Memories and thoughts age, just as people do. But certain thoughts can never age, and certain memories can never fade.
My phone doesn’t normally wake me up, even on the highest ringer volume. But somehow I woke up to a text message tone on my Google Voice number at about a quarter to three this morning.
Is it 12 yet?
I wasn’t really surprised to see the message from Sierra, especially since it was hours later than when we’d planned to chat. I briefly considered going back to bed (as I had before when she’d texted me after midnight, if I woke up at all). But, what the hell.
Yeah, think so, what’s up?
Oh hi, I’m out of the shower.
Damn! You must have been thorough for that long a shower :P
Turning off my phone’s screen, I lay there on my back for about few minutes in the darkness, thinking. Fuck it, ‘nothing ventured nothing gained,’ I call her and she answers in a hushed voice.
“Yeah, sorry, I take long showers.”
“That’s ok, I was only sleeping. Do you want to chill?”
“Yeah… can you come pick me up?”
I sigh, thinking for a moment. Falling back asleep is so tempting when you can barely open your eyes, but you do only live once. I must be going mad (or perhaps I’ve always been).
“Sure, let me hop in the shower. I won’t take 12 hours though.”
“Ok, I’ll stay awake, text me when you are headed over.”
For some reason, I’m starting to feel pretty awake considering I’d had less than 4 hours of sleep, so I hop in the shower, throw on a t-shirt and jeans, and text her before I head out and she confirms she is still awake, so I figure, ok, we’ll give it a go.
I drive down the deserted freeway listening to some oldies on the radio, the sound of Bobby Fuller’s guitar on “Let Her Dance”, into the night lights of the slumbering city, and finally pull up to her silent apartment building lit the by yellow glow of street lamps and text her that I’ve arrived. 10 minutes go by as I wait, nothing but silence. I get the sinking feel that she must have just been fucking with me all along, using me for entertainment, playing ‘let’s fuck with this old married dude who thinks he has a chance with me.’ She was probably in her apartment peaking through her window and giggling at me at that very moment, as I’m parked there like an idiot, maybe she’s got a few friends with her and they are all having a good laugh, probably all drunk and high and couldn’t think of anything better to do at that hour. Feeling rather foolish, I turn the ignition to drive off, but then I see a shadow come around the corner. Only a purse, leggings, and a sweatshirt, she climbs into the passenger seat.
“Hey, how’s it going.”
“Good, what are you doing here at 3 am?” She asks wryly.
“I don’t know, am I here? I think I’m still asleep in my bed,” I say, putting the car in gear.
“Shhh, this is only a dream, just drive.”
The dim city lights fade in the distance as we drive down the freeway. She discovers the aux cord to my car stereo and hooks it up to her phone.
“What kind of music do you like?” She asks, scrolling through her music library.
“All kinds isn’t an answer.”
“Yeah, I hate it when people say that, lately I’ve been listening to British classic rock and proto-punk.”
She puts on some techno-pop (wasn’t half bad) after a few quips about me being old.
The neighborhood is dark and silent as we pull into my driveway, we quietly get out and I unlock the front door.
“Ooooh, there’s an upstairs!” She cries as she glides up the stairs in the pitch dark and I hear her running all over the house as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I climb the stairs after her into the living room dimly lit by the diffused moonlight through the fog outside, she finds the bedroom quickly enough, throws her purse on my wife’s vanity, and flops down on the bed. I come in and turn on the lamp on my nightstand and take off my jacket. Sierra takes off her college sweatshirt, and hugs herself in her tank top.
“God it’s cold, I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Sorry, usually cold out here.”
I still can’t quite figure this girl out. We’ve hardly touched since we met, not even hugged, she’s always running off or moving in such a way as to make it awkard as I try to do anything physical. She’s the complete opposite of Anne who is very physically affectionate, close, and cuddly. I grab a couple of beers from the fridge in the kitchen and hand her one as I sit down next to her on the bed, putting my arm around her.
“You can get cheap beer at Costco about as good as this.”
