Henry sighed heavily and let the fake smile he had been maintaining for the last twenty minutes slip as he walked away from the conversation to get another drink for him and his girlfriend. This was going to be a long night.
The last person that Henry expected they would meet at the gallery opening was Rick. That wasn’t quite true, he corrected himself as he crossed the crowded room, avoiding the dense knots of people spread through the room. The last person he hoped that he and Becky would run into at the gallery opening – or ever – was her ex, Rick, but Henry had to admit that this event was really more Rick’s speed than it was his.
In a city the size of Philadelphia the odds of meeting any particular person were low enough, but as Henry struggled through the dense crowd around the bar, he figured that a place like this was one of the more likely venues to meet men that were Becky’s usual type: pretentious and unable to hold a real job. That description actually suited this building pretty well too: a warehouse stranded too near downtown as the tide of industry receded leaving it to get a cheap facelift a serve as a venue for aspiring social climbers to gather, rather than a place for the holding and shipping of goods it was originally intended to be. Tonight, it was a gala art exhibition on both floors, though most people were on the ground floor. Not because the art was any better – but because it was closer to the booze, he reasoned.
While Henry waited on one of the bartenders to get to him, he leaned against the bar. He tried to focus on other things like the art all around him, he was in an art gallery after all, but his thoughts and his gaze eventually returned to Becky and her Ex. Even at this distance, every time she laughed at something he couldn’t hear, and every time Rick found an excuse to touch her arm or chest in an innocent way, he could feel the knife twisting deeper. He wanted to say that the night couldn’t get any worse, but if it was ‘take a shit on Henry day’ then maybe there were other ex’s in the crowd somewhere he just hadn’t run into yet.
Henry forced himself to tear his eyes off the pair and scanned the crowd looking for any familiar faces. Maybe Steve or Adam had showed up too to liven things up, although at least they had both moved on and were dating other people last, he had heard. Maybe before Henry had decided to come tonight, they’d all had a gang bang planned for the after party. For just a moment his mind’s eye filled with flashing images of the four of them: Becky on her knees with her mouth around Rick’s cock while she jerked off the other two on her face. Becky’s pale skin glazed in a thin sheen of other men’s cum. Becky in a tangle of bodies on their bed, her small freckle dusted body coated in sheen of sweat while she was getting all three holes filled.
Henry shook his head. This kind of thinking was counterproductive. Becky had said so, and so had their couple’s counselor. It wasn’t that Becky needed to make new friends he reminded himself – it was that he needed to work on his issues with jealousy and insecurity. Henry felt his anger start to subside as he continued to stare blankly at the crowd; from the looks of things there would be no more surprises tonight at least.
“Hey man,” a gruff voice said, breaking him from his tortured reverie. “What’cha you havin?”
Henry look up and saw the bartender, making a pair of drinks while looking at him expectantly.
“Give me a light beer and a bourbon neat. Actually…” Henry said thinking better of it, “make it a double.”
“Coming up Pal,” he said quickly, and then he was gone again, leaving Henry alone at the shabby bar in a crush of strangers.
Henry cracked open his near empty wallet and pulled out a twenty, and then spaced out, looking into the mirror with patient boredom, waiting for his drinks to come back. In that blank stare, a single face jumped out to him: a raven-haired beauty with intense eyes. Eyes that seemed to be staring right at him, though that of course was impossible. Henry was certain that when he had swept the room earlier for other familiar faces, he felt sure he would have remembered her, even though he’d never seen her before in his life. Her face wasn’t the sort you’d forget.
She was more than pretty, she was striking.
What was even weirder though was not only had he not noticed her, but no one else seemed to have seen her either, otherwise, why would she be standing there all alone. The only explanation that made any sense at all was that she had just arrived at the party. Otherwise Henry was sure she would have already attracted a crowd of suitors.
From here he could tell that she was a younger little thing in a dark blouse and tight black skirt. She was certainly at least as pretty as his girlfriend, with a similar lithe shape and modest curves. Definitely his type, he thought…
“Here you go man – 18 bucks,” one of the bartenders said, reappearing in front of him and setting the drinks down on the bar and interrupting his thought.
