[MF] Fucking My Waitress- for the last time.

**I’ve written about fucking a waitress i met in a couple of other** [posts](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8uz34k/mf_fucking_my_waitress_today_with_pictures/). **This seems to be the logical conclusion to that story. I’ve realized, now that i’ve read through it, is dark as fuck, and isn’t really the sexy sexy sex time that this sub is looking for. Also, if i’m being extra honest I’m pretty hesitant to post it because I know it’s not going to get many up votes, but I want to be true to my experiences. I still really wish** r/realfuckingemosex **was a real thing. But it’s real. Sex for me, great sex for me, the sex that I remember and care about, and shapes me and changes me, walks that impossibly thin trail between pleasure and pain. Sometimes, more often than not, that sex tumbles of that trail and we find that it just pain and when we finally stop falling we realize the experience has changed us. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse. It’s too early to know here, but goddamn I hope it’s for the better this time.**

We spent July 4th together and watched the fireworks explode in the valley from a blanket in the foothills. Whiskey and PBR and we made out and then I took her home and we fucked. I choked her hard that night. Harder than I’ve ever choked anyone. She laid under me and her tan lines had become vivid from the week she had just spent in Oaxaca. I moved in and out of her. “Who the fuck owns this pussy,” I whispered. She inhaled and then slowly exhaled. “Daddy does. Daddy fucking owns this pussy.” I moved my hands over her firm, little brown tits, her body sinking into the sea of sheets and lightly wrapped my fingers around her neck. She looked me in the eye and nodded and then wrapped her hand around my wrist so I could feel her start to fade and then let go. She felt so slight in my rough hands. Like I kitten or a bird. I could feel the twitch of her nerves and her heartbeat as I slowly squeezed the side of her neck. Her thighs, that had been wrapped tightly around me began to slide down my body and still I squeezed harder, my forearm tense, my cock moving faster and faster in and out of her her perfectly smooth pussy.

I could see her fading and she was the struggling to keep her eyes open and her fingers were slowly losing tension on my wrist. Then her hand slid off all together and she was faded, in that place between and I let go. The room felt so still and her body was slack under me as I continue to pound myself into her cunt. A deep inhale. Hard. Like she was exploding from underwater. Like Jesus in the river Jordan, washed clean of all her cares. Her body flexed. Hard. She was shaking and grabbed me. Grabbed furiously at my back at my arms like she was a blind woman trying to figure out where she was. Grab anything that would bring her back to my house. 4th of july. being fucked. Her fingernails dug hard into my back and she inhaled deeply again and opened her eyes. I was moving as fast as I could in and out of her like I could fuck her back fully awake. Her eyes were watery and she smiled.

“FUCCCCCCCK!!!” she yelled. Practically screamed. And then in an even voice. “Fuck me daddy.” I playfully slapped her face. My cock pistoned in and out of her. I was shaking. “Harder,” she commanded and I increased the speed of my hips slamming against hers. “No. Daddy! Slap me harder” and I cracked my hand across her broad cheek and then did it again- leaving it warm and red to the touch. All she did was biter her lip and then grab the back of my head and brought my mouth down to her warm, red lips. Her lipstick had smeared and faded and we kissed so deeply. So Fucking deeply. My hands ran under her ass and pulled her hips up tighter against me. This usually got her and she ground herself against the base of my cock. Breathing shallow and then deeper, until she whispered she was cumming, and came and collapsed under me. Her hands grabbing my ass and holding me in her. “Use me daddy,” she whispered.

I was leaving for a month to Japan for work the next day and as we laid there naked on top the sheets and watched the early morning light start to cast quiet shadows in my bedroom she ran her hands through my hair and kissed me and I could feel something for her. I could feel something more. I could feel her. She drove me to the airport and dropped me off. “Text me when you get there” she said as I leaned back into her jeep to kiss her. “I will” I said.

I wouldn’t.

At first her texts were familiar. They were sweet.

‘Hey. Hope the flight went well.”

‘I bet it’s late there. I miss you.’

‘Thinking about you. Good night.’

