I Fucked My Girl Friend In Front Of My X Lover
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(Copyright held by the author, March 1998)
It was the night of The Storm. It hit in March of '93, and the National Weather Service - with their zany, madcap sense of humor - dubbed it the "White Hurricane." I'd been on Aer Lingus out of Shannon, headed for JFK and counting the hours till I was back on terra firma. I was not thrilled to hear that all three New York airports were socked in, and we were diverting to Boston. The good part was that I could take trusty Amtrak back to town. A longer journey, to be sure - but frankly, I wished there was some way to get across the Atlantic by rail; I do not like flying.
By the time we got into Logan, I was in the Twilight Zone that results from a long transAtlantic flight filled with Savory Airline Food and the complimentary beverages (three Jack Daniels) served in business class, topped by a couple of cups of Delicious Airline Coffee. I took the T directly to Back Bay station and flashed that Little Green Homerun Hitter for a first class on the next train to Penn Station. With my carry-on in one hand and my attaché case in the other, I barely made it. The snow was starting to swirl gently as we pulled out of the station; by the time we passed through Providence, it was a pelting blizzard, and when we reached Croton, we were rocketing along at all of five miles an hour. The only way I knew it was Croton was from the announcement; the station signs were not visible - across the nine-foot-wide platform.
An excruciating start-and-stop hour later - and three hours behind the Amtrak schedule - I was muttering and groaning and making my way through the elysian environs of Pennsylvania Station. The PA kept informing us that there would be no more trains in or out of that terminal for the night. The cops were not clearing folks out of the waiting areas as they normally did; most of these people were simply stranded; not the usual homeless "riffraff" who didn't have the right to shelter.
The escalator to street level deposited me in the midst of a chaotic Seventh Avenue scene. Even the blizzard - excuse me: "White Hurricane" - had not swept Seventh and 32nd clear of the eternal crush of cabs jockeying for travel-weary customers... or the hustlers who were all too willing to help secure a cab for the uninitiated.
That was where I saw her. Everyone was wearing goose-down parkas, everyone was carrying bags - in her case, one uselessly wheeled bag, a backpack and a briefcase - and everyone was looking frazzled. But she stood out because of her hair. It was so blonde it was nearly white. And she wore it in two braids that reached halfway down her back.
As I watched, two homeboys danced up to her and, with unnaturally wide smiles, gestured to her bags and the cab-less street. I saw her head shake. One of them reached for her bag. She tried to pull it back. A tug of war began, and the other hustler began keeping lookout.
I straightened and stepped forward, eyes fixed on the lookout. He saw me coming, said something to his partner, and they split, vanishing into the mob. I reached her side and said, "Excuse me - are you alright?"
She turned her face toward me, and I was drowning in the biggest, bluest eyes I had ever seen. "Are you a policeman?" Heavily accented. Great lips, too. Her mouth was small, and her lips were full, the lower one protruding just the tiniest bit. Her face was a bit on the round side. I guessed she was 18 or 19 - my favorite niece's age.
"No, just another weary traveler. Can I help you? Do you want me to get you a cop?"
That won a wan smile. "No, thank you - just a hotel room."
I pointed across the street. She shook her head. "Everything is full. I came from Philadelphia to take my flight back to Geneva but - " She shrugged and smiled: What can you do?
"And you're just going to stand here on Seventh Avenue all night?"
She had a lovely laugh. "No - just until I can figure out what to do."
"The police are letting stranded folks stay in the waiting rooms inside."
Her eyelids flickered, and she blushed and finally whispered, "I - I am not used to crowds. They frighten me."
"You're in a crowd here. Inside you'd at least be warm."
"I was in there for a little while, but all those strangers in that small space... I felt like I was suffocating."
"You'll freeze out here."
"I do not mind the cold," she said. "I'm quite accustomed to it." She paused, looking uncertain. "I don't suppose you could put me up till morning... Of course not," she gushed, blushing. "How terrible of me to even suggest - " Her pale-complected cheeks showed bright color. She was either a damned good actress or the genuine article.
"How brave of you. This is New York. I am a New Yorker. Like all men in New York, I am a crazed ax-murderer and rapist. Besides, I live alone."