“This isn’t cheap beer, but I believe it. What kind of beer do you like.”
“Cider isn’t beer.”
I set our beers on the night stand and she lays back and curls up on the bed. Where is this going? I laugh inside at the absurdity of it all, perhaps my fears when I was parked outside her apartment were right, just this is more elaborate of a joke than I thought? Should I be fixing some tea and scones for when my wife and Clark James fuckin’ Gable burst in?
I sigh, and cuddle up next to her. But as I do, she turns her head and leans into me for a kiss. I can still see it in my mind, she transforms before my eyes. Up to this point, she has done little but make fun of me, my beer, my age, my car, my music, but as we lay there kissing her face changes, she looks deep into my eyes and becomes a totally different woman. She smiles a real, warm smile for the first time since I’ve met her and her lithe body moves against mine. I pull her close, kiss her, run my hands down her back, reaching under her tank top to feel her smooth skin. She moans as I slap and squeeze her butt and she pulls her shirt off. I follow suite and feel my chest against her leopard print bra as I get on top of her and our tongues meet. Bra unhooked, leggings and panties came off, my pants and boxers. I should feel some fatigue given it was 4 am, but I was mesmerized that this was happening, I felt like I was in a trance. Her tits were the smallest I’d had the pleasure to squeeze, but they were firm and pleasing and proportionally large for her slim frame, I ran my hands around her tight stomach and tiny waist and pronounced hip bones. Her ass was amazing, looked like she was lying on a couple of smooth tanned pillows when she laid naked on her back. Dark hair crowned her pubic mound, her vulva was Anne’s opposite. The lips were well defined and protruded in a perfectly thin outline, her clit was proportional and the pearl just visible below the folds meeting at the top. I grabbed a condom from my nightstand, but she just looked at me and said “I have an IUD” before grabbing me and pulling me in for a kiss. I was a bit caught up in the moment, or perhaps it was the fact that it was 4 am, but I slid inside her bare pussy (for you kids watching at home, wrap it up, it’s not worth catching something). I wonder if I’ll ever forget that moment. I remember vividly the first time I entered my wife years ago and the first time I entered Anne some weeks ago. Sierra moaned and her breaths were quick and high pitched as I penetrated her, she moved her hips rhythmically against me, our bodies pressed together. Her eyes were bright as I looked into them. I’ve never seen a girl that can draw you in with such a stare and it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable to stare back. Her eyes had a primal glint, like some defiant beast, but all they communicated was ‘I want you.’ “Oh god” I was moaning as I felt her tighten around me, she was soaking wet and hot inside. I let her squeeze and rock her body against mine before I picked up the pace until I was pounding her at full strength and she was crying out with pleasure. We alternated between fast and slow, it was all very natural and intense, the movements of our lips complementing those of our loins.
I turned her over and lifted her big beautiful ass before sliding my cock back in, enjoying her incredible tightness around me. But then she turned onto her side and I spooned up next to her soft curves. She lifted her leg and guided me into her again. I moved my hips and gripped her stomach while she guided my other hand to her breast. Sliding slowly in and out of her, I’m not sure how long it lasted, but I could feel the pressure mounting slowly but inevitably.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” I could barely manage the words.
“Oh, god yes.”
We breathed hard together and she squeezed my hand as I came hard inside her, spurting at least half a dozen times. She slowly got up after a few minutes, and standing next to the bed bent over to put my cock in her mouth.
“That felt like a lot.”
“Yeah, I don’t cum often during sex.”
“Feels like you are leaking out of me.”
I could see cum running down her thighs as she licked a few drops off my tip.
“Holy fuck, you are literally leaking out of me!” She cried, putting her legs together and running off to the bathroom.
“Yeah, what did you expect?” I laughed, I guess not everyone is used to this kind of mess?
After a few minutes she returned, I put my arm around her waist and handed her a half-full beer.
“We have to get going at eight so I can get to work. I work just a few miles from your apartment so I can drop you off on the way.”
“What time is it?”
