Author's Note: The story you are about to read is fiction. In real life, intelligent people use condoms.
See-through blouses and tees have always gotten me hard. It is a biological fact that women have teats, for nursing babies. It is also a fact that when you spell the word as tits, they are for inducing sexual thoughts. And while we know that they wear bras most of the time, for comfort usually, when they wear something that shows you the bra so clearly, you know that they're trying to get your attention.
Her name was —still is — Catherine. All her life she's been called Cat. When you see her, the name Cat draws your mind immediately to the word Pussy, synonym for cunt, slit, gash, twat, snatch, nookie, whatever.
Aged 25, for the last year or so she's been arm candy for some 50-ish banking executive named Lou whose 'wife doesn't understand me' or whose 'wife is frigid' or who's 'getting ready to leave her, ' bullshit like that. And like all 'eternal optimist' women, Cat hung on, waiting to convert her part-time lover into a full-time mate. He kept her in a nice apartment, banged her most lunch times — three openings in two hours - and flew her around the country with him whenever his job took him out of town, which was fairly often.
I'm Pete, short for Peter, which is one of the thousand or so synonyms for that piece of meat that was at the moment drilling a hole in the front of my slacks as I sat with my legs up on her coffee table.
She was walking away from me toward the refrigerator. Her ass jiggled just a little bit and my eyes focused on the clearly visible panty lines under her tight white designer jeans. My cock pressed harder as I imagined it buried deep inside of her. She turned profile to me in order to bend down into the fridge for two more beers. I stared at her pointy tits poking out of her tee shirt, dreaming of sucking on those pencil eraser nipples. She looked up at me and smiled. In my warped mind, it was an inviting smile.
"What are you looking at, Pete?"
She knew fucking-A well what I was looking at, and she never expected me to answer her question, so I didn't. She walked back toward me, handing me one of the beers. Then she bounced down onto the couch next to me and put her feet up on the table next to mine.
Just barely touching me, and looking not at me but at the kitchen area, she asked in a low voice, "What are you thinking now, Pete?"
The truth was easy. I was thinking about pushing her down, yanking off her jeans and panties and fucking her blind. Fortunately I didn't say that, for in retrospect it would have been a dumb move. Instead I articulated a totally different truth.
"I was wondering why you asked me to come over here this evening," I said.
Her reply was to turn her face into my shoulder and begin to cry hysterically. Not knowing what was causing the tears, all I could do was to put one arm around her shoulder to comfort her. Jeez, her body was so soft, her nipples so hard against me. If it was possible, I'd say that my cock was even harder than it had been a few moments earlier. When the sobbing ebbed, she pulled her face away from my shoulder and turned to look at me, answering my unasked question.
"I think Lou is ready to dump me. He told me that he had to fly to San Francisco on a moment's notice but his secretary told me that he was taking his wife to the Bahamas for a few days vacation. I think he wants to get back together with her." With that out of her system, she began to bawl all over again, her face in my chest. Again I waited for her to quiet down. When she did so, I put one finger under her chin and lifted her face off of me.
We stared at each other wordlessly, our eyes only inches apart. I tried to read her soul through her eyes but got nowhere. She likewise tried that with me, also to no avail.
Oh shit, I thought, here goes nothing. I leaned toward her and gently placed my lips against hers, not knowing how she would react, not even able to make an intelligent guess.
It was like an eternity as I waited. She neither pulled back in rejection nor pressed forward in acceptance. Finally, with a soft sigh, her eyes slowly closed as her mouth opened just a drop, her tongue flicking out toward my lips. I closed my own eyes and my arm pulled her head against me, my tongue reaching out toward hers. Her lips became hard as she returned my kiss.
You may think that I was taking advantage of a damsel in distress, yet I had no compunctions about it. I had wanted her for so long, wanted her tits, her ass, her lips — both sets. I wanted to taste her so badly, to drive my tongue inside her gash until she screamed, to slam my cock deep inside her. And she was doing nothing to stop me. Oh yes, every so often our lips would part and she would whisper 'No' but then she would give lie to her own words as her mouth pushed back against mine.