As each text went unanswered the time between them being sent increased. I wasn’t busy. I could have responded, but I was doing it. Again. I was fucking doing it again. I was burning it down. Burning it before it could burn me. You don’t need a degree in pop psychology to fucking understand it. Burning it so I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling. Feeling any of it.

“Tommy. you’re doing it aren’t you.”

3 hours later. It was 2 am at home.

“You said you wouldn’t. You fucking said you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t do this. Please don’t fucking do this.”

And then she stopped. She stopped texting me and I started drinking more like I do, like I always have done, when it feels like it’s all too much. Whiskey from the 7-11 and wine from room service. My co-workers would head out after work and I sat in my room.

My phone lit up.

“Hey. I’m going to go to dinner with Cam.”

“I’m not sure if you care, but it feels like I should tell you.”

Three more days went by.

“You probably don’t care. He’s coming over tonight.”

Then the next day I’m home but I still haven’t answered her and then I fuck my neighbors wife and it says it in the fucking bible “Thou shalt not fuck thy polynesian’s neighbor’s wife.” I’m not sure where. Probably in the middle somewhere. Or the back. I’m not a fucking rabbinical scholar but I’m pretty sure it’s in there.

I spent the night getting drunk and then drunker until 3 am and then her texts came.

“You home? You should have gotten home.”

I stared at my phone. I felt buzzed and dizzy and why was I still watching episodes of The Bachelorette?

The dots started bouncing again and kept bouncing and kept fucking bouncing.

“I know you asked and I still respect you and I’m not sure where we are or what happened or why you’re doing this or if it’s just you or if i did something but you asked and I promised you months ago before things started seeming more real with you and I don’t want to tell you but I promised”

Then the dots started bouncing again and then stopped and then started and then stopped.

“I fucked him.”

“I read your story”

I stared at my phone and things started to spin. And I had done it again.

“Can I come over” I hit send.

I watched the dots bounce.

“Fuck you. I don’t care what you do.”

I stared at my phone and then Becca Kufrin crying over some guy she just sent home and then back at my phone.

It pinged.

“In the morning.”

I held out the Japanese scotch I bought her and watched her standing there. Staring at me. Through me. Like she cared more about the wall behind me and then she started to breathe- breathe heavy. Then she breathed deeply and then her eyes softened and her jaw clenched and I stood there, the bottle now dropping to my side. Why did i do this? Do this again to someone else? Why the fuck did I do this? And then I watched one tear and then another roll down her cheek. She didn’t wipe them away. Like they were holy. Rivulets of frustration and anger creasing down her cheeks. Topographies of sorrow. Her nose was running and still she stared into my eyes and then it hurt. Like electricity coursing up the back of my neck and searing into the back of skull. Into my brain. Heat. Just fucking heat burning into my skull and then my eyes felt hot and wet and they are burning too and my face felt flushed and i could feel warm tears begin to gather and grown heavy at the edges of my eyes and they ran down my cheeks and I am 37 and I am a grown ass fucking man and I am in a basement apartment with a bottle of scotch and I am lost again and then I am there again. I am 18 again.

*I’m handed the receiver.*

*Tommy!*

*Mom won’t wake up!*

*I’m high as fuck and I open and close my eyes hard. Trying to focus. I open my mouth wide trying to clear my head but it’s so dry and I am in my friends basement and I am high as fuck and TOOL is filling all the spaces and gaps in my brain and in the room and the noise is incessant and I reach out a hand and pat the air like maybe that will make the the music fade and I am high as fuck and the music throbs in and around me.*

*Mom won’t wake up.*

*His little boy voice is cracking with panic. He is 8 years old and he is my brother and even through the phone I can hear him trying to hold back the tears. Hold it together. Fucking hold it together. Please hold it together. Please hold it together.*

*Mom won’t wake up.*

*He says its over and over and over and over again like it’s a mantra. A protective recitation. An incantation. Maybe if he says it one more time it won’t be true.*

*Mom won’t wake up!*

*And then I’m driving and it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too vivid and the air in the car feels thick like I’m under water. It’s all too fucking vivid and I am high as fuck and then I’m through the door and he’s there. Shirtless. His little boy body. His eyes are red and he’s grabbing at my hand and tears are now running down my cheeks and his cheeks. There is such panic in his voice. He knows. He knows it’s all different now.*

