MILF: Risque Intentions (2 page)

              About two weeks in, I caved and called Blaise over to keep me company. After my fourth cup of wine, I drunkenly texted him as I tried to convince myself that nothing was going to happen. Absolutely nothing. At the same time, I couldn’t get the image of his dick out of my brain. Our rendezvous in the car had been burned into the back of my mind. When I was horny, I thought of him instead of any of the many times Marco and I had fucked. It was Blaise that I wanted. Lucky for me, he was at the house within the hour. He brought more wine with him.

              We spent most of the night talking and watching shitty reality television reruns. He told me about his decision to go to law school instead of medical school. “It was a lesser of two evils at the time, but it’s captured my heart, soul, and energy, now,” he’d said. It was oddly reminiscent of my accidental involvement in the tiny tech startup that I now ran and managed as a multi-billion dollar enterprise. I was fresh out of college, desperate for a job, when an old friend from high school contacted me about the opportunity. Something told me to do it, though it went against every logical fiber of my being. Now it was my life.

              Then we talked about Marco, which I remember being hilarious for some reason. We mostly told embarrassing stories, most likely. We talked about past relationships and first loves. We talked about our parents and our siblings. We talked about interests and old worn out dreams we’d stopped pursuing. I found out that we had a lot in common and a lot more to learn. I remember feeling a sharp discomfort in the pit of my stomach. It felt similar to losing a loved one but could be best described as regret. I was almost frustrated that I had met Marco before I’d met Blaise.

              “What was your first time like?” he asked me. Our legs had gotten tangled up in one another and I was leaning against him, my arms wrapped around his torso. A finger slowly traced every detail of my face before trailing down the curve of my neck to send shivers down my spine.

              “It was nice, actually. I was a senior in high school and my best friend and I had made a pact that we would do it if one of us was still a virgin by the month before graduation. We both were. So he took me out to dinner and a movie, set up the back of his van with blankets and candles and music, and we took our time getting to know each other and how he whole deal worked. It ended up being a lot of fun.”

              “That’s beautiful. You still talk to him?”

              “Oh, no. Eric and I made a mistake by having sex that night. He’d had feelings for me for a long time and losing his virginity to me just kind of messed everything up.” I snuggled closer to him and yawned. “What about you? What was your first time like?”

              “Well, nothing like yours,” he laughed. “I was fifteen and I had just made the football team. Marco, who was my best friend at the time, had just lost his virginity the weekend before. He’s always been about fairness and keeping friendships on an even playing field, so he found a girl for me to go out with the weekend after that. It was clumsy and awkward and awful. I found out after that she was the same girl that Marco had fucked. I know because she told me I was a better kisser but a much worse fuck. It was mortifying.”

              A peal of laughter rippled through me. “So the two of you have always been eskimo brothers?”

              He grinned and his hand slipped lower, under my blouse, to cup a breast. “Only once so far.” When his lips met mine, they tasted not of wine but of blue raspberry candy and well-kept secrets. I wondered if he had actually just been chasing after all of Marco’s girls since the beginning. Part of me was a little bit thrilled by the idea of being part of such a sick scheme. Most of me knew that he was telling the truth.

              The kiss was slow and guarded at first, but soon after he reached around to grab my ass and pull me into his lap. Both of our movements became frenzied then. I pulled him into me by his hair and he grabbed my waist, using as leverage to grind against me. I could feel his already hard cock through my panties and gave a pleased moan. “Are you wet for me, baby?” he asked, dipping one hand down below my skirt to touch me over my panties. “Fuck. You’re soaked. Through your underwear.”

              “Only because I’ve been thinking about your cock since you got here.”

              “Yeah?”

              “Yeah. I want you inside of me so bad. You have no idea.” I didn’t know what had taken over me. I never talked that way. Not even to Marco. But I was just telling the truth and following his lead and fuck did it feel good. Even drunk, every cell in my body was on fire with sensation. I heard him groan and he started to kiss and nibble my neck. The little ministrations drove me wild and I pressed harder against his dick, rubbing myself up and down its length. I was sure I was going to burst if I didn’t get him inside of me that second. The arousal was so much that it was painful.

              As if reading my mind, he pulled down his sweatpants and ripped my panties to the side. I sank down on the length of his cock without a moment’s hesitation. It felt incredible. Like me, he wasted no time and started to buck up into me at a pace that left me breathless. Like he had in the car, he used his hands to guide me and set the rapid pace. He filled me so fucking perfectly. I couldn’t think of anything except for the way his dick was hitting all the right spots inside of me.

His hands reached around to grab me by the ass again and he flipped me over onto my back without stopping for a second. He readjusted to position my legs over my head and started pounding into me even faster. I couldn’t believe how fucking deep he was inside of me. I had never felt anything like it. It was then that I realized I had been screaming for several seconds in complete fucking pleasure. All at once it seemed, he came and I followed just seconds after. We lay there, panting and sweaty, with huge dopey smiles on our faces. I knew in that second without a doubt that he was the best sex that I’d ever had but that I would definitely have better if the relationship continued.

