***
Saturday morning Lauren swept out of there so fast I almost forgot she had been there. But she also commented on a trophy I had in the corner. I’d been a decent golfer a few years ago, just amateur stuff. But it at least gave me the idea to get up and leave my condo. So I set up a tee time, went out, and shot a horrible round. That’s what happens when you get rusty I told myself.
But at least I’d left my condo and gotten some fresh air. And for a few brief hours, I forgot about Saya.
Of course, the instant I got home and looked at my couch, memories of kissing Saya there came rushing back to me.
I spent the rest of Saturday night crying. Really, the whole night crying. Hours and hours of crying. I hadn’t cried like this since I’d found out my wife cheated on me. But it was a cathartic evening.
***
Sunday I started looking for a new dream. Something to build my life around. I toyed with the idea of quitting my job and starting a new company. Maybe I’d become a hermit and try to invent the latest wonder gizmo. Should I get into politics? (Uh, no.) Take up activism? (Double no.) Become a professional golfer? Join the Peace Corps.? Just start running across the country like Forrest Gump?
Okay, I was insane. Saya’s leaving had driven me insane.
***
Monday I marched into the office with reckless confidence. I shook up my routine, shifted some responsibilities around my staff, and I never looked back. I knew I was smart and capable, and I stopped second-guessing myself. I was assertive in every meeting, and surprisingly never quite stuck my foot in my mouth.
My boss slapped me on the back and was very pleased with an idea I’d stormed into. “You’re doing well,” he told me. I thanked him, then strutted off in a whirlwind to bark out some other orders and get things done.
Tiffany stopped by my office with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. I looked up, pausing for only a few moments on the exposed cleavage in her low cut top before welcoming her in.
“You’ve been so busy this morning, I noticed you never got your usual coffee.”
Startled, I reached my hand out. “Uh, thank you.”
“Cream, two sugars, right?”
She was two for two on the surprise list. “Right. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Tiffany smiled, then turned to the door. She paused long enough to let my gaze drop to a perfectly heart-shaped ass, and then she was out the door.
How long had Tiffany been noticing me? For a long time I would imagine. How long had I been trying not to notice her? From the day she arrived. She was beautiful and had huge tits, but I was already married. Tiffany was the young, pretty girl that almost every company has. The sunny personality, the perfect hair, the bright eyes with long eyelashes. The aerobics-toned body, the slightly sluttish attire, the one girl everyone wants to bang and everyone knows it. That was Tiffany.
I did my best to put her flirting out of my mind. I wasn’t very successful.
***
Tuesday morning (very early morning, more like middle of the night), I thrust once, twice, three more times and then my balls were squeezing and my pecker spurting its load into the receptive chasm. Almost immediately, I was asleep.
When I awoke, the sun was just barely over the horizon. The light coming through the window was just enough for me to see Tiffany’s sweet face, still asleep on the pillow next to me.
Damn, I’m such a stupid cad.
I tried to remember what had happened last night. But my only dim memory, beyond all the alcohol clouding, was that of passing out on top of Tiffany’s huge tits: round, perfectly soft but firm melons of joy to pillow on.
I didn’t know what to say to her, but she gave me a morning blowjob and then it was off to work. She flirted with me more than usual Tuesday, but it was such a common occurrence I don’t think anyone paid any special attention.
Back in my office, I wasn’t worried about Tiffany. I got drunk and I’d used her; nothing more than that. In the end I was thinking how strange it was: I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten laid on a Monday night.
***
Wednesday I was my usual hard-charging self. I had been a workaholic when I first graduated, and I knew how to do it once again. Around 9pm I went home. I lay in bed imagining Saya was on the pillow next to me.
Thursday was the same. I cried again for a few hours, rubbing the pillow where Saya used to rest her head.
Friday afternoon Tiffany finally came to talk to me in my office. I had barely spoken to her since we slept together. She wanted to go out that evening, and I couldn’t find the right way of saying “You were a one-night stand rebound lay”, so I ended up agreeing to go out with her.
We did dinner, and I found out a lot about her while she went off in her usual chatterbox way. But the whole ‘date’ was just a prelude until we went back to my place and fucked like rabbits for the whole evening. Tiffany had a gorgeous body; obviously she worked out vigorously to maintain it. She had shaved her pussy completely bare, and it felt velvety soft on the outside. Inside her pussy, she was even softer, and her inner muscles proved that Tiffany was definitely an expert lover.
