Laura and Don Pt. 02

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Since parting company with Laura on Saturday, Don Pelfrey had seen and heard nothing from her. Not a text, nary an e-mail, absence of voice mail, total lack of PM through social media. Indeed, she had posted nothing of any kind on social since then. Not that he expected a broadcast to the world that she’d picked up a guy Friday night and had three orgasms.

As the weekend wore on he wondered if he should get in touch first. He liked her, maybe more than he wanted to. It was his weird idea that they should spend a month communicating, getting to know one another, but staying physically apart that whole time. What started as a one-night stand by two strangers, who keep an emotional distance from others, had ended with neither able to break loose completely. It was a first for him, and from what he could tell, for her too.

By Sunday night he was losing a mind game with himself. He had switched over to thinking that he should wait for her to make contact, sometimes deciding that this way he’d stay in charge, then thinking that he needed to know what move she’d make before he countermoved, then worrying that if he contacted first she’d feel pressured. It wasn’t until noon Monday that he realized that she was the only thing he was thinking about.

Needing to concentrate more on work, he ditched Plan A and sent her an e-mail:

‘Just wanted to get in touch. Hope you’re okay with this talk-but-don’t-meet thing. Anyway, I’d like to get to know you, but I want to respect your space. Does this make any sense?’

Once that was sent, he was able to focus on work for a few hours, mining data for a client. He even got through a task group meeting with his usual focus, and found himself getting sharper as the meeting went on. Okay, maybe I’m not hopelessly in love with smart, nice-looking Laura Canfield, he thought. As if that would be a bad thing.

Towards the end of the day, though, he found himself getting edgy. Nothing from her had shown up in his e-mail. As they had noted after the failure of her attempt to get him to walk out on her, they were both absorbed in their jobs, if not totally fascinated by them.

She’s busy, he told himself. Sharp, formidable Laura Canfield.

He logged on when he got home. Work had come with him, as it usually did. The e-mail window was open as a routine part of what he did most nights, alone in his cozy apartment, which in some ways was similar to the apartment of—

He slumped in his chair, finishing the thought:

Brilliant, smoking hot Laura Canfield.

Hazel eyes. Exotic when he first saw her at the bar, when she wore a little blue eye shadow. No less compelling the next morning, makeup long gone.

It was almost 9 p.m. when her e-mail launched him out of his torpor:

‘I’m relieved that you’re not making sense of this either. I really enjoyed our time together and maybe there will be more of it, but right now I need to get you out of my head so I can stay work-focused. Thanks for making the first move and sending. I’ve been learning how much of a coward I am. Time to stop rewriting this and just send.’

Relief washed over him, then almost immediately drained away. Should he reply to the reply? No. The ‘need to get you out of my head’ stated pretty bluntly that she didn’t want another contact right away. He should let everything stay where it is, for a while.

His previous successful pickup had been three weeks earlier. He had trouble remembering anything about her. That was partly because the tryst was a success in all respects, with the fourth F (forget ’em) achieved. But he usually had some residual recollection of his partner and what they had done. Instead, his mind’s eye returned to Laura, standing nude in morning light, saying that she would never in her life sext anyone, so he’d better look while he could.

Brown hair curled in at the nape, with bangs. Lean limbs. Nice, not-too-small breasts, which had responded strongly to his fingers and lips.

Those hazel eyes.


Don got through the week somehow. Mostly he stayed focused on work, but there were instances of Laura moments barging into his awareness (a witty remark here, a light touch of slender fingers there). The moments made him think he should try to place at least a partial fourth-F over her. It was Laura who said that, during their arm’s-length month, they should sleep around.

No, she didn’t say it, he corrected himself. She asked. Neither of them ever answered, so the topic just hung in the air.

Don wondered if he should e-mail her about that now. Find out if either one felt exclusive about the other. Decide if sleeping around now counted as cheating, punishable by permanent scorched earth between them.

He re-read her e-mail. No sex references, just ‘enjoyed our time together.’ He looked at her social media stuff. Nearly all of it was about work, with a little on her parents and siblings, and on excursions and charity work. She gave away nothing on her dating. So, he concluded, if he sent her güvenilir bahis a message about whether it would be okay to jump into bed with somebody else, she might delete it instantly and begin the earth-scorching process.

