At first I thought it to be the report of a firearm and flinched to a hunker and spilled my drink as I eyed the perceived direction of the noise.
On seeing my reaction, a man at the end of the bar started laughing, pointed his finger at me, he said, "Bang, gotcha! - it was a backfire from a passing clunker. You're safe." As he spoke he rounded the end of the bar and placed his hand on my shoulder as he took the stool next to me.
"I'm Jeff. What's your poison?" he asked. Oh, I can smell it - Bourbon is it?" Then, to the bartender, he said, "another round for my new friend."
"Jeff, thank you very much, but I've got it. Put it on my tab, Charlie." I said.
Then I looked at Jeff with his toothy smile and easy manner. "Must be a salesman." I thought. He looked me in the eye and spoke of the weather and news of the day. "Maybe he's a newscaster," I thought.
"Tell me about yourself," he asked.
I told him that my name was David and that I was happily married to Martha . . . then I corrected myself to say that I had been happily married, so I thought, to Martha until she divorced me last month to marry her boss.
He commiserated with me on my sad situation. He was the consummate listener. "Must be a shrink," I thought.
After my sixth drink, Jeff suggested that we both had had too much to drink and, considering the hour, should leave. "We're both too drunk to drive, my friend," he said. "Let's share a taxi"
Charlie told us that our cars would be locked in his gated lot and safe until we could come for them tomorrow.
A cab was called and we entered and told the driver to drop Jeff off at the Normandy Apartments and me at the Jeffersonian. I closed my eyes briefly and awoke in a strange bed in a darkened room. There was an arm draped over my chest, a head on my shoulder, and a leg entwined with my own. I froze and tried not to even breathe as I tried to imagine with whom I had been sleeping.
I slowly turned my head and tried to focus on the dark figure clutching me. I sniffed her hair and then lightly touched the arm on my chest. The figure remained unmoved by my touch. I thought, "What the hell, I'll find out who she is in due course." I closed my eyes and just luxuriated in the feeling of naked flesh touching naked flesh. I felt a stirring in my loins and thought of the sheer bliss, that pure, electrifying, magnificence which is coitus - unrivaled in unadulterated ecstasy.
I turned slightly and snuggled closer to my bedmate. It wasn't Martha and I knew few other women with whom I would be so bold as to bed. Must be a whore. At this moment I did not care who she was or how we came to be here. The feeling we so good. I closed my eyes and again slept.
When I awakened again I was alone in the bed and could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone taking a shower; the sound of the water's flow, billowing steam seen through the half opened door, and a jaunty whistle from the bather. I thought whistling to be rather unfeminine. I guess that was because Martha never whistled.
I looked down at my naked form and could see my morning erection looking back at me. Had we had some fun last night which I could not remember - but it could? I looked further down and saw my clothing on a chair neatly folded with my sports coat stretched across the chair back.
The water stopped and I focused on the bathroom door wanting to see my companion. I saw an arm reach for a towel and then a figure entered the bedroom with the towel covering it's head as the arms buffed the head to dry the hair. The mist of the shower still engulfed her and she was back lit from the bathroom light. She extended her arm and flicked the light switch. I squinted and was in utter shock to see that she was not a she. I realized that it was my drinking buddy from last night.
He looked at me and said, "Well, It looks like you're happy to see me."
Reflexively, I moved my hands to hide my erection and clutched the bed coverings to hide my nakedness.
"What the hell! What the hell! What are you doing here?" I demanded.
"I live here, sport. You passed out in the taxi and I thought it best to not trust the cab driver to get you home. Besides, all I knew was that you lived at the Jeffersonian. We also saved some money on the cab," he said.
He continued to dry himself and was not the least bit shy of his nudity in my presence. He put one foot on the bed as he dried his crotch. His limp penis dangled over his scrotum with it's ample testicles swaying in the pouch; elongated by the moist heat of the shower.
"What did you do to me?" I sheepishly asked.
"What did I do to you? It's more like what did I do for you," he stated. "You passed out and I put you to bed. You slept, I slept, I woke up and showered and you woke up. That's all that happened. Did you think . . .?
"Yes, I thought!" was my sharp reply.