Henry held out the twenty mechanically, taking his eyes off the woman for only the barest instant to grab the drinks. There was something special about her, something ethereal that she might vanish as quickly as she arrived, but when Henry turned around, she was still there, slowly checking out the room.
Henry noted that she was still alone. ‘Here’s my chance,’ he thought to himself, at least half joking. It’s now or never. He started walking back to his girlfriend and their unwelcome guest when the stranger suddenly looked right at him again, fixing his gaze with hers, like she had heard him somehow. In that shared moment his step faltered, and the world reoriented. Why not go say hello? What would be the harm in it? If Becky preferred the company of another man, then two could play at this game.
Henry downed his double in a single gulp, set his glass down on a nearby table, and then made his way across the room sipping on his girlfriend’s beer as a chaser. Becky could do her thing, and he could find out this stranger’s story. Jealousy seemed like the perfect tactic to ensure he got some action when they went home tonight, Henry reasoned as he strode confidently across the room. That was the only reason he even let Becky drag him to this thing in the first place – to get her in the mood.
As he walked toward directly toward her from across the room, she slowly smiled, realizing he was indeed coming to talk to her. That level of foreshadowing was nerve-wracking in one way, but in another it made it far too late to chicken out almost immediately. Unfortunately, Henry noted too late, that he was too busy pretending to be confident to remember to be clever.
“Henry,” he said, sticking out his hand. Not the smoothest pickup line he’d ever had, but bold sometimes worked where clever failed, and if her push up bra and tight jeans revealed anything at all about her character, this woman seemed to like bold. “What brings you to the gallery tonight?”
“Excuse me,” she answered hesitantly, “do I know you?” The abruptness of her tone was accentuated by the hint of vaguely eastern European accent. In other circumstances it could be very attractive, but when used with that tone of voice it only made it more cutting.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” Henry said truthfully, suddenly flailing as she pulled the rug out from under his swagger. “It’s just that I saw you checking me out from across the room, I thought I’d introduce myself,” he added lamely.
“No, no, no.” She said, suddenly softening her tone, “I get that. Hi. It’s nice to meet you and all that,” she said offering him her hand, “but how did you know my name?”
“Have we met somewhere or…” she let the line hang trying to tease the answer out of Henry, but he was lost. Her name? Perhaps she had misheard him.
“Your name?” he asked dumbly, his confusion matched her’s.
“Henry,” she prompted.
“Your name is Henry?” Henry responded questioningly. Was she fucking with him? “No, my name is Henry,” he tried again making sure to speak clearly. He’d had a few drinks, but not enough to drink to start slurring anything.
“Ooohhh,” the mystery woman said, something apparently clicking into place. “Your name is Henry?”
“Yes,” Henry answered suspiciously. She was definitely fucking with him.
“Mine is also Henry,” she said, smiling, “Pleased to meet you. Wow – what are the odds, right?”
“Your name is Henry?” he responded incredulously. “Really? Henry?”
“Not really a girl’s name, I mean woman’s name is it?” he corrected himself hastily.
She smirked. “I can let that pass, on account of our name-bond, but you really shouldn’t call me normal. Do it again and we are through, you understand? Through. It will hurt my feelings.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Henry said, starting to smile again
“You can call me Etta though, if you like, on account of our close and special bond,” Etta said, returning his smile wryly.
Henry only had to think for a moment to figure it out, an obvious sign if ever there was one that he had not had enough to drink. “Etta? As in Henry-Etta? Cute, very cute.”
“Very good, detective” she raised her glass to him approvingly. “Most people just ask me what it’s short for.”
“So, what brings you here tonight? The corporate sellout street art for sale,” she said gesturing expansively to most of the lower floor, “Or the uninspired modern art retread?” This time she pointed up, to where the other exhibit was being held by a couple artists on the second floor.
Truthfully, Henry had no idea what art was going to be displayed when he showed up this evening, but that didn’t sound very sophisticated. “I’m just here for the chicks.” He said, trying bluntness on for size. From her reaction he could tell it was the right move.
“Is that so,” Etta said flirtatiously, “You’re just out playing the field and you thought you would start with me? How’s that working out for you?”