He didn’t want her mad at him. He didn’t want her to go through the hurt that would accompany her anger.

He felt like a wimp. Just go live your damn life, he commanded.

As the weekend approached, he checked around to see what his usual crowd was up to.

Arnie, a jolly, roundish guy known as ‘The Icebreaker,’ wasn’t available that weekend. He usually led the pack of guys, by making funny introductory remarks to groups of women. He had, in fact, gotten lucky last Friday with one of Laura’s friends, Marcie, and they were actually going out this weekend as a couple. Don preferred, as Laura clearly did, to hang back and scope out a group of the opposite sex, looking for a smart, interesting, witty one. That might not be as easy without Arnie in the vanguard.

In fact, the only other guys from the usual group who were available were Russ, an alpha male, and Walt, a tall, almost-geeky programmer who seldom did well trying to hook up. At Don’s insistence, they didn’t go to last week’s hunting ground, a bar called Hazlett’s. Instead he got them to go far across town to Culture Counter, more of a coffeehouse than a bar, but with a definite singles vibe. Don had hooked up twice here, and he could remember almost nothing about either woman or the sex they had. (There was this busty redhead, who drank a lot and barely stayed awake through their copulation.)

It was while they were entering Culture Counter, and hearing mic feedback from a poetry slam, that it struck Don that this was the sort of place Laura might frequent on her own. The crowd here was artsier and more intellectual than the one at your average singles bar, and even allowing for the poseurs and hipsters, there would be plenty of genuinely smart people of all genders. It could be a place where she’d hang out just for the conversation, with no expectation of hooking up.

He was both relieved and disappointed to see that Laura was nowhere to be found.

The night might have been a disaster. Russ, a chick magnet, didn’t see anyone he considered a hottie. He got out his phone, checked in with one of his booty calls, and bailed. Yet Walt got into deep and far-reaching conversation with a techie group, and looked to be making a connection with a couple of the women. Don, no slouch when it came to tech, joined in with both substance and some appropriate witticisms, clearly lighting up a young lady named Becca.

Don persuaded Becca to continue the conversation at an all-night diner, where it became clear that while Becca appreciated Don’s wit and caught all the references, she didn’t add much. Laura had engaged in wordplay with Don and stood her ground. Becca either couldn’t do that, or derived enough enjoyment just from hearing Don hold forth.

Becca was, however, quite motivated for sex. She was about 5′ 3″, curvy, blonde, apple-cheeked, and apparently sweet-natured. She was fine with going to Don’s place, because her two roommates were also on the prowl and she wanted some privacy. She added, however, that she couldn’t stay the night, because she’d be on shift early Saturday in her second job as a barista. (Her first was as a physical therapist.) Don just nodded through all this, relieved that she was taking the lead on all four Fs from her side.

At a shade under 5′ 9″, Don was a conventional match for Becca , in terms of stature. He found that this relaxed him, yet the relaxation in turn nagged at him a little. Laura was 5′ 8″, putting them essentially eye-to-eye, prompting him to stand upright when they had kissed, and showered. There seemed to be a little tension between them over this, although Don had no idea if Laura preferred taller men. The tension wasn’t bad or good, it just existed, and kept him alert.

And while he was thinking this, he had to remember that he had brought a different woman to his place, and he barely helped her out of her coat as she was getting her shoulders free of it. Becca gave him a glance, perhaps having caught him spacing out.

“Sorry,” he said, with a quick head-shake. “Long week. Can I get you something?”

“Your attention,” she said, with a slight edge, hinting at a wit reservoir of her own. But she was smiling.

“You got it,” he said, and gently lifted her chin to plant his lips on hers.

The kiss proceeded to tongue tussling and exploratory hugs. He felt the increasing blood flow to his groin, and his hands eagerly moved across the cotton of her thin blouse, feeling the lushness beneath.

She brought in her hands to unbutton his shirt. One hand moved inside, reached down to find and trace the lines between his abs. “Nice,” she whispered. He felt her legs move as each foot toed off the shoe on the other.

Taking that as a cue, he unbuttoned her jeans. Leaning down because of this, he let his face rest on her türkçe bahis bosom. “Men,” she said with a chuckle, and pulled his shirt up over his head.

Her jeans were tight, and brought her underwear along as he pulled them down. Her vulva was hairless. This stoked Don, and he erected. On a sudden impulse, he knelt and kissed Becca’s nether lips.