*She won’t wake up!*

*She won’t wake up!*

*She won’t wake up!*

*And I am in the room with her body and now it’s just her body and its obvious it’s just her body and nothing else and It’s not her, but it’s her body, and her lips are purple, and her eyes are open, and the ceiling fan spins, and the room spins, and she won’t wake up, and she won’t wake up, and she won’t wake up. And it was the pills. It was always going to the fucking pills.*

*Then I am sitting next to him in a pew and we are wearing suits we bought together from Mervyns or somewhere else. I can’t remember. Even sitting there I can’t’ remember and it seems like I can’t remember anything or how I got here and my arm is around him. Then her coffin is carried out and I leave him at our grandma’s because we are selling our house and I have a scholarship to University of Minnesota and school starts in 3 days and everyone is so proud of you. How strong you are for your brother. You’re going to do great at college and we are so so sorry about your mom and we wished she could have kicked the habit.*

Then I float above it. Or through it. Or around it. Or I’m standing there in the middle of it but the frame rate is too slow or all of a sudden too fast. And I feel nothing. I see people happy. I see people sad. And I understand why they are happy or why they are sad, but It feels so distant and hollow like it is a dream that I’ll wake from. She won’t wake up. Like it’s a dream that when it’s over then I’ll get to feel something again. And then I feel that searing pain in the back of my skull. In the back of my brain and I’m back in this apartment and she’s standing in front of me.

“You’re impossible,” her words are measured and deliberate but the tears are still streaking her cheeks, “so fucking impossible.”

And I stand there. Wishing I wasn’t there. Wishing I could disappear or tunnel under ground and lay under a rock. Cool and dark and quiet. Free and empty. I am so good at so many things. Why can’t I just not fuck these things up. This one fucking thing. This one basic thing. Why can’t I let anyone be fucking close to me and then she is holding me.

Our bodies are touching and I must have dropped the bottle because my arms are wrapped around her and her arms are wrapped around me and I feel her cheek wet and warm with her tears pressed into my neck and my chest. She’s whispering it to herself- “You’re fucking impossible. You’re so fucking impossible.” I hold her tight. I can feel this and I can believe in this and I bring her tight into me. And this is religion. I want to hold who she is. Who she was and who she will be.

I want to hold all of her at once. Every part of her body. Every memory. Every moment she will shape and every event that will shape her. I want to hold her tear streaked cheek against me. I want to hold the football games she said her dad took her to as little girl. Warm fall evenings. I want to hold her winning the state soccer championship. Strong and young and her skin so dark brown, I want to hold her and her future babies- warm and soft in her arms and taking life from her breast. I want to hold her as she grows old and gardens and waters her plants and eventually when she is old and I am old and our children our old I want to lay next to her. Cool and free and empty in the dark wet soil.

Our mouths meet and I can taste the sweet salt of her tears on her lips. I exhale and she exhales and I feel both hollow and full. Her tongue spreads my lips and I pull her even tighter into me and I press her open mouth hard against mine like I am breathing her in. Who she is. I pull my shirt off over my head and she pulls her off too if only so we can feel closer to each other. Her slight breasts are pressed against me and I can feel her chest moving against mine. Catching her breath. My hands run down her naked back and down her ass I pull her tighter into me. You’re so fucking impossible. Our mouths are still locked together. Her hands trace my back and my neck and down my sides and she is moving to her knees and then she is on her knees in front of me. Like some perverted version of a supplicant and a saint. Like the performance of some unholy penance. She reaches for my belt but this isn’t what I want and it isn’t what she wants and I reach down and grab her by the throat and I pull her up to me again.

She takes my hand and leads me into her bedroom. She pulls me on top of her. Our bodies entwine and I can’t feel where I end and she begins. Her legs and arms are wrapped around me and then we are naked. My hand slides down to her pussy and she pushes her hips up, pressing herself agains the tips of my fingers. Not a word is spoken. The AC clicks on and whirrs through the still silence of her room. I gently rub circles with three fingers across her pussy, licking my fingers and mingling my spit with the wetness of her cunt until she cums.