“You mean you can’t tell?” Henry retorted before realizing what he said.
“Actually,” He said, interrupting her just as she opened her mouth to respond to his challenge, “By chicks I mean one in particular. That one right there, the redhead.” He pointed and noted that she was still with Rick but looking from across the room. He had her attention at least. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend, huh?” Etta’s expression had darkened a shade, but her tone was curiosity, not anger. “Well then, if she’s over there, then what are you doing over here?”
“Well,” Henry started, not exactly sure how to make his motivations sound less than ridiculous. “You see that guy next to her is her ex and I was getting sick of making nice, so I…”
“So you thought you’d come over here and make her jealous,” Etta translated what he was thinking in real time.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Henry agreed. “But then I meet a girl named Henry, and I gotta say that I’m more than a little intrigued.”
Etta looked at him for a moment, studying him. “Well, if you want to make her jealous, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Is that so,” Henry asked, “Who made you the expert on jealousy?”
“Jealousy is just a specific form of Envy – it’s the second most important sin in my life – you might say it comes naturally,” she replied, wryly. “It’s not enough to be absent, even conspicuously. She has to see you in the company of a rival, a beautiful woman who…”
“Well,” Henry interrupted, “You are conspicuously beautiful, so we got that covered. What’s your first most important sin?
“Who can be seen as a threat,” Etta said, fighting to keep a smile from forming on her lips.
“Alright,” Henry countered, looking at her expectantly. “But you didn’t answer my most important question.”
Etta smiled smugly. She wasn’t about to make things so easy for Henry, so he surprised her, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the stairs. She went along without missing a beat, and though Henry tried to act nonchalant, he was quite distracted by how warm and smooth her skin was.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Henry released her hand reluctantly and leaned with both hands on the railing, looking anywhere but at Becky.
“So what are we doing up here Henry,” Etta asked expectantly.
“That depends,” Henry responded, “are they looking?”
Etta searched the crowd for a long moment or the unfamiliar redhead. “She is, but she’s trying to be subtle about it” She responded finally, “he only has eyes for her, though.”
“Then that’s what we’re doing up here,” he said, taking her hand again and walking over to pretend to view the nearest painting, “Being seen.”
Etta looked back at him, a wicked sparkle in her eye as they walked away from the balcony, “Among other things, definitely. It sounds like we’re also talking about sin – if you believe in that sort of thing. Do you Henry? Do you believe in sin?”
Up here there were far fewer people, though whether that was due to the quality of the art or the distance to the bar he could not say; it all looked the same to him. As he stood in silence half a step behind her, it gave Henry a chance to check Etta in detail, which was more interesting than any of the art in this place. He let his eyes wander down her back to her tight shapely ass.
“Sinning in general, or with you specifically?” he asked, laughing, “Because one of them sounds like a lot of fun. At least if your favorite sin in Lust and not sloth or wrath. It certainly doesn’t look like gluttony…” He trailed off.
Etta smiled suddenly in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, and lust seems like more my speed?”
She smoothed out her blouse in an exaggerated way, breathing in deeply at the same time in a way that made her breasts thrust out and swell in a way that made them threaten to spill out of her top. From a distance no one probably noticed, but up close… just for a moment Henry had a very good idea of what she would look like underneath those thin layers of cloth. It made his mouth dry and his dick swell.
“Tell me Henry, what about my body tells you I enjoy a little lust more than the average girl? More than Becky?” Etta said, taking half a step toward him. So close her breasts were practically touching his chest, forcing him to look at her cleavage when he looked down to meet her gaze.
Henry swallowed hard as he watched her little show. He’d noted her lovely face, womanly curves, and long dark hair from across the room. When he couldn’t see from that distance was just how sexual she was. Every word and gesture carried a second and third meaning, and one of those meanings was always an invitation.
“I umm..” he stammered, “I was just saying you didn’t look like you needed to lose any weight.”
One thing was certain though: Henry needed to change the topic to something less provocative before his hardon became any more obvious.
“But enough about your body,” Henry asked, “Why are you here alone? Surely you’ve got a boy toy or two.”
“Nah,” Etta answered without real interest in the question. “I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em sort of gal.”