I can’t remember much of what happened after that. I knew that we made it to the bed eventually because that was how we woke up in the morning, entangled in one another’s arms. That was how I woke up almost every morning leading up to my wedding. Let me just say now that I was more than correct about the sex only getting better after that first night. Blaise fucked me in ways I had never even seen in porn before, much less imagined on my own. And all the while, we got to know each other and I felt like I was gaining a best friend. I could talk to Blaise for hours. I felt like I could trust him. I never wanted to let him go.

But I knew that I would have to. Two weeks before the day of my wedding, he was over again. I cooked lasagna. We sat around the house in our underwear, drank and ate and laughed. It was a beautiful night. Finally,as I began to sense the beginnings of heat in the air, I crawled on top of him and rested my head on his chest.

“Blaise?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“This is our last night together.”

There was a pause and a sharp intake of breath. His gentle fingers stroked my hair absently a couple of times. “I know. I could tell by the way you were acting.” He pulled me up to look at him and flashed a sad, defeated smile. “I would tell you that you could break up with Marco instead of me but I know better than to try to change your mind.” A stinging pain ran through my heart. It had never occurred to me that this might even be difficult for Blaise. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he had grown attached. I shrugged and pushed the pain to the very back of my mind. That was not the kind of thing I could afford to think about that night.

“Let’s make it count, yeah?”

He didn’t answer me verbally, instead sliding his hands down to unhook my bra and slowly peel it off of my body. Then, moving to kiss me and switch positions with me, he slipped my panties off. It was the first time I had been completely naked around him before. We typically weren’t able to wait that long. He continued to kiss me, a slow burning connection, as he stripped his own underwear off. The heat of his entire body pressed against mine and I could feel every inch of his flesh. I broke the kiss to throw my head back and moan. The tantalizingly slow speed at which he moved was driving me insane.

One hand slid up the side of my body while another played with a nipple. His mouth found its way to the other one and a gasp escaped my mouth without my permission. I wanted more than anything to beg him to fuck me right away but I knew that we both needed the moment to last as long as possible. It was one incredibly passionate, drawn-out goodbye that would need to last us a lifetime.

He used his hands and tongue to tease my body for what felt like an hour before the head of his penis finally teased my entrance.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, pressing his lips against my ears. The weight of him on top of my chest felt incredible. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed up into him, trying to use my legs to force him inside. He wasn’t budging. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

With one hard thrust his entire length was inside of me. Expecting our usual pace, I bucked against his hips, but he stayed put. He waited for me to relax before beginning again at a place so slow and agonizing that I lost all sense of comprehension. All I could think about was getting him to fuck me harder and faster. I dug my nails into his back and my heels into his thighs and he gradually picked up the pace. He kept on like this for a good several moments before neither of us could hold out any longer. He was only about three hard, fast thrusts in when I came the first time. The sensation of him driving into me over and over to the rhythm of my own orgasm had me right at the edge and ready to burst again in no time at all.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” I told him. This encouraged him and soon we were back up to our normal speed. The vibrations and the intensity felt familiar and new all at once. He was coming before I knew it and I right alongside him. He collapsed on top of me and I held him close, stroking his hair and nuzzling him with my cheek. It was that moment, after, that was the most precious and meaningful. As beautiful as the entire tryst had been, it was finally over. I felt like one weight was lifted off of my shoulders and another dropped right back down.

“You know, it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker to see you walk down that aisle in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah? Well imagine going home to nuptials with Marco while all I can think about is you giving it to some lucky, idiotic bridesmaid.” Blaise picked his head up to look at me, a thoughtful look in his eye.

“What if we don’t have to worry about that?” he asked. “Like, what if, just for that night, we promise to stay away from other people. Just, like, pretend to get so drunk you pass out before sex. Or get so drunk you pass out before sex. And I won’t go home with anyone. And after that night we aren’t obligated to be in the same building, much less see one another with anyone else and so we’ll never have to be bothered by those thoughts again.” His drunken explanation made me giggle, but I nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Okay. That sounds like a plan to me.”

So, on my wedding day, I drank everything I could get my hands on and avoided my husband’s kisses and affections as much as possible whenever laise was around (which was always). I tried not to check to see if her flirted with other girls, but I did check and he didn’t. I watched him drive home alone and then Marco and I went home to our hotel where I promptly threw up in his shoes and passed out in my wedding dress. It was a perfect arrangement. It was exactly the kind of open-ended closure that I needed. Though I would think about Blaise often during my marriage, I was never discontent about what he might be doing. I knew that if he was with someone else, he was imagining me alone ignoring Marco. And I knew that when I was with Marco, I was imagining him in his apartment alone having opted not to bring the cute girl home from the bar because of me.

Though it was a silly illusion, it was one that kept me sane. On the odd occasion that we were forced to be around each other, we maintained our silent vow to be loyal to each other, even if it was just make-believe. When he rejected a smiling waitress or a busty bar patron, I would smile like an idiot. And when I would ignore Marco to engage in conversation with anyone else, I saw him flashing me the same look.

It was our little make-believe world, but it was a wonderful one.

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Emma Scarlett