My hand was soon under her tee shirt, squeezing, caressing, fondling. 'No', and then another 'No', but each time followed by her free hand atop mine, pulling it hard against her tits. Even through the fabric of her bra, they were as soft as I had imagined. Toying momentarily with the idea of slipping my hand around her back and doing a one-handed unfastening, I opted instead just to push her cups up past her nipples. Bare tit was no novelty to me, but Cat's tits still were, after so much unrequited lust.
Her sweater slid up over her melons with just a little effort. I latched on with my mouth, suckling — is that the right word when the tits have no milk — like a baby to fulfill my long held fantasy. Again a soft 'No', followed quickly by a silent 'Yes' as she moved my mouth from one nipple to the other. Twisting my head slightly, I could see the damp spot forming at her crotch.
Two open bottles of beer sat on the table, going flat and warming to the background sounds of Cat's moaning. As I worked on her nipples, I ran the night's chronology through my mind. With Lou away, wherever he might be, Cat was free for the whole night. Living alone, with no one to keep me company except for my cock, I too had no need to rush home. So what would it be? Mouth and pussy were a given, though I'd have to let her decide the order of things. Her asshole was iffy. She had told me once how much Lou liked to give it to her up there, but that didn't mean she'd let me do it the first night.
My hand slid down to her wet spot. As I started to rub it, suddenly the night changed.
"NO," she said, her voice rising. Her hand grabbed mine and lifted it off of her crotch. "I can't, Pete, I just can't."
The night was over and I knew it instantly, my cock shriveling back into nothingness. Still, that didn't stop me from trying. I've had pretty good success in the past getting a woman from No to a screaming Yes.
"What's the matter, Cat? You seemed so ready. Did I do something wrong?"
"Oh Pete, do I really have to explain it to you?" she asked with a sigh.
No, she definitely did not have to explain, but I wasn't ready to give up.
"Is it because of Lou? Do you feel like you're being unfaithful?"
"You know very well that it's not about Lou, you dummy. It's about Mom and Dad."
Ah yes, that one little detail that I haven't mentioned. Cat and I had come out of the same womb, five or so minutes apart. And my beloved little sister, who had no hesitation in breaking some other family apart, did not wish to couple with her only sibling into 'the beast with two backs.'
But I kept begging, like a married man with a dried up wife.
"Cat, please, you've got to help me. My balls are ready to explode."
She gave me a weird smile, half sympathetic and half sadistic, angry.
"Would you like me to give you a pair of my panties? You can jerk off into them like you did when we were kids."
I opened my mouth to respond but then thought better of it. What I had to say could only hurt her. Instead I just said goodnight and walked out.
If it hadn't been for the need to get out of Cat's apartment before saying something that I didn't want to say, I would have taken a leak on my way out. As it was, my first goal on the brightly lit twelve block walk to my own place was to find a bar where I could empty my bladder — and maybe pick up a willing pussy to get myself off.
I found one quickly, a bar, that is. Walking into the dim bar, I put a twenty in front of the bartender, ordered a Jack Black neat and headed for the men's room. Aah, I said to myself, as Cat's beer poured out of me onto the yellow urine cake under my cock. Back in the bar, I took the drink down in one gulp and ordered a second one, this time on the rocks for slow sipping. I looked around, squinting in the dim light.
"No unattached snatch in here tonight?" I asked the bartender. He looked over the top of his glasses at me.
"You've never been here before, have you?" And then I knew. The next woman to walk into that bar would be the first one in years.
A man sat down next to me, introduced himself as Bill and started to talk about baseball. But I could tell that he was just feeling me out, trying to decide if I was gay or had just stumbled into the wrong bar. Deciding to make him wait for an answer, I laughed to myself as he tried to frame the question obliquely. Finally, he gave up and asked it right out.
"Do you know that this is a gay bar?" he asked.
"I didn't when I came in, but I do now," I replied unhelpfully.
"Have you ever... ?"
I waited for him to finish the question, making him sweat out the words. Then I played dumb.
"Ever what?" I asked.
.... There is more of this story ...