“Is that so,” Henry asked, skeptically. “Why not find a nice guy and settle down?”
“I doubt very much that there is a single guy that can handle me,” Etta said, turning slightly to look past him, giving him a moment to ogle every inch of her without having to try to keep his gaze above the neck, “but you’d have to get me out of this dress to understand what I really mean by that sweetie.”
Henry almost choked on the last sip of beer. He must not have heard that right.
“I’m not going to try to get your clothes off…” Henry started
“Oh, there is no try,” Etta interjected, “I’d say your odds of succeeding would be pretty good, I mean name recognition alone…”
“I’m not going to get your clothes of,” Henry corrected himself, “because I have a girlfriend…”
“She’s your deal breaker not mine,” Etta shot back, looked up, meeting his gaze with a smile that straddled the border between mischievous and erotic.
“…and” Henry kept going, not allowing himself to be derailed. “I’m not just going to leave the gallery and ditch Becky and go fuck a woman I just met, no matter how lovely and charming.”
“So what you’re saying is that you would fuck around on your girlfriend, excuse me – on Becky, as long as we don’t have to leave the building?” Etta smiled wickedly, “Because that’s what I heard.”
“That’s not what I said,” although Henry thought to himself that he kind of did say exactly that, “You’re just putting words into my mouth here.”
“Who’s putting what into who’s mouth now?” Etta raised her hand to her mouth, feigning scandal. “Naughty, naughty Henry. I can see we have more in common than just our names here.” As she spoke she leaned slightly forward, allowing her body to brush his briefly, before stepping past him. He tried to ignore the sensation, but the heat that even that short contact provided made him tingle in anticipation. ha
Henry opened his mouth, and then thinking better of it, closed it again. All of his witty rejoinders only traveled further down the road she was leading him down. A road that lead to infidelity, and as attractive as Etta was, he truly loved Becky.
“Maybe we should go,” Henry started, reluctantly, looking down at his empty beer bottle. He was enjoying his battle of wits with Etta. He was enjoying it too much really, and that was the problem.
“Go, you mean back to your girl and her ex?” Etta said as they both walked to the railing and looked down on the crowd below. “Take a long look at them. She was glaring daggers up here pretty much until you turned around. Giving her some space was definitely the right move.”
“If you really want to go back and be her chaperone, we should at least walk out of sight up here first – you know, check out the rest of the paintings – really give her something to worry about.”
“I’m not her Chaperone,” Henry retorted. Etta was right about some of what she said though. From up here you could pick out the friends from the couples almost by how far apart they were standing as they clustered around the art and in loose groups talking in the open spaces. Becky and Rick were definitely not standing a friendly distance apart.
“Great,” Etta said with mock excitement, breaking his reflection, “then you can spend a five more minutes looking at these masterpieces. I can be your escort, and after that you can go back and join Becky if that’s what you want.”
Henry let that statement hang there unanswered.
Anything he said would make him sound defensive, and defensive wasn’t sexy. For the first couple paintings, they walked slowly in silence. Henry wasn’t sure what was going thought Etta’s mind, but he couldn’t get her implied offer out of his.
Finally, she was the one to break the silence. “You seem to be a nice guy, Henry, so I hate to tell you this, but when you take her home tonight and you fuck her, because she’s going to need someone to fuck her…” she paused trying to think of a better way to say whatever she had to say next. “She’s going to be wet because of all the attention she got from the one that got away tonight. She’s still into him, anyone can see that, and I can see it across the room.”
“I mean, if you love her…”
“She dumped him,” Henry said defensively, “She’s done with that chapter of her life.”
“Yeah,” Etta said skeptically, “Isn’t that what she would say even if she was dumped though?”
She had a point, not that Henry was willing to cede it.
“So what do you get out of this?”
“Some dick if I’m lucky,” she said a bit too loud, causing him to look around instinctively to see if they’d been overheard, “but you said I’m not getting lucky, so nothing I guess. Just friendly advice.”
“What can I say Henry,” Etta said mockingly, “you sure know how to show a lady a good time.”
