GIRL 29
SEPARATED MOM GIRL
I was so far behind on my manuscript for a novel I was contracted to
write that I took a vacation from my construction consulting career,
and more importantly, a vacation from my hectic single-father life, and
rented a log cabin in the deep woods of southern central Pennsylvania
not far from Blair Witch country. It was 50 miles from a cell phone
signal and all long distance calls on its land line were locked out.
The cabin was on a hill, remote, spooky, and quiet. Very quiet. The
perfect place to finish a novel. I wrote 500 pages in ten days, and a
hard day at work as an author is 3 pages, so this was a pure miracle.
If anyone ever doubts that the real author is the supreme being, the
success of this novel will testify to the truth.
But I did find two ways to amuse myself. One was writing stupid essays
to myself at three in the morning. They are mostly posted on the other
Blog site. The other was dialing into
a local number that connected my laptop to the internet, where the famous internet dating site awaited. I was so in between girlfriends that I felt
disoriented and lost.
I was just cruising miscellaneous females when I saw an ex-girlfriend I opened up her profile, mystified, and saw that it
wasn’t the girlfriend at all. But she had the same dark looks. She spoke in
her profile of passion that can heat up a room. She was a teacher, she
said, and the giggles of children were her music. I wrote her and she
wrote me back immediately. Over the ten days of writing the novel,
every few hours I checked to see if she wrote me. The day I was moving
out, I was constantly on the email system. We were both getting so hot
about talking live on the phone that we could barely contain ourselves.
But on the cell phone on the drive home she didn’t sound like I’d
thought. There was a hard edge to her. Her divorce from her
master-of-the-universe husband hadn’t even kicked off yet. I was
discouraged, but I arranged a date anyway.
I wrote this diary entry in the half hour after the date ended:
"I walked up to a woman I'd never seen before. She stood there in the
dim light of the parking lot, standing beside her car. She was tall,
elegant, slender and gorgeous. Her dark hair was a halo around a
beautiful face with wide brown eyes. She wore a black top that revealed
her belly button and low riding tight black pants, revealing the beauty
of her figure, with three inch high heeled sandals, and as she stood
there, I was eye -to-eye with her. Her arms and shoulders were
gloriously slim, her hands soft, her fingernails long. She looked into
my eyes as I got close, and I heard an alien voice in my head say,
You're going to love her. I walked up to this woman, this first date,
took her in my arms and kissed her as deeply as I've ever kissed a
woman, before I even said hello. I took her to the Princeton Triumph
Brew Pub, where the female maitre d’ lit up and said, "I can’t believe
it, I haven’t seen you guys in months! Where have you been? It’s
Michael, right?" I must have gotten close to fainting, as my date looks
so much like my ex-girlfriend that they could be sisters. The hostess got us
the best table in the place, and we were forehead to forehead all
night, her hands entwined in mine. We drove home after fogging the
windows of my car, and despite her insistence that she would not make
love to me on the first date, I lit candles, turned on a sexy CD, laid
her on the bed and began kissing her. I’m on my period, she murmured, I
can’t do this. It’s not right for a first date, she insisted, and
besides, when I make love to you, I don’t want to have any inhibitions
at all.
I know, I said, but as I kissed her and touched her, our clothes melted away, and I kissed my way down her smooth, table-top flat stomach and slowly put my mouth on her. I sucked on her so hard and so sensuously with the string of her tampon dancing between my lips, until I pulled it out with my mouth and discretely put it away, then tongued her so hard that she came in a rushing, shattering orgasm. I hugged her for what seemed a half hour until her frenzied breathing slowed, then I hurried to the bathroom and as I’d suspected, the entire lower half of my face was covered in dark red blood. I hoped she didn’t seeme, I thought, as I cleaned up. I returned to the bed and kissed her, and when I looked into her eyes, she looked up at me, then shyly looked back down, said, "please, please fuck me." I put myself into her mouth, the sight of her long fingers on me, guiding me into her mouth making me hard as steel. Her eyes were half shut as her wet lips closed on me, her tongue running along the hardness of my shaft until I was feverish.