"Listen, I find you rather attractive and would love to share my bed with you at any time, but, I do not take advantage of people who are not capable of deciding what they want to do. I'll sleep with anyone that strikes my fancy - men, women . . . a few sheep. Just kidding about the sheep, but they are not on my "never will" list. Anyhow, sometime in the night we became closer than I anticipated, but nothing happened. Nothing!" he repeated emphatically.
I realized that my erection had not subsided. If anything it seemed to rage harder; a fact that the sheets could not belie. Jeff looked at me with a crooked grin and asked whether or not I had played any sexy games with my playmates when I was a kid? "You must have jacked-off with a buddy or two. Maybe even jacked each other or other things that boys will do to and for each other," he stated. "Didn't you enjoy some clandestine pleasure with a cousin or that boy-next-door? If you didn't, you had a dreary childhood!" he added nonchalantly.
His had finished drying himself and just stood akimbo next to the bed with his penis and balls still dangling in front of me.
My mind was swimming with memories evoked by his discourse on juvenile pleasures. I remembered playing 'show me yours' and 'doctor' with several friends in my youth. I could feel Mickey's fingers again on my penis as he introduced me to the pleasures of manual manipulation of one's penis. I remembered how my body was sent into overdrive when Mickey licked the head of my penis and then actually took it into his mouth. I thought I was going to die, but I thought, if I had to die, this was one hell of a find way to go. I did not know what pleasure was until that moment. Of course I returned the favor and we sucked each other whenever we had a chance until he was killed by a drunk driver when he was nine years old. I was eight and took his death rather badly. I never experimented with anyone else and never considered myself as anything but your average straight guy. All of those memories had been shunted to the deep recesses of my brain and never considered until Jeff joggled that portion of me that once was.
A tear came from somewhere and started down my cheek. Jeff leaned over me and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb. He placed the thumb to his mouth and said, "A bitter tear, David. A bitter tear that speaks so much."
He then kissed my cheek. I was at a loss for words and frozen in the moment. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "There, there. Now everything is alright. I didn't mean to make you cry of feel bad about anything. Nothing has happened here and nothing need happen. There are your clothes, you are an adult - as my granddad would say, 'you're free, white and twenty-one.' I will dress and go for my car and you can shower and make yourself pretty and go for your own car at your will. Just lock the door when you leave."
I could not believe it when I found myself saying, "Don't go. Not yet. Stay with me."
I was an emotional wreck. Memories of my youth, memories of Martha, and memories of meeting Jeff last night were cascading in my head and forcing more tears to flow. I whimpered like the fool that I was and wanted not to be alone. I wanted human contact.
Jeff lifted the covers and scooted his lithe body next to me. He said not a word as he leaned in and kissed me full on the lips. It was only a quick kiss but it was magical. I felt an electric charge rush through my body as his arms enveloped me in an embrace. He kissed me again with passion and I returned his gift with equal passion. He nuzzled into my neck and licked from my shoulder to my ear and then lightly nibbled my lobe before he inserted his tongue into my ear and did a quick swirl. I melted and tried to return his affection. He raised on his elbow and said, "No! This is all for you. Just lay back and enjoy the trip."
He continued his nuzzling as his hands stroked my back from my head to my ass. My erection, which had remained with me since I woke, was now as hard and I can ever remember it being. I reached for it out of reflex, but Jeff grabbed my hand and raised it above me head. Again, he propped himself up and told me to just go with the flow and let him do everything. He then took the opportunity to swab my armpit with his talented tongue. He started licking his way down my torso. He licked a circle or two in that ticklish region of the ribs and I stifled a giggle. He paused and said, "I hope you don't mind, if I ignore your nipples. I like 'em on women, but never have understood why men have them. They seem so out of place; I never get anything out of touching mine, and . . ."
"Go with the flow, man! Go with the flow," I insisted, "just continue what you were doing."
He did continue and slathered my abs with hot spittle. His tongue did a little dance in my bellybutton. I repeated, "Go with the AH, OH MY GOD!" He took my aching penis into his hot mouth and flicked his tougue around the head. No drug, no drink, no anything could deliver such pleasure. Martha was not one for oral sex. She did not want me to pleasure her there. Occasionally, she would give my penis a closed-mouthed kiss in her version of foreplay. It was nothing like Jeff. I had heard that only a man can give a good blow-job and I had no reason to doubt it - not ever having had a woman give me one.