Henry only grunted in response. He didn’t trust himself enough at the moment to be able to answer in a way that wouldn’t be turned around against him immediately. The art, much of it on giant floor to ceiling canvases weren’t his speed. That was a lot off canvas for so little paint. It wouldn’t solve his current dilemma. Sure – he might stay loyal to Becky tonight, but would she stay loyal to him tomorrow?
“Fork in the road Henry, what’s it going to be?” Etta said, bringing them to a stop.
Henry looked around but wasn’t quite sure what she was getting at. They were nearly alone in a quiet corner of the upstairs gallery. The only difference was that this corner happened to have a door in it.
“To our left, if we continue as we were, we will find your girlfriend awaiting your return. If we turn around and go back the way we came we will find, drum roll please,” Etta paused a moment for effect, “the same thing. But if we go through door number two,” she said gesturing like the hostess on a game show, “well who knows what could happen.”
“It’s probably locked,” Henry said blandly, refusing to humor her. “And if it’s unlocked it probably a fire escape or something.”
Henry moved to continue his route downstairs, but Etta grabbed his arm and tried to pull him toward the door. “Come on baby, you never fucked on a fire escape before?”
When she released his hand, she shrugged and walked over to the door without him. “It’s unlocked, she said,” testing the handle.
Henry stood where he was, wondering what she was going to do next. He didn’t have to wait long. She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then opened the door and walked inside. That quick peek didn’t have enough light to offer Henry any clue as to what it might contain.
Henry almost walked away, he thought about it, but there was just something about her he couldn’t let go of. Maybe if he humored her he could at least get her number, in case Becky really did leave him he reasoned. Henry walked to the door and opened it. He had intended to go in slow, and look for a light switch, but Etta had other plans.
She grabbed him by the collar as soon as the door opened, and before he could say anything to her, she crushed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. He was too stunned to stop it or return it, but neither her ardor nor her tongue could be denied, and a moment later he was returning it passionately. Her hands roamed his body until finally he pushed her back against the wall, breaking this kiss.
“Etta, where are we?” Henry said softly, trying to process everything that had just happened.
“Awww, Henry, you say the sweetest things,” she mocked, “some kind off closet I think – cleaning supplies and that sort of thing.”
“Now get over here and finish what you started.”
“I started,” Henry said askance, “Who started it?”
“What does it matter,” she said, pulling him to her as he pinned her to the shelf. This time he didn’t resist her passion, and returned in kind, pulling her hips to his and grinding against her suggestively. His hands roamed the whole of her body in those moments giving him a good idea of all the details he needed without being able to see them, from the bra that struggled to contain her supple breasts to the powerful thighs hidden by her skirt.
Indeed, the darkness seemed to magnify her body in the same way that her outfit hid it. Earlier he would have said that calling her a C cup was generous, but now her constrained titflesh almost overflowed from his hands – likewise her waist felt as he expected, but her hips flared a lot more than he would have thought and her ass… well, that he couldn’t do more than grope it was tragic.
The real tragedy of all this, besides the fact that he wasn’t single and couldn’t fuck her, Henry reflected, was that her body was made for fucking and one really needed to see in action to fully appreciate in the same way that one couldn’t take the full measure of thoroughbred in a stable stall.
“What if we get caught,” Henry asked finally, breaking the kiss.
“Then we tell them its performance art,” Etta responded, not missing a beat, “But I have to tell you Henry,” she continued after taking a moment to nibble on his ear. “I’m going to need your consent before we take this any further.”
“Who says I want to take this any further?” Henry countered, “Maybe I just want to kiss you for a minute or two and then go downstairs with a little lipstick on my collar.”
“You can live in denial all you want,” Etta said, grabbing Henry’s crotch, “but this guy is telling me the truth, and I think he wants to do more than get kissed, doesn’t he?”
“Well,” Henry said, stalling for time, “there’s a big difference between him getting kissed and me getting kissed if you think about it.”
There was no arguing with her larger point though. The only part of him that denied he wanted to fuck this willing little mystery woman was his mind, and right now he was having a lot of trouble thinking straight about anything. Henry tried to respond to Etta’s question with a kiss, trying to delay the inevitable for another minute or two. After all, kissing a stranger in a broom closet was certainly cheating, but not nearly as bad as admitting you wanted to fuck them in that broom closet, right?
