Free Night

I woke up at five on Tuesday morning. My lamp was on. I turned it off.

I scratched my head and got up to check on the kids. The kids were not in their beds.

Oh right: they are with their mom. Good—I can sleep a bit more. I slid under the duvet and hugged the pillows close.

Wait, I do feel the need to check on someone . . .

Oh yeah, I smiled. Melissa.

She was gone now, but she had been here. And she wasn't alone.

My spontaneous Monday night had gone very well.

In my life, there is no spontaneity without structure.

My life is parceled into bits and pieces. I parent half of the week. And those days are set in stone.

You may ask: what am I doing on Wednesday, March 12, 2008? I have the kids. Thursday, October 14, 2010? I have the kids. Want to catch a movie on Monday, June 11, 2007? Sounds good; the kids will be with their mom.

Everything that isn’t about the kids—work, socializing, sex—falls to the other half of my life. And those days and nights are generally booked well in advance.

This week, I saw that Monday evening was unclaimed. Good, I thought. I’ve got plenty of things that went undone while the kids were sick. I’ll take that night to myself, thank you very much.

I worked until evening, when my libido began to intrude upon my diligence.

I had an email from Melissa. We had never met. She is a reader of this blog who lives in the city. Our correspondence is lively, concerned with art and sex. We were sure to meet sometime.

It seemed altogether likely that meeting one another would lead to coitus. She had a novel idea: since sex seems highly probable, what if we met and got to know one another before falling into bed?

Kinky, but I was game.

I dropped her a line. Are you free for a drink after work? Alas, no: she had plans. Perhaps next week?

Fine. I look forward to it.

I went back to work, keeping an eye on Craig’s List in case some interesting posts came along. The most intriguing was a young man looking to get fucked as he wore panties. I requested a photo—he was a pretty girl.

Melissa wrote that her plans had fallen through. Still up for a drink?

We conferred and decided it was stupid to meet over Cosmopolitans at fifteen dollars a pop. Her office was nearby; she would pick up a bottle of bourbon and head to my place.

She’s Southern, like me. She knows that bourbon greases the wheels when paying a visit.

By day, Melissa is a researcher (that’s right, astute reader—another library rat in the mix!). And some nights, like several of my friends, she does a little whoring on the side to make ends meet.

She arrived with a smile and a decanter of Knob Creek.

Melissa is a real beauty, with long wavy red hair, freckles and a lithe figure. As she removed her sweater, I caught a glimpse of her washboard abs, firmed by her morning runs, punctuated by a silver navel piercing.

We poured drinks and settled into an easy conversation. Our correspondence, and her familiarity with my blog, had given us a nice head start on getting to know one another.

Of course, you put two crackers in a room and they are going to find something to talk about.

By the second drink, we were losing our resolve to postpone sex.

“This is very nice,” she said, settling in. “But am I keeping you from other plans?”

“No, not at all. My alternative plan for the evening was to fuck a cute boy in panties, but this is much more appealing.”

“Ooooh,” she smiled. “I might like to watch that.”

“Oh yeah? Well, let me see about that.”

I didn’t have a phone number for panty boy, so I checked to see if he was online. Nope. But Tevin was.

“Hey,” I asked Melissa. “Do you remember my post about the cute black waif, Tevin? The one at the gathering last month?”

“Oh yeah, he sounds adorable.”

“He’s very adorable. Want to get your hands on him?”

“Can we?” She bit her lower lip, impulsively drawing a sip of bourbon.

Of course we can, via the magic of instant messaging.

Jeffferson: Hey there, Tevin.

Tevin: Hey, what’s up?

Jeffferson: I’m hanging out with a very attractive woman and we are about to get naked. Want to join us?

Tevin: Sure that sounds fun. I’ll be there in a few.

I like that about Tevin. No long exchanges of notes, no pleading for a photo of her, no request to talk with her on the phone. He was available and I said she was worth the trip. That’s all he needed to know.

As Tevin made his way to us, I made a salmon croquette sandwich for Melissa. We poured another round, laughing and talking as she ate.

By the time Tevin showed up, we were ready to throw down.

Melissa liked what she saw. Tevin is twenty, handsome, lean and smooth, with shoulder length dreads. Tevin was similarly impressed with Melissa.

And I thought: there are two beautiful people in my living room, ready to have sex with me and with each other, all because they read this blog.

I took the two beautiful people to my bedroom.

There was a swift round of blowjobs.

I busied my mouth on Melissa’s pussy, topped in trimmed red pubes. Pubic hair on a young lady; how rarely we see that nowadays. I ran my hands across her taut body as I worked.

I watched Tevin’s large cock vanish into her mouth, his slender body pushing it deep.

Between the two of them, there was not enough body fat to fry an egg.

She sucked me as he fucked her from behind. Positions were traded, swapped, resumed.

We stuffed our two cocks into her pussy, a first for Tevin, a moan from Melissa.

Tevin has wanted to fuck ass for the first time, and so he took this opportunity to strike that from his “to do” list. I kissed her as she took it, his hips swaying back and forth.

Spanking. Licking. Touching.

We continued until . . . well, I can’t say for sure, because eventually I fell asleep, leaving them to it.

Tevin started for home, making it as far as my couch, where he dozed.

Melissa curled up in my bed.

They were gone when I awoke at five, like memories of a dream.

The next day, Melissa dropped a line, asking if I was free for lunch. She offered to bring soup to my place.

Are you talking about lunch, or did you want a side order of cock with that, I asked?

We know that we can be in the same room and want to tear off each other’s clothes, she wrote. Let’s try to keep our clothes on.

We had a very nice lunch. Chicken noodle soup she picked up at a deli, with Saltines. We chatted amiably, like we go way back.

Our goodbye kiss was steamy. “Sorry we didn’t get in any cock sucking this time,” she smiled. “Perhaps for our next lunch.”