“Good, so we can like sleep an hour, and fuck an hour, and sleep an h…”
She trailed off as I kissed her. We skipped the sleeping part. Most of what I remember was getting very sweaty, looking at us fuck in the mirrors around the room, holding her legs out and looking down at her incredible body and watching my cock appear and disappear into her pussy, her perfectly formed lips gripping it tightly. Locking my eyes with her deep brown ones, sometimes they’d be slits, other times she’d open them wide. We’d tease each other a bit, I loved it when she’d gasp and act offended before giving me some tongue, especially if I implied any slutty behavior on her part. If I said anything about her being too tight, she’d caricature me with her best complaining man voice. In the middle of it all, I gave her some head, she mentioned it was the best she’d ever had (perhaps, nice compliment at least). I can still smell her pussy. It was clean, but slightly musky, her smell is still crystal clear in my mind (either that or I didn’t wash my facial hair thoroughly enough). I can still feel her skin under my tongue, and her clit getting harder as I enveloped it with my mouth and tongue. She liked it when I sucked her nipples, making them harden into bullet-shaped points, giving them some teeth, “harder” she’d say sweetly and close her eyes breathing deeply. Towards the end, we slowed down, just feeling our bodies together.
“Your balls look like a heart” Sierra said feeling my drained testicles which had turned bright red after slapping her all morning, I had my legs together sitting on the end of the bed to check my phone, my cock and balls were shoved up above them, smooshed together.
“Dang, it is seven.”
“We should get in the shower.”
Sierra smiled and laid her head by my hip letting her hair fall off the end of the bed. I stood up and kissed my way down her stomach, just as I reached her pubic mound, she grabbed my waist and swung her knees above my shoulders. Damn she’s flexible (and strong, she is an athlete, but I won’t say which sport), I still don’t know how she performed this maneuver.
“Holy crap, you are going to fall!”
I grabbed her legs as she slid between mine off the bed, but I hoisted her with my head in her crotch just before she hit her head on the floor.
“I can’t carry you like this.” I grunted, straining, though she was light (and I’m pretty weak given that my workout routine fizzled months ago), but this was definitely awkward.
“Keep going.” She laughed.
I can only imagine the sight of naked me walking through my dark house carrying a naked twenty-year-old girl upside down by her legs with my face inches from her pussy.
Her naked glistening body is still fresh in my mind. Her dark hair up, trying futilely to not get it wet, while I pushed her against the tile wall and kissed her. Or her sitting down in the bottom of the shower as the water cascaded down. As we got out, I handed her a towel and she ran off as I dried myself in the bathroom. I found her wrapped in it and my sheets in the bedroom, snoozing soundly. I dressed in a button up and a pair of twill pants and made coffee while she dozed, before sitting down by her side.
“Jason, your sheets are amazing, what are they made of?”
“Like 1600 thread count Egyptian cotton I think. My wife hates them cause I picked them out I think, I only put them on when she is gone.”
“Mmm, like the song, Sheets of Egyptian Cotton.” She half sang as she turned to me, eyes still closed.
“We need to get going.”
“K,” she smiled as I kissed her again.
As I drove to work this Monday morning with my passenger, I couldn’t (still can’t) believe the night and morning had actually happened. There is no way I had sex with two different girls in the same bed within hours of each other. I’m sure this happened to some dudes all the time (and perhaps plenty of gals), but to the guy who was a virgin into his mid-twenties and took another little over half a decade (3 weeks ago now) to fuck another girl, this was surreal. “Naa na na na nanana naa, sheets of Egyptian cotton,” Jesse Spencer sang (gosh, I never was able to stand this song, but now it will always evoke this memory) over the stereo played from Sierra’s phone while she sat in the passenger seat and took selfies, finally getting a suitable one to post to Snapchat. I hardly remember what she said, mostly small talk about her favorite music, I didn’t speak much. I just remember the sun breaking through the clouds over the mountains as we drove. Per her request, I dropped her off in the same shopping center I’d picked her up at the first time we met in person. I put my arm around her and kissed her before she hopped out of the car with a sweet “bye.”