She searched my face for some sign that I was kidding.
"You can stay with me," I added, deadpan.
"As long as it does not interfere with your Mob dealings," she said somberly.
"Or my white slavery ring."
"But what about the drug orgies?"
"Well..."
"I'll sleep in the closet so I don't interfere," she promised.
"But my gay lover already has the closet."
"Oh, well, then - in the shower."
"Ahhh - good. It's settled."
"My name is Heidi."
"Somehow, I'd already guessed that. Shall we go?"
She shook her head and smiled, hefting her bags and turning the cart-cum-sled. I introduced myself and offered to take one of her bags.
"Thank you, no. I can... handle them. Is it far?"
"Yes and no. We can walk there from here, but it'll be slow going in the snow."
"Lead on, rescuer."
We set off across Seventh Avenue in the blowing, thickening snow of the blizzard (sorry - "White Hurricane"). Along the way we talked. She was a student. She'd been in the Philadelphia and State College areas checking campuses. She was going to major in biophysics. She was Swiss. She had two brothers, one older and one younger. Her father was a banker. (Big surprise.) Her mother had been an Olympic skier.
She was going to be 19 in a month.
In ordinary weather, it was a 15-minute walk from Penn Station to my apartment; that night, it took us almost three times as long to navigate the slippery streets. Fortunately, the frequently malfunctioning elevator in my building was working.
In the harsh fluorescent light of the elevator cab, I studied her face while she studied the little notices taped on the wall by fellow tenants and the ubiquitous takeout menus dropped by numerous delivery men.
Fluorescent light is unforgiving. It magnifies every pore and gives the healthiest complexion a sickly hue; not her face. I couldn't find a pore or line or imperfection in her flesh, and her skin still seemed to glow. And her hair was even paler than it had seemed under the Halogen street lamps in the snow.
The elevator shuddered to a halt, and the door wheezed open. I led her down the short hallway to my door. It took a few seconds for me to find my keys and fumble the locks open. I pushed the door wide, reached in to flick on the lights and made a grand gesture. "Madam, my humble abode." I hoped my cleaning lady had been there during my absence. I followed Heidi into my apartment and locked the door behind us.
"This is very nice," she said simply. "I like it here."
"Thanks. Give me your coat and get out of your - boots?" Which is what she was wearing: hiking boots. Logical for a kid her age in the Northeast in winter.
"Of course." She unfastened the coat as I slipped out of my impractical and totally ruined shoes. Under the coat she wore a leather vest, and black turtleneck sweater and jeans. I was careful not to gape, drool or let my eyes bug out. She was stacked. Above her narrow hips was a waist that I could probably have encircled with both hands; after a dozen plates of ice cream, it might have grown to 19 inches. Her breasts were not huge, but they were disproportionately large and appeared to be perfect, jutting with the proud grace and defiance of her youth.
I hung her coat and mine on hooks on the outside of the foyer closet door and slid the drip mat under them. When I turned back to her, she was bent at the waist, knees straight, and unfastening her boots. Her jeans were tight to begin with; now they were taut over the flesh of her lean, round buttocks. The stitching in the crease of her jeans had pulled up tightly between her legs, and the split of her labia was clear through the fabric. Tired as I was, I was far from dead, and my dick was reminding me of that by stiffening.
When she'd pulled the boots off and straightened, she'd lost a good two inches of her height. The top of her platinum hair was at my shoulder height. I took the boots from her and put them on the drip tray. "That feels so good!" she said, and gave a little shiver. "They are so heavy. Might I make use of your facility?"
"My - ? Oh. Sure. Through there." I pointed. She smiled, excused herself and scurried toward the bathroom. I left her bags where they sat and took mine into my bedroom. I figured I had time, so I quickly stripped and changed into jeans and an old zip-front sweatshirt. It was not the height of fashion, but it was comfortable.
I padded, barefoot, into the kitchen. Still no Heidi. I went into the kitchen and put up some water for tea. Heidi appeared in the doorway. "Would it be an imposition if I used your shower?"