“Woooooah!” she said, grabbing his head with both hands. “Yes you may! Sleep is overrated anyway!”

Had she just been waxed, that same day? It was as though hair had never been there. He grabbed both her buttocks, pressing her crotch into his face, and licked into her cleft. She gasped, and her legs jerked twice.

He pulled his face away and hoarsely said, “Bed.”

She laughed, “Okay, now it’s my turn to keep up the conversation.”

He stood, grinning, and they finished undressing each other. Her lacy black bra gave way to thick breasts that drooped a little. Her stomach was as round and smooth as his wasn’t. As she hauled down his pants and boxers, she looked at his prick as it sprang free. “Also nice,” she said.

As they sixty-nined on the bed, he was puzzled by his fascination with her slick pussy even as he slobbered eagerly around, on, and inside it. He’d fucked shaved women, what, three times? Maybe four? He liked it, but never this much. He’d always found pix of shaved nude models arousing, but he had no problem with pubic hair, visually or sexually.

Laura hadn’t shaved. Although she may have trimmed.

Becca gave a sudden, rough suck to his balls, getting his attention. “Yeaaaagh!”

“Not so clever and witty now, are you?” Becca said, and giggled.

“That was foreplay,” he said, recovering slightly. “It got you here, didn’t it?”

She laughed louder. “Welcome back. Although I really liked what your mouth was doing before.”

“Then don’t complain. Just let me know when you’d like to have something else happen here.” He resumed eating her out.

“Ohhhh, I do, but I’m so close this way,” she murmured. She then closed her mouth over the top half of his dick, and sucked and licked gently.

Assuming that he had his marching orders, he put a finger in her vagina and licked her clit rapidly. Her tunnel was warm and wet, thickly fleshed, and he wanted his prick to feel that, even through a condom. She shuddered when his finger, far inside, stroked along the front of her cavity. His tongue forced her clit against his upper lip and her labia. All he asked of a woman’s secretions was that they not repel him, and Becca’s lavish juice did not.

Her legs went into spasms, and she yelped in their rhythm, “Hyeh! Hyeh! Hyeh!” Then: “Heyyyaaaooooooo!” Her legs lifted and her back arched, her nails scraping his ears as she came.

After her muscle tension eased, Becca fondled Don’s prick and gently kissed its head. “Please make me cum again, Mr. Beautiful Wang.”

She got flat on her back, indicating where she wanted him. He put on a condom and set himself between her raised legs.

“That wax job was a great investment,” she said, wheezing. Again she traced her fingers along his abs.

He reached to run fingers through her strawberry-blond hair. “So I should assume this is your natural color?” He said, giving her the half-smile that seemed to set many female hearts a-flutter.

She grinned. “Somehow, all potential evidence to the contrary has been destroyed.”

He guided his prick past her labia. He was fully erect, and it was a tight fit as he pushed slowly along her vaginal muscles. “You okay?” he asked, with an inch to go.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m wet, this is good.” She put her arms behind her head and closed her eyes. Her mouth opened wide as he inserted the rest of the way.

His arms circled her legs, and he gripped her thighs as he started pumping. His heart pounded as he neared orgasm, his testicles tightening. Part of him, however, observed neutrally how Becca arranged their fucking to her best advantage. While she was on her back, her gut wasn’t prominent, and her breasts rolled and rotated nicely on her rib cage. Her wavy hair fanned out on the pillow, lamplight picking out different hues for highlighting. She was at her most attractive.

When she opened her eyes, she saw what she liked, his torso and abs. She made this sex her performance art, and despite the intensity of his desire, he resolved to get her to a second orgasm before he yielded to his first.

It was tough. She writhed and moaned and almost gurgled, mouth agape. Her trunk ground against his, despite his weight on her. He tried to speed up, but her cunt was so tight he worried that it would strip off the condom. At last, she bucked and howled, breasts flipping almost to her chin. With a groan, Don cut loose and spewed, lurching through at least six bursts, which got more moans from Becca.

At last he drew back, getting thumb and forefinger on the rim of the condom to ensure that it remained on his putz as he exited her. “Back in a second,” he said, gasping. He half-stumbled güvenilir bahis siteleri to the bathroom , peeled away the sheath, dropped it into the toilet, and followed it with a stream of piss. Then he washed off.