She dodged his mouth though, and he settled for her neck instead. “I’m serious Henry – enthusiastic consent” she said with a shudder that betrayed the effect his kisses were having, “I’m going to need you to tell me that I have your permission to fuck you before we can take this any further.”
While her mouth stalled, her hands continued to explore his torso under his shirt, and her breathing became louder and more ragged with every minute that passed.
“You can’t hear what my body is telling you, Etta, I have to spell it out?” he asked, the smile she couldn’t see in the dark plain in his voice as he tried to regain the upper hand. “I’m disappointed.”
Henry tried to punctuate his big talk with a kiss, but she demurred, letting her hands wander lower, caressing his cock through his slacks.
“Consent is sexy, Henry.” Etta said again, and the way she pronounced it, it really was, “It’s how people do things these days.”
“Maybe – but not in Philadelphia – here we take what we want,” he interjected quickly.
Etta swatted at his hand playfully as he tried to slide a hand into her panties.
“What if I’d rather fuck you than you fuck me?” Henry asked, flipping her question back on his new lover. “If anything you should be giving me your consent.” Henry tried a different plan of attack and took great handfuls of her ass instead, mauling it. It was clear that Etta was gifted with more than her fair share of booty, and he intended to enjoy it during their time together, however brief.
“We could do that if you want Henry – you could be in charge, but if that’s what you want you might as well just go down to your girlfriend.” Etta paused for effect, letting her goading sink in. “I thought you came upstairs with me because you wanted to try something wild with a girl that actually knows what she wants.” The word different in this case was punctuated with a strong squeeze of his cloth covered cock.
After a moment or two of deliberation on an appropriately witty response, Henry relented. If he didn’t get his rocks off soon, then he was going to have a serious case of blue balls when he went downstairs. “Alright, alright, you win. Etta I need to fuck you. Please fuck my brains out,” adding after a moment of delay, “I’m not calling out Henry when I cum though– that would just be weird.”
“Fair enough,” Etta said as she undid his belt buckle and let Henry’s pants fall to the floor. She reached into his underwear without fanfare and pulled his cock out; at five and a half inches, it was technically average, but he was sensitive about it given how much experience some of the women he dated had.
“Well baby, what’s it going to be, did you want to fuck my pretty little pussy or my tight ass,” Etta said seductively as she finally let him pull her panties down past her knees. The smell of her need was immediate and unmistakable.
“Oh, so this is on the menu too, is it,” Henry said, “I’d been planning to have your pussy cum all over my dick.” He said finally getting into the spirit of things, “but it’s like you said, I can have pussy any time, I came up here for something… different.” He flipped her around and pushed her back against the shelving. “whatever it is though, we have to hurry. Another ten minutes up here and she’ll send out search parties.”
“Ten minutes huh? In this ass?” Henry could hear the smirk as she spoke. “Isn’t that optimistic.”
“Just let me get this condom on,” Henry said, ripping open the packet, “and we can see who has the last laugh.”
“Ha,” she said laughing slightly, “you think I’m worried about a condom. That’s funny.” Etta turned around and started grinding her ass against him.
Henry didn’t have to be told twice; Becky never let him stick it in her butt. He started to roll the condom down his dick while his mystery woman peeled down her tight jeans. In the near pitch black confines of the closet he couldn’t really see how magnificent her ass was, but as he pulled her panties down and sought out her asshole, he would sworn he was fucking a Puerto Rican, or particularly thick black girl and not the young svelte European beauty he’d brought upstairs.
“Stop moving so fast and take your time with it,” Etta said over her shoulder in a tone dripping with irony. “We’ve got all night afterall.” It was playful, she sighed and cooed appreciatively as he groped and kneaded her ample ass.
“Most women like for guys to take it slow,” Henry said as he started to push the head of his dick against her sphincter. “Especially when taking it up the ass.”
“And most guys wouldn’t be having so much trouble pushing it inside,” she said wiggling her ass tauntingly as Henry applied increasing pressure to his thrust without apparent effect. “If you tell me I’m like most women again Henry I’m afraid I’m going to have to put my panties back on and go find someone else to show me a good time.”
