Do you know the difference between love and lust? I’m really not sure I do. A wise man once said you’re in love when you put her welfare and happiness ahead of yours. I suppose that’s a good enough definition for me. Of course when do you know, in a crunch, that you’d really do that?

Everybody knows what lust is. A desire so strong if you are left without satisfaction you suffer. But you’ll get over it, easily, perhaps just minutes later.

I know what jealousy is. That’s the feeling I had when I found my wife was having an affair. I was hurt, I was angry, I was sure she didn’t love me. When we had the first talk I told her if there was any chance of us saving our relationship, she had to stop; she promised she would. For eight months we worked hard, marriage counselors, long talks at night, weekends at bed and breakfasts. I was almost there, in the times I remembered about her and him I didn’t get quite so perturbed any more. Yes, that’s when I found the hotel room charge on her credit card. That’s jealousy.


Just a few weeks into my relationship with Alicia, I wondered if what I was feeling was jealousy. I always associated the feeling with love – if you’re not in love, how can you be jealous? But I certainly felt something.

I knew Alicia slept around. I picked her up at a bar one Friday night, a rather plain looking woman, soft auburn hair, almost no makeup, thick lips, austere bifocals. But she filled her blouse out well, when she leaned into me at the bar I could see the lace of her bra. She waited for me to make the offer, her only question was, “Is your place clean?”

“Moderately so.”

“The first thing I’m going to do is go into the bathroom, if the toilet isn’t sparkling you can expect me to leave.”

I shook my head, it’d been a few days since I’d swabbed the floor. “Well, how about your place then?”

“No good. I never invite a guy home, I can’t have any chance of my son figuring it out.”

God, I wanted her. “How about a hotel?”

“Now you’re talking,” she agreed, the nearby Comfort Inn would be fine. “If the room isn’t clean, we can simply ask for another one.”

Shy wasn’t in this girl’s vocabulary. She stripped for me almost immediately, I was delighted by her bare pubes, she knew her way around my cock. I was this close to coming from her blow job at least four times, she kept doing something that blocked me. She couldn’t keep her body still while I ate her, flailing her arms and moaning so loudly I wondered if the people passing by the door could hear. And when she climbed on top of me, started thrashing around on my cock, her glasses slid off her nose and clattered to the floor. But she didn’t stop to worry about that, intent only on her own pleasure. I could hold off only long enough to make sure she was in orgasm.

Her cell had beeped during our struggles, she paused to look at it. “Nothing important,” she admitted, “I had to know if my son needs me. But it’s only a guy, probably looking for a booty call.”

She turned on her stomach, we talked.

“Are you married?” I asked.

“Used to be. Are you?”

“It only lasted a couple of years,” I admitted.

“She was fucking around on you, wasn’t she? How long have you been divorced?”

“Nineteen months. You?”

“Going on five years now. We have a son, nine years old, joint custody. This week he’s at his dad’s place.”

“That’s got to be rough.”

“Not really,” she said. “I divorced him, I was a virgin when we got married and I knew our sex sucked, he didn’t want it to get better. Other issues, too, of course, money and he could be an asshole. So it’s better for my son this way. He’s still got both parents, we both love him, and this way I get to fuck around every other week.”

We started again, it took me another half hour to get ready for the encore, an interlude that suited her perfectly. She responded to my tongue and touches as a trained race horse does, orgasming blazingly. I found her nipples loved to be bitten softly, I found I liked the same treatment. She sucked on my toes, laughing when I shook with tension. When I was finally ready we went through the paces again, she sat on the credenza while I screwed her, she draped herself over the back of the chair spreading her legs around the small of my back. She seemed finally done, she laid sedately on her back while I prodded into her, encouraging me to reach completion once again.

“So how did you get so good at sex?”

“Practice,” Alicia laughed. “Believe it or not, I never had an orgasm until after I got divorced. Not even from masturbation. After we were separated I let this guy take me out, I figured it was time I moved on, and as soon as he put it in me I went off! I wasn’t quite sure what it was, not then, but when we got together a couple weeks later there it was again! And I learned I could bring myself off in bed by myself. Or in the bathtub, or in the living room, or . . . ” She laughed, a soft giggle. “We dated for four months and it bursa escort started getting a little serious so I broke it off, and I picked up a guy at a bar one night. Yep, fireworks again. One of my girlfriends who’d been around the block seduced me, and I found out girls can be almost as good as guys. And she explained to me what guys like, she showed me how to give a blowjob to a banana . . . You going to leave now?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Cool. Buy me breakfast.”