I took her hands in mine. The shock of touch was tangible. I smiled to cover my surprise. "Heidi, you are a guest in my home. Please feel free to use anything you see. If you need something you don't see, just ask. Mi casa es su casa."
"You're very kind to a stranger, but I don't want to impose - "
"If I wasn't willing to have you here, I wouldn't have invited you. Go take your shower. Would you like some tea?"
"That would be lovely." She leaned toward me, stretched up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against my cheek. "You are very kind."
"... 's nothing." That was all I could stammer. Again, her touch was electric. She spun and went to her bags, getting a change of clothes, I assumed. I was grateful for the chance to regroup.
Something was seriously strange. A beautiful 18-year-old Swiss girl named Heidi asks me to put her up for the night, is obviously completely comfortable being near me and touching me - even kissing me (albeit, chastely). She is a physically captivating woman. When we touch, I feel like a character in some idiotic teenage love song from the Fifties (which I remember, with chagrin). And even as I prepare two mugs of hot tea, she is in my bathroom, taking off her clothes and getting into the shower where she will work up a rich, slippery froth of soap all over her glorious body and...
The implacable wailing of the kettle jolted me out of my reverie. I loaded a pair of infusers with some Russian Caravan tea and poured the boiling water. I tried not to picture her in the shower (... lovingly warm water pouring over her sumptuous young breasts, hands moving over her waist, fingers dipping to delicate lower places... ) and put the mugs on a tray. I took the assemblage into the living room and set it down on the cocktail table. I could still hear the shower running (... the water beading on her nipples, rivulets running down the crease of her ass... ). I checked my answering machine; nothing of note, except something I'd been expecting - a friend's lover had lapsed into coma. Too much of that anymore. I felt a pang for him and even more for my friend. His diagnosis was positive, too.
I sat on the sofa and reached for my favorite pipe and my humidor. I hoped she wasn't one of those anti-smoking zealots, offended by the sight of Demon Weed. I'd been looking forward to this bowl for what seemed like ages.
I was just tamping the first light when the bathroom door opened. In a cloud of steam, Heidi emerged with a towel around her head and wearing my bathrobe. "I - I hope you don't mind... Oh! You smoke a pipe!"
I nodded, relighting it. "I hope the smoke doesn't bother you."
"I love the smell of a pipe. It reminds me of my great-grandfather's - " She clamped her mouth shut. "It is a pleasant memory."
I gestured. "Sit, rest, have some tea."
She sat kitty-corner from me on the other leg of the sectional and hefted her mug in both hands. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the fragrance. "This is wonderful," she said, eyes closed. "At home, when we come in from a cold day, we will have a cup of hot tea..." Her eyes opened slowly. "Sometimes we put a little something in it, to fortify us."
"Something like rum?"
The little spots of color reappeared on her cheeks, and she sipped her tea. The robe, too big for her, was cinched tightly at the waist. When she leaned forward to put the mug back, I got a tantalizing glimpse down the top of the robe to the upper slopes of her breasts. My dick was throbbing insistently.
"There's some rum in that cabinet - " I pointed with the pipe stem. " - if you want. I advise moderation; as tired as you are, it'll hit you hard."
She smiled gently. "I know my capacities." Heidi brought the bottle back from the liquor cabinet. She poured a dollop into her mug and looked the question at me.
"Please - a touch."
She smiled and complied, and I got another glimpse down that robe. I tried to get my mind off it. "Tell me about your home."
The smile metamorphosized into a secretive upturning at the corners of those lush lips. "My home..." She sipped her tea. "It's a very isolated place. My father has a small flat in Geneva where he stays for the business week."
"Is it a small town?"
She shook her head. A few strands of silver hair had sneaked out from beneath the towel. "No, we are very isolated. Very. It can be extremely boring... But I want to know about you, what day-to-day life is like for you in New York City. It must be very stimulating."
"Too much so, sometimes. My work keeps me very busy. I travel a great deal. I've never been to Switzerland, though."
"There's no there, there." Her smile turned odd, almost self-mocking. "The people are all the same, like clones. There're no surprises, nothing unexpected - almost as if we're programmed." She shook her head. "It would be easy to believe we were a town full of robots or somesuch."