It just wasn’t going in. Henry spit in his hand and rubbed it on the tip of his condom covered dick and tried again, using his fist to stabilize his straining dick, but it was just no good, Etta had an iron sphincter – he just couldn’t push past it. Maybe this was a sign that he should stop, he thought, a whisper of guilt creeping in.
“I know” Etta chimed in, just as Henry was about to give up and have her suck him off. “How about that blonde guy, the one your girlfriend was talking to – he seemed like he could really throw his dick around. Do you think I could get him to come upstairs and have anonymous sex with a stranger?”
“So that’s how its going to be, you cunt,” Henry said, leaning into her long Jasmine scented hair. “Two can play at that game.”
“I certainly hope so, came the throaty response,” Henry’s anger and resentment boiled to the surface and fueled as his cock as it stated to sink slowly into Etta’s rosebud. “Mmm, that’s the spirit. Maybe you really do want to fuck me, afterall.”
Henry gasped as his dick finally slipped inside his lover’s tight little asshole. Once he was through the sphincter, the rest slipped in effortlessly. Though he had been prepared for the tightness, he hadn’t been expecting the heat. Inside her, even through the condom it was more than warm – it was hot, bordering on painful. He hadn’t done anal in years, and didn’t remember it feeling so good, but he vowed to start fucking Becky’s ass more as he started to pump in and out of the sexual inferno wrapped around his dick.
Henry tore his hands from Etta’s ample breasts and their prominent nipples reluctantly, putting his right hand on her hip for better leverage and pulling a handful of her hair hard enough with his left to bring her bring her ear to his mouth.
“If you’re the slut that’s supposed to be fucking me,” Henry growled, “Then why am I doing all the work here?”
Etta moaned loud enough that a brief flash of fear passed through Henry as he worried someone might decide to see where all the noise was coming from. “I was just waiting for you to get it up, I mean – in.” She pushed back against him, bending forward at the waist to get leverage against the wall as Henry relaxed his grip on her hair. “But now that you’ve taken care of that,” she grunted, “I got it from here.”
That simple statement did not do any justice to the sexual earthquake that Etta unleashed. His desire to hate fuck her until she came on his dick in response to her teasing were forgotten, along with almost everything else in the world besides how good she felt. He was no longer the driver on this sexual journey, he was now just a passenger along for the ride.
Positioned against the wall for leverage she started to jackhammer her ass against Henry with abandon, forcing him to grab her hips and change his stance to keep from being bowled over by the expanse of her rippling ass-flesh. When he had first slipped his dick inside her, he knew he wouldn’t last long in that sweet erotic heat, but at this pace he would be lucky to last more than another ten strokes.
“Mmmm,” she mewled, slamming into his dick so hard he could feel her ass rippling outwards with every fuck like a shockwave. “Don’t you like it when I fuck you Henry? Isn’t this so much better than fucking me?”
Henry fought to maintain his slipping composure.
“If you keep that up,” he said, a shudder running through his voice as he tried to warn her, “I’m going to cum soon.” He warned her through gritted teeth, but she ignored him, continue to fuck her ass against him without even slowing. Henry felt his the cum starting to boil in his balls and his sack tighten inexorably. No matter how much he tried to hold it back though, each stroke brought it closer to washing over him. After a less than a minute of fucking the most perfect ass he was ever likely to touch, he pulled her hips tightly against him, burying his dick as deep as it could go before launching jet after jet of hot cum inside her. It was the single best orgasm of his entire life, and for a moment the pleasure of it even overrode the shame of having cum so quickly.
Unfortunately, even after the pleasure started to wane, the shame remained behind, joining with a small but rising tide of regret for having cheated on Becky, now that it was done.
“So that’s it is it quick draw? That’s all you got?” Etta said, the disappointment obvious in her voice. “I thought you invited me up here to fuck, not be your cuddle buddy and cum dump”
“Listen, this isn’t usually how it goes, normally my stamina is..” Henry trailed off knowing how cliché and pathetic all that sounded. “You just felt so good. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Uh-huh.” Etta answered skeptically as she pulled herself wetly off his shrinking dick. “and how are you going to make this up to me. You owe me 9 more minutes and an orgasm. There’s no point in fucking in a broom closet unless we both cum you asshole.”