We woke up around four in the morning, it was quick but satisfying. And at nine o’clock, we spent a great fifteen minutes in the shower, then we spent twenty-five on the bed and we showered again. I ran out of condoms, but it turned out she had a three-pack in her purse. “For emergencies,” she tittered.

Over the grand slam, I asked if I could see her that night. “Sorry, I’ve got a date. But here’s my number. Don’t be worried if it takes me a couple of days to get back to you, I don’t want my son to know what his mother does in her spare time.”

I hit the bar again the next night, accompanied by my friend, Jimmy. We made the rounds, I told him about this fantastic brunette who screwed my brains out the night before. We had some luck with this pair of divorcees, and they wanted us to go back to their place. But I wasn’t in the mood. Had I had enough sex for one weekend? That’d never been a problem for me before. I told Jimmy to go ahead without me, he later told me he’d slept with both of them, but Jimmy had a certain lack of preciseness in the story, I assumed he’d struck out.

As I drove home, it wasn’t later than 11:30, I wondered how Alicia’s date was turning out. Was she even then on her knees, letting the other guy stick it to her hard? I wasn’t upset about it or anything, Alicia had been very honest with me about her notions. Still, I sort of wished I was the one with her. I thought about calling her, perhaps the date had gone bad. But I remembered her laughter as she joked about booty calls. Instead I just put ESPN on, let it dull me to sleep.

I gave her a call late Monday night. “Hey, how are you?”

“Just fine. I got Robbie to sleep, just having a glass of wine.”

“Oh, he’s there tonight?”

“Yeah. My ex and I swap off every Sunday night, this is my week.”

“Okay. So, what are you wearing?” I asked.

“Nope, I can’t go there. Robbie’s the most important thing in my life, I don’t take any chances when he’s here.” So I was denied phone sex and sexting. But then I realized all the other guys were denied it too.

“Well, I really had a great time Friday, you were fantastic.”

“You were too,” she complimented, “very stimulating, if you know what I mean.”

We went on to ordinary subjects after that, I found she liked historical movies about the old European kings and queens. That her favorite place to travel to was the mountains in the spring.

After fifteen minutes we wrapped up. “Okay, so listen, I don’t normally talk to guys the week my son’s here. I don’t even answer the phone. But I made an exception in your case, because you’re new and I really like you. What are you doing Sunday night?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Well, I was hoping we could get together. You don’t know how much I’m in the mood after I have a week with my son.”

“It’s a date! Why don’t you let me buy you dinner . . .”

“. . . That won’t be necessary,” she interrupted. “Why don’t I just pick up something – do you like Chinese? – and I’ll just bring it over to your place.” I agreed rapidly.

I spent much of the weekend scrubbing my apartment, the bathroom glistened. On Saturday I went with Jimmy to our bar and met another woman. She invited me home, I accepted. But my heart wasn’t in it, while we were in the deed she had a rather dead ass. After I dribbled into her listlessly, I made my excuses and left quickly. The girl didn’t expect me to call again, I got the feeling.

Alicia arrived at my place just after seven. She attacked me with kisses, her hand was at my zipper quickly. She let me undress her in the living room, sat on the couch and let me at her clit, bucking and screaming as I ate her. I crawled between her legs, she told me she needed me. Her box was hot, I tried to hold off but it was no use, she bellowed as we screwed. “Go ahead, I know you need to,” she cheered, and I emptied myself into her twat. The whole thing hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes after the door was closed, but it was the best quickie I’ve ever had.

“I’m disappointed,” I said.

“Why? Because I didn’t give you a blow job? There’s plenty of time for that.”

“No, I worked all weekend on my toilet, and you didn’t inspect it.”

We laughed, but she trod nakedly into the bathroom. “I knew it would look great,” she taunted. The spring rolls and cashew chicken was still warm, we ate at the kitchen table in the buff. For the first time I actually took time to look her over. Believe it or not, the previous Friday and earlier that evening, I hadn’t concentrated bursa escort bayan on her features, I was much too intent on using her. Now, I took my time.