Some time after that, I took great pleasure in fucking her up the ass, my hands on her huge tits the whole time. That night, I managed to forget about Saya.
***
Saturday morning I looked in the mirror and realized I didn’t recognize myself. Where was the sweet, sensitive guy who was in love with Saya? Only a week and half without her, and I found myself an emotionally vacant jerk.
This wasn’t being strong and moving on. This was shutting myself in. Not that I knew what to do about it. The only positive thing I could think of was that I wasn’t getting clingy with Tiffany, at least.
I went golfing again. My score was improving…
Perhaps I still could have my ‘perfect concept’. Just paste Tiffany’s face into that hole in my life where the ‘wife’ role belongs. She would be the hot babe trophy wife, just like a hundred other young executives I was acquainted with. Use her for sex and for producing offspring, treat her like an object, give her a credit card and she would be satisfied. Deep down, I believed Tiffany would jump at the chance, and be truly happy for it.
Maybe this was the best I could hope for in my life after true love. I could be married again, and my whole life would be ‘ideal’ again. But for some reason, thinking about all that did not bring me peace. I couldn’t sleep that night.
***
Sunday afternoon Lauren called me for a booty call. This time, she had brought another guy, and we tag teamed her all over her mansion. I’d fuck her while she blew the other guy, and vice versa. We even double penetrated her lying on a shag carpet in front of the fireplace.
We blew our cum into every orifice and all over her body. Lauren was in ecstasy.
I don’t even remember the other guy’s name. He left shortly after. Once he was gone, I complained, “What? Am I not man enough for you anymore?”
She laughed at me. “Didn’t want you to start thinking I was only yours.”
Lauren and I ended up soaking in her hot tub, naked but not really noticing it. I truly enjoyed how comfortable we felt around each other. She was right, by now we were old friends (without the ‘old’ part). She was a special girl, and I knew I could have fallen in love with her so easily; really I would have fallen for her long before Saya ever entered the picture, but her reminders to stay emotionally detached kept me grounded.
The hot water mixed with a few drinks soon had us light-headed and feeling mellow. Lauren had her head back, lazily rocking it side to side and started humming some pop tune. The melody was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then, Lauren really started to talk to me.
“Is this all there is to life?” Her voice was dead serious, the tone she had when we put the flirting and teasing aside, and we were just ordinary people who needed a good friend to talk to.
“Hmm?”
“Oh, it’s just this song I was thinking of.”
“What song?”
She did a fair impression of the singer. “There’s gotta be more to liiiiife… than chasing down every temporary high, to satisfy me…” I realized it was exactly the way Lauren had been living her life since her boyfriend left.
“Cute song. What do you think?”
“That’s what I was asking YOU.”
“I’m as lost as you are.”
We both stewed on that for a while. Then Lauren stopped and really looked at me, regarding me in the close friend light compared to the superficial fuck- buddies light. “Are we in a rut?”
I was a little confused. “How can we be in a rut? There is no ‘we’.”
“No. You seem to be in a rut. I feel like I’m in a rut. So are we, separately, in ruts?”
“Yes, we’re rutting. Only we’re not rutting right now.” I leered at her. We’d finished fucking not twenty minutes earlier, but Lauren was still a hot babe. And the deep conversation was going somewhere I didn’t want to admit to myself.
She reached over and smacked me upside the head. “I’m being serious. I feel like I’ve spent a lifetime doing absolutely nothing, spinning my wheels. My life is going nowhere.”
“Okay, so you’re in a rut.” My mild annoyance at her constant reminders not to fall in love with her popped into my head. “Abandonment issues, remember? How long are you going to hide behind those? How long will it be before you let yourself get attached to anything? To anyone? Or even get a job! Yeah, you’re in a rut.”
“Hey, you too!” Lauren’s voice wasn’t hurt, just indignant. “Saya, while a sweet girl, only ever wanted to be your girlfriend, to enjoy your time together while you had it. I warned you at least twice! But you had to go out and get attached. So now where are you? Any better off than you were when I first met you?”
Leave a Reply