"SwissWorld," I suggested.
Her eyes were unfocused for a moment, as if she were seeing someplace else, then she nodded. "Yes. With Yul Brynner as the mayor."
"It must be hard on a bright young woman."
"It's hard on anyone there who wants some diversity in life." She started to yawn, tried to stifle it and failed. She blushed. "I'm sorry. It's not the company but the hour."
"Now it's I who must apologize for keeping you up." I sat down my empty mug and stood. "Let's turn this into your bedroom." I began removing the pillows and cushions from the sectional.
She drained the last of her tea and stood. "How can I help?"
I tossed her the last cushion. "There're extra pillows and bed linen in the closet just inside my bedroom, to the left of the door."
She put the cushion on her part of the sectional and headed for my bedroom while I pushed the cocktail table out of the way and unfolded the convertible bed. She returned with the linens and shook out the bottom sheet. I took my side and began tucking it into place.
"You are very kind," she said, bending to tuck her side - and giving me a good look alllll the way down the robe. "It's so generous of you to take me in like this. I wish there was some way to repay your kindness."
Looking down her robe, I thought of suggesting she take me in - and reminded myself that this was a sheltered 18-year-old. My prick wasn't paying attention and resumed throbbing.
"The pleasure of your company is more than sufficient repayment," I lied, glibly. We finished the sheets and each of us socked a pillow into a case. I tossed mine onto the bed, at the head, as I straightened. "What time do you want to get up?"
"The day after tomorrow," she said, eyes liquid blue on me. "I'm quite drained."
I stifled the impulse to offer a refill.
"I have a timepiece - I am Swiss - " With a quick flash of dimples. " - and I'll set it for seven. I don't want to inconvenience you, so I'll be out of here and on my merry way by eight, on the dot."
"Don't be silly. I won't toss you out of here a moment before noon." She seemed slightly puzzled. "It's a little joke," I explained. "Very little."
She nodded gravely.
"I have no appointments tomorrow, Heidi; it's Saturday. I planned to spend the day recovering from jet lag. Wake me when you get up. Until then, if you need anything, help yourself."
"Thank you."
"Sweet dreams."
"Um, yes - you, too. Good night."
I went into my bedroom knowing I was going to be having wet dreams. As I washed, the weariness again caught up with me. I barely made it to my bed, and I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, or some such cliché.
For a moment, I was disoriented in the darkness. I thought I was still in the room in London. Then I remembered where I was and wondered what woke me.
I focused on the unintelligible murmuring. Oh, yes, the gorgeous 18-year-old Swiss miss in my living room. To whom was she talking? I rolled carefully to the edge of the bed and stood on unsteady legs, then padded to the door.
" - through the day tomorrow and expect to complete my program by the end of the storm tomorrow night and will return with a full sample in approximately 20 hours - End."
Followed by complete silence. No more voice, no sounds of movement - nothing. I tried to figure it out, decided I was probably dreaming and stumbled back to bed.
I was awakened next by a light, almost bashful tapping on my door. Gray light was filtering through the drapes, and the clock said it was a little after 10. "Yes?" I croaked.
Heidi took that as an invitation and opened the door. "Good morning!" she said.
I blinked. Maybe I was still dreaming. She glowed - with energy, youth, vitality... sexuality. "Uh, good morning."
"I have made breakfast for you," she announced proudly.
"Breakfast," I repeated.
"Yes, the first meal of the day, the breaking of the night's fast."
I brought my hand up and rubbed the bridge of my nose. All the water I had drunk during the previous 24 hours - in a vain attempt to subdue the effects of jet lag - seemed to have accumulated in my bladder. I needed to piss in the worst way, which only strengthened the morning hard-on that resulted from fuzzy dreams of one gorgeous 18-year-old Swiss goddess who now stood in my doorway wearing a man-cut dress shirt untucked over what looked like sweatpants. Lucky sweatpants.
"But there was no food," I managed.
"Yes, I saw that, so I took your keys and went out to the local stores and brought back food. The storm has continued!"
("... the end of the storm tomorrow night...")