She wasn’t a classic beauty. Her face was pear shaped, her jaw jutted a bit. The glasses she always wore could have had more stylish frames. Her hair was a bit too fine, it waved wildly. Her lips were thick, and her smile lacked a glow to it. And yet, her demeanor reeked of sex, of craving. I found myself becoming hard again for her.

She dragged me into the bedroom after the meal, she was hungry for more of me. This time we weren’t trying to set speed records, we kissed fervidly, she pressed her body against mine. Once again I nibbled at her nether region, she bellowed in pleasure. She waved me to kneel above her with my cock at her face. “I want you to come on my tits,” she begged, and then proceeded to let me fuck her mouth, her hands were on my balls and shaft as she licked the tip. It was marvelous, and when I felt the bile rising I backed away and she stroked my cock as it spilled onto her chest and chin. I noticed a glob on her hair, she didn’t seem to mind.

When I was done she collected a wad of it, moved it to her button and used it as natural lubrication as she brought herself off again. I timed it, one-thousand and one, one-thousand and two, and was up to eighty-seven before she opened her eyes and sighed blissfully.

I tried to get her to stick around but she wouldn’t have it. “It’s a school night,” she said, “and I know if I stay we won’t get any sleep and I’ll be worthless tomorrow.”

“How about dinner on Friday?”

“That’d be great. I’ll come over and we can leave from here?”

It was evident I still wasn’t welcome at her place. “That’s fine.”

And she smiled slyly as she picked up her jacket, “Should I bring an overnight bag?”

I tried calling her Wednesday night, around nine, she didn’t pick up. I got the return call on Thursday, we talked for fifteen minutes, she wouldn’t let me invite her over for the night. “No, tomorrow is coming. Try not to jerk off, there’ll be more for me if you don’t,” she laughed.

She arrived at my house around 6:45 in a chic black dress, plenty of cleavage, plenty of leg. “I got it when I was in Vegas last summer,” she explained. I wondered if she’d gotten the pearls at her neck or the expensive diamond earrings the same way.

I had reservations at Ruth Chris, fifty dollar steaks, hundred dollar bottle of wine. ?The whole thing set me back over three hundred bucks, but it was worth it, I wanted this girl to stick around for awhile. She told me some tales about her childhood while we ate. “Really, I was such a good kid. Girl Scout from the time I was nine, got the award for selling the most cookies three years in a row. Didn’t kiss a boy until my junior year. Very religious, Presbyterian, the whole idea of predestination scared the shit out of me. Met my husband just after I got my associate degree, he swept me off my feet. I’ve always told everybody I was a virgin when I was married, but about a month before the wedding we snuck off to a hotel and I left a red stain on the sheet.”

I told her a few tales about me, she told me she thought I had more, but really, I didn’t. I wasn’t any more wild than other kids in high school and college.

“You called me Wednesday night,” she said, “did you want me to come over?” Her eyes bored into me, I didn’t dare color the truth.

“I was hoping,” I admitted.

“I was over at a friend’s place. A guy friend. Listen, I like sex. You know that, even though this is only our third date. Once I found out guys are different, I decided I wanted to try ’em all. And I’ve made a pretty good start. Please don’t ask me how many, I won’t tell you, I’ll never tell you. But I won’t lie to you about it either. I hope you’ll take me home and let me show you how much I like you, this wonderful dinner has earned you whatever you’d like tonight. And I hope we’ll see more of each other. You can call me anytime you want, even late at night on the weeks I don’t have Robbie, and if I’m in the mood I might just swing by your place for a quickie.

“But I’m not a one-woman man, I’m not going to be, at least not for quite a while. If you decide you don’t want me on a part-time basis, that’s okay. If you call me, I’ll pick up the phone. If you don’t I’ll be sorry, but I won’t cry.”

I reacted by asking her, “So tell me more about the time you were in Key West, I’ve always been tempted about going down there for Fantasy Fest . . .”

I took her home, of course, and we made dreamy, burning love. As I ate her at one point I placed a finger near her ass, she deliberately wriggled it until my finger penetrated her asshole, she came hard. At another point, we were in doggy, she was right at the edge of the bed and she slipped off and it was almost mystical. I know I came twice, once after about forty minutes when she was in cowgirl, then a couple hours later when we were in a very comfortable position. escort bursa I really didn’t think two people could screw that hard. We slept, exhausted, naked.