Henry’s heart soared, despite the name calling, she was already planning a next time – so he could make it up to her. Not tonight of course, not without some Viagra, and they needed to get downstairs anyway, but sometime soon…
“Well,” Henry started, reaching down to pull up his pants, “if you want to give me your number I’m sure we could get together soon. Next weekend maybe. What’s your schedule look like?”
“Next weekend. That’s cute Henry.” She kissed him then, forcing her tongue in his mouth for a long moment before coming up for air. “My schedule looks like I have an opening right now.” She drew his hand down to feel her pussy, which was so slick it was practically dripping. “If you think next weekend looks better than this,” she said, grinding her mound into his hand, then you might have to reconsider your priorities here.”
And for a long moment that is exactly what he did. Here he was kissing a beautiful woman and feeling her smooth hairless cunt that radiated need for him, that bucked against him when the slightest attention was paid to her distended clit and he was talking about going back downstairs to a woman that would rather ignore him to talk to one of his least favorite people in the world.
“I just..” he tried to form a coherent argument, “We’ve been up here for a while now and I’ll be missed if I’m not back soon.” Henry slowly sunk two fingers inside of Etta’s sex while he spoke, feeling the frictionless wetness as he probed deeper. Etta’s pussy radiated that same strange heat her ass did, but when he bottomed out deep inside her he withdrew his fingers suddenly and brought them to his mouth reflexively. For a moment he felt like her pussy had burned him, which was of course impossible.
But in the moment he tasted her, the world shifted. The effect was practically narcotic. His pulse started to pound in his ears, his pupils started to dilate, and his cock began to twitch to life even though Henry had just cum hard enough to put him out of action for a day or two at least.
“I mean, if we had more room, we could stretch out and really enjoy it,” he said, trying to justify his sudden desire to fuck her again. Was he really in so much of a hurry to return to Becky that he couldn’t at least suck on her cunt for a while to make sure she came too? It was only fair right? What were another couple minutes? Henry’s desire to go back downstairs at all was fading remarkably fast; at this moment he was fine with never seeing Becky again so long as he got to keep fucking Etta.
“Room to stretch out huh? That’s what it will take?” Etta said lustfully. “Okay, if you insist.” Etta turned and without bothering to put her clothes on turned, opened the door and stepped out of the closet they had wedged themselves into, and walked out the way they had come, naked from the waist down. Reflexively, Henry pulled his pants up to cover his cock, now at half mast from the people that must be out there.
As he looked, he saw something entirely unexpected: the white walls and concrete floors of the gallery along with the large floor to ceiling post modernist monstrosities that were across from the door he had expected to see were in were gone, replaced by old hardwood and brick in what looked to be a fire damaged living room, or some kind of strange modern art piece.
Was it possible, Henry thought, that this closet had had two exit and he had gotten turned around? Was this was another gallery he hadn’t seen before? It looked mostly like a normal living room, but in the far corner the walls and floor were charred black, and a bonfire raged surrounded by a number of statues or mannequins streaked in soot.
That had to be it, Henry reasoned, the only place this sort of scene would make sense was in a modern art gallery. Surely with the family frozen around a bonfire that was destroying their home this was some kind of metaphor for Television’s destructive effects on modern society or something. Or maybe he was rationalizing a schizophrenic break. Maybe he had an embolism after a blood vessel burst while he was cumming in a stranger’s ass and this was what brain death looked like.
At this point Henry would have been hard pressed to tell you which way was up or what was going on “Am I dreaming?” managed at last, as he stepped out of the closet, unable to put any of his more complex thoughts into words.
Etta responded by stripping her blouse and tossing it aside. “I’ve been called a dream girl loads of times Henry, surely you can do better than that,” she said over one shoulder slowly traipsing away from him. She was down to just her bra now.
“Where are we,” Henry tried again, looking out the large windows. He could see that they were somewhere high up as he looked out over the tops of tall buildings – well above the second floor they should have been on, but the city skyline didn’t look familiar.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/k53288/before_the_night_ends_part_1_mf_mmf_noncon_dubcon