To my chagrin, Jeff pulled off of my penis and moved lower and liked my balls which he had been massaging during the blow-job. He kissed them and raised my scrotum and licked the tender flesh beneath. All the while, he was slowly masturbating my shaft. He returned his oral attention to the head of my penis and seemed to feast on the flow of my pre-cum. He licked his lips and again took my shaft into the moist confines of his mouth. He bobbed his head and swirled his tongue around the tip with each upward movement. I tapped his head and told him that I was about to shoot. He stopped bobbing and, with just the head in his mouth, he continued swirling his tongue on the tip. I was lost in ecstasy. I filled his mouth with my seed and he was like a calf suckling a teat. He swallowed it all and jacked my shaft for more.
I was spent. My whole body had been sent over the edge of a cliff and I was free falling in time and place.
What had I done? What had I allowed to be done? I felt a sudden surge of guilt and shame. How did this happen? I opened my eyes and there was Jeff propped on his elbow, looking into my eyes with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
"How was that?, he asked.
"I am so sorry," I answered "I don't know what came over me. I am so, so sorry to have used you in such a way."
"Sorry! Sorry about what? I loved it. I have always loved giving head and I'm damned good at it," he declared. "That's what I am, a cock sucker. Tell me that you did not enjoy it and I'll call you the fucking liar that you are."
"I feel guilty," I said, "I crossed the line."
"You poor soul," Jeff lamented. "You have done nothing to feel guilt. Unless, you robbed a bank or killed your ex-wife. By the way, if you have killed her, I would not feel any guilt about that. After all, she killed your marriage."
We were silent for what seemed like an eternity when he took my hand and pulled me up from the bed. "Let's get cleaned-up and get the cobwebs out of our heads," he said. He led me into the bathroom and pushed me into the tub-shower. He adjusted the water at the tap and raised the shower control rod. He then joined me and again placed his arms around me from the rear and nuzzled into the back of my neck. My head was in a quandary. What we were doing was so wrong, but felt so right. He licked that secret spot below and behind my ear that responds with a tingle through my whole body when touched ever so gently. My knees were about to buckle and I grabbed the shower door to steady myself. I was trembling with lust as I turned to face Jeff. I looked into his eyes and said, "You are a magician; a diabolical practitioner of legerdemain," as I leaned in and kissed him.
I started to lower myself to repay him for his earlier ministrations to my desire.
He stopped me, kissed me again and said, "Not now; not today; you still have to work things out in your head. I just want you to know that what I said earlier about it being for you was exactly that. I did that for you and expect nothing in return unless you want to. But, after your expression of shame and guilt, I want you to chew on your emotions for a day or so and not on my dick.
"We can go get our cars and you can go your way and I'll go mine", he continued. "It's Saturday and I have nothing to do until Monday afternoon. I will get my car, pick-up some Chinese food for lunch, and return here to be sequestered in my mancave until Monday morning. If you want to come over during that time, I'll be here."
We finished our shower and dressed in silence. He called a taxi and we went to Charlie's to retrieve our cars. We were silent in our passage and, after splitting the fare, exited the taxi without as much as a howdy-do. I could not look at Jeff and waited until he drove off before stating my car.
I drove toward the Jeffersonian. My mind was still a quagmire. What had happened? Was it all real or a dream? It would never happen again; of that I was sure.
I had stopped for a stop sign and was waiting for it to change. I had waited several minutes when I was shocked to hear the quick, single blast of a police siren from behind me. I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw a policeman approaching my door. I rolled down the window and he asked me what my problem was, did my engine stall or why I was not moving. I explained that I was waiting to the stop sign to change. "What did I just say?" I thought. Stop signs don't change.
"Have you been drinking," he asked.
"No, I've just suddenly been struck by a case of dumb ass." I said. "I'm back on earth now. I'm sorry for my lapse."
"Waiting for a stop sign to change! Now, that's a new one. You seem okay, just pay attention to what you are doing," he said.
He turned to walk away and I said, "Wait a minute, what is the shortest way to get to the Normandy from here?"
I hope you enjoyed this story. I do not expect to submit others.
I do not desire, nor will I reply to any comments of any sort. Not even from you, Martha, you damned bitch!