When I woke the next morning I found her in my living room in a thin white robe, her nipples poking holes in the fabric, reading a leather bound book I’d purchased on sale just to make my apartment classier, a cup of coffee at her side. She smiled, I sat beside her, we kissed. “E.F. or F.F.?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Eat First or Fuck First! But I warn you, I’m a little sore this morning, you made me use muscles in some strange ways last night.”

We decided on breakfast, I managed to burn some toast and break a yolk of the eggs. It was going on eleven, we jumped into the shower. She got me to stand with my back to the spigot, kneeled before me and proceeded to give me an excruciatingly perfect blow job. She refused to stop until she got me to come, then seemed to swallow it. When she stood she kissed me, I could tell not all of it was down her throat, it was rather exciting in a strange way to be tasting my own sperm.

She let me play with her body on the bed, but it seemed just for forms sake, she didn’t seem to come. Not that she didn’t encourage me, and she said she enjoyed it.

As we dressed, she’d brought jeans, a blouse and a change of underwear, I said, “Why don’t you spend tonight, too?”

She gazed at me wistfully. “You’d really like that, wouldn’t you?”


She didn’t answer me for a few moments, fiddling with her overnight bag, then took her cell out of her purse. She made a call, the person on the other end apparently answered quickly. “Hey, Herb, it’s Alicia . . . yeah, just fine, you? . . . hey, would you mind if I took a rain check for tonight . . . thanks for understanding, bye!” Turning to me, she asked, “So, what are we going to do today?”

We decided to head for the cultural district, I found out she liked bumming around art galleries. We stopped by a supermarket on the way home, picked up chicken and salad for dinner, and she put a few more things in the cart. And she wouldn’t let me insert my credit card into the machine. “My treat. If I pay for another thirty dinners like this, we’ll be even for what you spent last night.”

At my place she turned me onto an old series on Netflix, we ate dinner in front of the TV, of course we made love again in the living room on the couch, it was no less exciting for feeling a little domestic. The next morning I found out she was skilled at making omelettes, we hung out until two when she said she really had to be going, she was picking Robbie up at five.

I asked her if we were going to see each other again, she said, “You’ve got my phone number. Feel free to call anytime starting next Sunday night.” A final lingering kiss, she was gone.

That week, did I have hopes? Of course I did, I was in the early throes of infatuation. If ever there was a perfect woman for me, it was Alicia. I could picture us sitting down to dinner every night, asking about how the day had gone. I thought of vacations in the Rockies. My mind wandered to the wonders of her body, and even more to the intelligence of her brain. Yes, every now and again I recalled her manifesto that she wasn’t a one woman man, but I was able to conveniently turn my attention from that.

Tuesday I gave her a call. In response, I got a simple text. ‘Not when I’ve got Robbie. Call me Sunday night.’

And on Sunday night, at 6:45, I dialed her number. “Hi, so glad you called,” I heard her say in her cheerful contralto, “mind if I stop over there tonight?” Of course I told her to get her ass over. The very first thing she did was stride into the bathroom, take a good look around, then say to me, “God, after a week without anything, all I want is a good hard one. Get your ass in the bedroom.” We screwed, a quickie full of her screams, then a naked sandwich eaten on the bed, then we returned to purpose A – I’m pretty sure that was the first time she lubed her back hole up and let me in there.

By 10:00, she was dressing, and I asked, “So, this coming weekend?”

“Sorry, an old friend is coming into town. He booked a room at the McKinley, we’ve got tickets to Hamilton. I could see you Thursday night, would you like that?”

My hopes were dashed. “Let me think about it.”

“Okay, I’ll keep it open, let me know.”

I gave her a call on Wednesday, asked her if she wanted to grab dinner on Thursday. She merrily said she would, she showed up at the Chili’s wearing a very sexy top, we wound up back at my place for an hour and a half. I was satisfied, but not.

I stewed that weekend, the weekend I knew she lingered in a luxury suite with that old flame of hers, screwing his brains out, not mine. Maybe that’s the first time jealousy over her hit me in the stomach. Over scotch I told Jimmy about it and he tried to talk sense into me. “She told you she wasn’t a one man girl!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She told you she’s not the marrying kind.”

“A guy can hope, can’t he?”

“Not about her, you can’t. Maybe in a year or two. But not now. You hardly really know her,” he pointed out. “If you get in her face about it she’ll give you the old heave-ho.”



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