Nostalgia for an outside fuck
Last night brought back a bittersweet memory of another bar years ago
Hello you lovely people,
It's a beautiful warm morning here in Brooklyn, and Zelda and I had a nice walk. She saw some other dogs, ate some grass in the park, and generally behaved herself, which was nice since I was less than 100% after meeting a friend for drinks last night.
On the bright side, I met a friend for drinks last night!
We sat outside, people watched, and knocked back more than a few cocktails. It feels like a new world or at least a slightly safer and happier one.
I don't know about you, but it's been easier for me to look backward than forwards for much of this past year. Maybe it's because the future has felt so uncertain, or possibly it's my nostalgia fetish making an excuse to rear its head.
But while I don't want to live in the past, I do enjoy spending some time there, and last night as I sat outside in the backyard of the bar, I was reminded of another eight years ago in the patio of Madam X.
The party upstairs was either a kissing party or a dirty reading of some sort; I honestly can't remember. I do know that it was both relatively chaste and sexually inspiring at the same time. Sometimes a few kisses or some quiet flirtations go a lot further than something more overt.
Either way, my date and I found ourselves on the patio in the backyard, where she lit a cigarette and climbed onto my lap. It was cold out, which was the only reason we had some privacy, and as I kissed her, inhaling the smoke from her lungs, I grew hard between her legs. She pulled her skirt up higher, but her tights covered her beneath it, and besides, someone might walk out at any moment.
But as we kissed, her cigarette forgotten, both of us became more and more frantic. With a brief look over her shoulder, she undid my jeans and took me hard in her hand. I gripped her ass under her skirt, and she teased me to no end, her lips against my ear.
"You want to fuck me so badly, don't you?"
"Only as much as you want me inside you," I teased back, rubbing against her tights.
"Too bad you don't have the nerve to do anything about it," she moaned.
Some part of me snapped, and another grew bolder.
It was a side I hadn't shown her, and it may have been hidden even from myself for a long time, hibernating during the cold winter months. But with a grin, I dug my nails into her tights and tore them apart with one hard yank. She gasped and looked down as I struggled with her underwear with one hand and my cock with the other.
It quickly became a matter of need overtaking caution.
We bit each other's lips as she raised her skirt, I pushed cotton to one side, and somehow one of us managed to angle us the right way for me to slide my cock inside her as we balanced on the bench while the music drifted down from the party above.
Just as I pulled her to me, thrusting into her, someone laughed, and we soon had company. My date stayed still, letting her skirt cover our sin, and when they asked for a light, she didn't pause to lean in, my cock still within her as she clenched around me and lit their cigarette before lighting her own.
They said thank you, asked if we were enjoying the party, and she moved, sitting up and then dropping back down onto me so quickly I let out a moan. I gripped her ass and kissed her neck, no longer caring what our new friends might think, and when I managed to force a finger into her tight ass, she dropped her cigarette along with all pretense of innocence.
The couple next to us turned and watched as we forgot about them entirely, our mouths and hands doing as much work as my cock and her cunt. She pulled my hair, I wrapped my free hand around her throat, and just like that, both of us started to come.
The invasive eyes of our neighbors pushed us harder, and she moaned into the cold night air, letting it out as I fingered her ass and came inside her for the first time in our short relationship.
Our little voyeurs crushed out their cigarettes, thanked us for the show, and left us alone in the dark, our bodies still connected as I held her tightly, breathing against her chest. Her fingers loosed, caressing my hair instead of pulling, and neither of us moved until the bouncer came outside and told us we should probably take off.
Out on the street, she told me she'd have to explain a few things to her boyfriend. I hinted that I'd probably lie to my wife, and we walked hand in hand along Houston feeling smug and daring.
I kissed her goodbye at the subway entrance, tasting smoke on her lips before walking back across town to find another drink before going home.
A month later, we fucked in the bathroom of another bar before breaking up later that night. We got thrown out of that one mid-fuck, but while we laughed it off, something had changed. We wanted a bed and some privacy, but both of us knew that wasn't what we were. Both of us knew that domesticity wasn't in the cards.
I saw her a year later, and we kissed in the park and reminisced with our clothes on and our hands mainly to ourselves. She asked if it had been love and told her I didn't know.
Last night was a more chaste affair.
It was hot and crowded, and we're not that type of friends. But peering out into the darkness, I could smell the smoke from her cigarettes and feel the weight of her on my lap as we struggled and tore and bit one another on the cold dark patio.
And right then, I did have an answer.
Yes, Amelia. It was love.
And we were fucking great at it.