"That's very thoughtful of you." I realized with a dull thud that laying on my back meant a rather conspicuous tenting of the sheet and single blanket. I rolled to my side, blushing. "Sorry," I muttered.
"Please - I am not offended. Your coffee is prepared, too!"
So much for displays of rampant masculinity inducing weak knees in the fair sex. "That's... nice. I'll join you in a few minutes. Thank you."
She smiled gloriously and closed the door. I groaned and climbed out of the bed, trying to sort through vague dreams and recollections. I waddled to the bathroom and silently commanded my cock to soften. Lacking ears, it did not listen. Matters had not been helped, of course, by not having been laid in a month. With the spread of the HIV plague, it was becoming more and more difficult to find a safe sex partner, and I'd learned a long time before that I was not cast in the role of happily monogamous guy. That meant long spells of no sex, with masturbation as the only release - and frankly, I just didn't enjoy my palm as much as I had when I was a teenager endlessly proving my virility to myself.
After aching minutes of coaxing enough pee out of my bladder to start the flow of release, I stepped into the shower and let the hot spray finish waking me. By the time I'd shaved, brushed, gargled and clothed myself, a good 15 minutes must have passed. I was functional. Not fully awake or alert but functional.
Heidi had laid out a single, formal place-setting in the dining nook and the windows gave proof that, yes, the storm had continued. Was continuing. Snow pelted the panes.
I stared at the breakfast laid out for me. Half a grapefruit, orange juice, a bowl of shredded wheat, a cup of black coffee.
"Aren't you joining me?"
The smile blossomed. "I've already been up for a while, sleepyhead. Sit down and eat. You need fuel for the body!"
I stumbled into the chair and reached for the coffee, desperate. I sipped. It was awful. "This is Folger's, isn't it?"
She frowned and nodded. "Yes. I understood this to be very popular. And it was the only coffee in the store."
So she'd gone to the convenience store. Hey, I wasn't going to gripe; she'd been the one to go out and get the stuff. "Yes, it's very popular."
That smile returned, brightening the room. I took another sip of the "coffee" and the smile intensified. Only then did I realize she had already folded the bed linen and closed the convertible.
"And I brought the newspapers," she said brightly. "You read a lot of newspapers, don't you?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"You just seemed the kind of person who keeps up with your world." She'd brought me the Times, Newsday, Daily News and Post. The first noted the snow. Newsday reported how the New York City-area was responding. The other two screamed BLIZZARD! from their headlines. For the benefit of anyone who hadn't noticed.
As I chowed down, she peppered me with questions about the local stores, the selection of food, the availability of fresh fruit and poultry. A dozen questions, a hundred, as if she'd never seen a modern city before. As I answered, I realized that she probably had never seen anything like midtown Manhattan before - because there'd been nothing like it.
When I'd finished, we both cleared the table, and I showed her how I loaded my dishwashing machine. In the process of reaching to refill my coffee cup, her breast and my arm came into contact. Again, that tingling - and the awareness that her breast was as firm as the grapefruit I'd just eaten and noticeably larger.
"Sorry," I muttered. "Crowded in here."
"It's quite alright. I don't mind."
Looking me right in the eye, her gaze level and calm.
We stood like that for a long time. I was intensely aware of the closeness of her and quite certain there was nothing under that shirt and sweatpants but her and equally certain that this was a big mistake on my part. Then her lips parted slightly, and I was kissing her.
Eighteen and sheltered, I thought (sort of) but definitely knowledgeable. Her lips were warm and moist and soft without being sloppy, and her tongue moved like an epee, reaching out to touch and parry, to meet and twirl. She was lithe against me, but insistent. I could feel the heat from between her legs, and the press of her beautifully curved form was burning itself into me.
When my hands moved to cup her hard buttocks, she broke the kiss and said, "It's too crowded in here."
It was the pause that inflames - and gave me time to think (sort of).
"Heidi, this is dangerous - "
"There is no danger." She was urging me back toward the living room, toward the area rug in front of the fireplace.
"But there are diseases - "
"Your words testify to your carefulness."
She was backing me up. "But I don't know anything about your - "
Her hands cupped my face, her gaze laser-flat and intense. We were standing still. "I told you - I am from an isolated place. Trust me: I am safer than you can imagine."