Then I move my mouth between her legs and she adjusts her hips and I do the same thing, but this time with my lips and my tongue and spit. I feel her body begin to tighten and now the silence of the room is broken by her shallow breathing. She lets out a small whimper and then abruptly sits up grabbing the back of my head and burying my face into her. Into her pussy as she holds me there, my tongue running long strokes against her clit until she whispers she is cumin and throws herself back into bed and struggles to pull her hips away from me. Away from my mouth. I pin her hips to the bed and she knots the sheets in her fist. She is inside herself now and I continue to work her clit between my tongue and lips and she explodes against before she shoves my head from between her legs.

She crawls onto her knees as I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling. Naked and hard and feeling strangely vulnerable. She moves towards me and pulls a condom over my cock. I reach down and run a finger across her wrist. “Is it true?” I ask. The words hang there between us as she moves on top of me. As she straddles my hips and I then slowly begins to bring me into her. “You can’t do this to me” she says and I begin to slowly slide into her as she lets her weight relax into me and she closes her eyes focused on me inside of her. “You can’t ask me that.” She begins to slowly rock her hips back and forth on my dick. “You asked me to be honest. I promised you I’d be honest.” I grab her hips and she begins to move more quickly. “You aren’t lying.” I ask as I feel her cunt grind into me and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. “Tommy. Stop.” and I stare at the ceiling and she collapses into me and still her pussy slides against me. Up and down me and her lips are pressed into my ear and I can feel her breath in what feels like my soul. “Tommy. I love you.” and I know she means it and know she’s a fucking adult and she won’t let me ruin her life and my hands move over her ass and she presses her lips tighter against my ear and says it again. “Tommy. I love you.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/96q8mr/mf_fucking_my_waitress_for_the_last_time

17 comments on “[MF] Fucking My Waitress- for the last time.

  1. This is deep man. Very well written and you really poured your heart out in this. It must have been very hard to write/post.

    Wish you all the best in the future.

  2. Fuck!

    I’m almost lost for words.

    I cannot comprehend what you’re going through but you elucidated it so well here.

    I really wish you well. I wish you both well.

    Man , there’s always a way forward.

  3. Read this in the hope of masturbating. Maybe not to this per say but soon after. Instead I weep. This moved me when I wasn’t expecting to me moved.

  4. Please… PLEASE…Write a FUCKING BOOK.

    I am very serious. There may not be a proper place to post it here but by God there’s an audience. If you ever fancied yourself a writer (you should) from someone who is going to school for it, I implore you to write down this stuff more.

    People will read it. People will like it. People will need it.

  5. I’m going through a motherfuck of a breakup right now. This hit me so hard, I was about to call her. I deleted her number but I know it by heart. The subtle line in your descriptions between destroying and hurting each other and loving each other brings back every aspect of our relationship… Damn dude. Hellova piece

  6. Ditto ‘write a book/get into writing’ comments. Feel free to dm me about anything. Really enjoyed the post. Bravo

  7. Wow fucking wow this is the distillation of modern human pain, much like whiskey it has aged in the barrel of your soul. And though un cut is ripe for human consumption, thank you sir, for sharing this is poetry reminiscent of bukowski, imho.

    Yes its white dog whiskey but thats what it should be stripped directly from the still and burned into our souls. Go fourth write for yourself, make no excuses and take no crap. For I like this draw in its roughness, another shot please, straight.

    Thank you,

  8. This was so poignant and bittersweet. Thank you so much for sharing Humbang. I know for this sub, it is difficult for some of the most richly textured stories to be seen but I loved your vulnerability and the fact you were able to share it with us.

    Please continue writing stories and sharing perspectives with us.

  9. As I read your post I felt your struggle, your loneliness, and your hope that it will end different. That you will be different. I hope you will let go of that weight someday and be finally free.

  10. Amazingly written. And I wish you the best. May the demons you fight disappear and a sense of calm and happiness consume you

  11. Wow. I need a drink. I know it’s an inappropriate reaction for me right now but I just want to feel less. Or more. I’m honestly not sure which. You really moved me.

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