When he returned, Becca was still on her back, breathing heavily, eyes glazed. “That was great,” she said weakly. He flopped on his back next to her, and she rolled on top. Giving him a kiss and an exhausted smile, she said, “You work hard for your lady fair.”

“I didn’t endure waxing,” he noted.

“You really responded to that,” she said, regaining some energy. “I’ll have to—”

Abruptly, she clamped her lips.

“You’ll have to what?” He asked.

“Give you a titfuck,” she said quickly. “That’ll get us even.”

She’s hiding something, he thought. But he really liked the idea of a titfuck.

She got lube from her purse and spread it on his crotch and between her boobs. With Don still on his back, she set his shlong, flexible but still thick, up against his belly. She rolled her warm tits, maybe C-cups, along his abdomen, stroking him with her cleavage. He erected quickly. She reached below her rib cage to massage his balls. With her other hand she moved a breast around to tease a hard nipple against his semen duct and mushroom cap. Heat built.

She sped up the stroking, then used both hands to alternate, one breast pushing upward as the other descended. She licked and nuzzled his left nipple He yelped, and started cumming, buttocks tightening almost painfully.

She moved her mouth to lick the streaks of semen that jetted past his navel, into his chest hair.

Much later, again breathing close to normally, he said, “Shower before I get you home?”

“Yeah, I wanna loofa your abs,” she said, the grin making her apple cheeks way too cute.

The shower woke them both up, but she shied away from letting him finger-fuck her. “No more penetration,” she said, then kissed him. “Except maybe mouth to mouth.”


He paid attention to driving on the nearly empty streets, but was aware of her using her phone. Both her thumbs moved quickly, in text-generation mode.

Drily he asked, “Is this what was going to come after ‘I’ll have to—’?”

Reflexively she breasted the phone, then realized that doing this gave her away.

“Busted,” he muttered.

“It’s nothing bad,” she said, but with a quaver.

His reptile brain ignited. Does she know Laura? Was this a setup to see if I’d cheat? And was this even cheating?

“I didn’t say it this way beforehand,” he said, thinking he sounded calm, “but I assumed that what we’d do would stay between us.”

“It is,” she said. “I’m just adding to an entry in the SylviBase.”

“The what?” They were stopped at a red light. He showed her his puzzlement, and she showed him her widened eyes at his apparent ignorance.

“It’s a database set up by somebody named Sylvia. A dating app, basically. Women around town share their experiences on the men they date.” Seeking moral high ground: “It helps keep us safe. We know who to avoid.”

“So there’s a dossier in there about me?”

“No names,” said Becca. “No pictures. Just a brief text description of each guy, enough for a user to recognize who a stranger must be.” She smiled. “You have a pretty glowing record. Some ladies regret that you do the four Fs, but they admit that you’re upfront about that.”

The light went green. Don resumed driving, and watched the road, but asked, “And what were you writing about me?”

“That you really appreciate a freshly waxed pussy.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “And I’m adding agreement to earlier posts about you being a generous, giving lover, eager to take a lady on a terrific journey.”

“I could be offended about this,” he said, bristling a little more than he’d expected, even as he lapped up the praise.

“And you’ll do what?” she retorted. “Refuse to date me again? How would that be different than what was going to happen anyway? And what’s already in here?” She held the phone close to his line of vision, and scrolled through slabs of text.

“Are the women who post on this—SylviBase?—identified?”

“Most of us use handles. Doesn’t that prove that we keep all this in confidence?”

“Not really,” he said. He wanted to ask if there was a post on him from Laura. Maybe the posting date would be the tipoff. How widespread was this database?

He pulled up behind her parked car. After unbuckling, she embraced and kissed him. “You were exactly what I wanted tonight. I’m too busy to go steady anyway. Thank you for an excellent roll in the hay, Don Pelfrey, and maybe someday we’ll cross paths again. If you had a good time, thank SylviBase and your own past performance on the dating scene.” Then, with a smile and a cute finger-wave, she was gone.


He ran household errands on Saturday, simple activities that he could perform while letting his thoughts race through a new overload of amorous information.

At the dry cleaner, dropping off and picking up, he relished the memory of the night with Becca. She wouldn’t get a fourth F, but replacing ‘forget’ with ‘like but can get along without’ had the same practical effect.

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