I
pulled myself back and moved down her body, my tongue finding her
mouth, my cock touching her hot, wet tight opening. Slowly at first,
and then harder, I drove myself into her, deeper, as far as I could go
until I touched bottom, and her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened to
an O and she gasped as she cried, "oh my God, oh, oh, oh my God!" I
smiled at her, making romantic and passionate love to her. After
kissing her and touching her and moving in and out of her, she finally
spread her arms wide, arched her back so high her head rolled back into
the mattress, her raven-black hair spread out on the bed, and her moan
became a beautiful, delicious shriek of ecstasy and her body shuddered,
and when her trembling finally calmed, with myself still deep inside
her, I kissed her ear and whispered that she was beautiful. Hours
melted away, and orgasm after orgasm later, she tore herself away to go
home to her children. As I write this, I can still feel her."
I was stupid to start a relationship with her. She was tiptoeing around
her husband so carefully that she hadn’t told him she was dating. Her
children -- two of them college age -- had no idea there was marital
discord. Almost immediately I was unhappy. I stared into space from my
balcony on a Friday night, then again Saturday, and finally Sunday, as
she refused to see me, but she called me from a nightclub that she was
out to with her girlfriends.
When we did see each other, it was for an hour. Usually on a weekday
before the kids got home from school. She arrived, kissed me, dropped
her clothes to the floor, then dropped down herself as she put her face
in my crotch. Somehow when I watched my rock hard cock vanishing into
her wet, eager mouth, it made all the bad shit vaporize. I’d throw her
down to the bed and enter her hard, and her performance was
magnificent. Her eyes would roll back into her skull and she would
scream her"oh my God" squeals and she’d convulse like an epileptic.
She’d say beautiful things like, "I need you to fuck me in the ass now"
and "your cock is so huge" and "honey, I’ve been with a lot of men, and
I mean a LOT, and you are without doubt the BEST!" And as she flashed
those long-fingernailed cool fingers up and down the shaft of my cock
and my cum splashed all over her mouth and face, it would make me glad
to be a man and glad I knew her.
But then, in the long hours without her, my mind would rebel. It wasn’t a relationship, it was a fucking affair.
I confronted her about it, loudly, on the phone, but she simply hung up
on me and refused to take my calls. For two weeks she vanished. I bided
my time, and when I thought she was over it, I wrote a conciliatory
email back to her and begged her to take me back.
I fucked her one last time, a grand finale. I kissed her happy lips at
my door, and as she drove home, I wrote her a breakup email.
Post script: A few months later I wrote her again, ever
uncomfortable with the bad karma of hostility between ex-lovers. We
became friends again. She had dated a few men, but no one significant.
During my famous Christmas Dry Spell, I tried to get her to be a
fuck buddy -- after all, she’d always treated Rex well. She declined,
saying that I was too sexually active and that she didn’t want to get a
disease. But in May, she must have smelled that I was emerging from
playerhood and she showed back up in my life for a few dates. I fucked
her between Girls 78 and 79. But it was different. I’d grown up.
Separated Mom Girl had become bad in bed, proving that great sex is a
function of the inspiration we draw from each other. I’ve heard many
times about how great the sex is with an ex-spouse. I wouldn’t know --
I’ve never had sex with either one after the separations started. But
this sex was flaccid and lukewarm and stale. The next day I didn’t call
her. Nor the day after.
Today, Separated Mom Girl is still married, still no divorce papers
filed, still walking the line to avoid inflaming her moneymaker
husband, and still avoiding the questions of the children. If I have
regrets, they are that I was unable to budge her from being stuck.
Sometimes even the work of the supreme being fails.
Or does it, I thought…perhaps she’ll read this someday and think for a
moment about the dishonesty of her life and the way she’s using her
husband.
Or not.
Writtenby tigersharktorp . Link to this entry
This entry has 2 comments: (Add your own)
My man! You earned your red-wings, sick, but what the hell, when you gotta have it, you gotta have it.
What was it that one lesbian vampire said to the other? See ya in 28 in days!
Geez, I crack myself up!
Comment from ussdevilfish666 - 9/13/05 4:59 PM
me thinks in your mind she was your ex as she looked so much like her,
but you finally realized she really was not and that is what changed.
Comment from ldy916 - 9/12/05 6:18 AM
No comments:
Post a Comment