I believed her. But: "Birth control?"
She almost smiled. "I will not conceive."
"But - "
"Will you toss me out into the snow?" And she pulled the blouse open, slowly, popping one button at a time.
I gaped. Her breasts were perfect, rounded in the shape of overripe pears, with an underswell that demanded fingertips. Her nipples were rosy and ever-so-slightly uptilted and ever-so-totally erect. My hands reached out, and my fingers, trembling, grazed the undersides of her tits. Flawless.
Her eyes half-closed and she shivered. "I've wanted that since the first time I saw you," she breathed and pulled my face down to her tits.
Groaning, I fell to my knees and worshiped her breasts. I feasted on them, running my tongue over the underswells and savoring her sighs, brushing my lips over her nipples and feeling her hands tighten in my hair. I was vaguely aware of the shirt falling to the floor behind her and totally aware of my hands caressing her bare back, her waist, her hips, coming to rest on her ass. Oh, her ass! I gripped it as tightly as I could, nearly covering each cheek with my fingers, and there was virtually no give to it. I tugged the waist of the sweatpants as I kissed my way down over her taut belly and indrawn abdomen. Her pubis saw the gray light of day only for a moment before I was pushing my mouth against it, my tongue seeking and finding the damp furrow of her labia beneath the light thatch of damp blonde hair.
I feasted on her pussy as I stripped the sweatpants the rest of the way down the sleek columns of her thighs. Above me, she was groaning and shaking, her hands resting on my head for balance. My tongue found her clitoris, engorged and prominent, and brushed across it. Her clit was large, a particular turn-on for me, and at my first touch, she began to cum - another of my turn-ons. She huffed and gasped and her knees began to buckle. I drew her down into my arms and laid on her rug. When I bent to her thighs again, she pushed me away.
"You must - disrobe," she breathed, her voice husky. It took me roughly 15 seconds to comply. I could not remember my cock being harder than it was at that moment; a kitten couldn't have scratched it. Her fingers came to rest on my shaft.
"Please - teach me," she whispered.
"Are you a virgin?" I was horrified.
"I'm - No, but I've never done it with anyone. Do you mind?"
Mind? I dove back between her thighs and licked and sucked her until the gasps became soft screams, and she was arching and writhing beneath my tongue. I slipped one finger into her moist slot and was appalled by her tightness. She was very narrow and small down there. I was concerned with hurting her.
"Please!" she wailed quietly. "I need to feel you inside me!"
"I'm afraid of hurting you," answered truthfully.
"I don't care! I must have you inside me now!" She tugged insistently on my cock.
I reversed myself clumsily as she pulled her knees up and opened her legs wider. Her feet were flat on the rug to either side of me as I lowered myself above her. She guided my stiff erection to her entrance and rubbed it up and down, grimacing with pleasure each time she brushed her clitoris with my glans.
"Does it please you to see me cum so much?" she asked. "Does it really please you?"
"Nothing could please me more."
If there'd been any hesitation or doubt in her face before, it was totally gone now.
"Fuck me! Please!"
I pushed down and into her. She fed my achingly stiff dick into her tight young pussy, cramming the knob inside. The heat and wetness of her were astonishing. The stricture of her cunt was breathtaking. If she hadn't been so thoroughly lubricated, her vagina would have chafed my cock. But there was also a molten liquidity about her cunt that pulled at me, almost sucking me into her. Her narrow pussy seemed to pulse around me, as if she were cumming already - but not just at the entrance. Her entire cunt was pulling and contracting, dragging my cock deeper into her. My balls had been swollen and tight to begin with; now they felt as if they'd burst.
And all the time, beneath me, Heidi stared up at me with eyes wide - as if she were terrified and at any moment would begin to scream. Her lips were slightly parted and the tip of her tongue lingered at the corner of her mouth, barely visible. She had one hand on my hip and the other guiding my stiff shaft. When my dick was halfway into her, she put that hand on my other hip and pulled me steadily deeper.
"Are you OK?" I whispered. "Are you OK?"
Her eyes bulged. She continued tugging at my hips. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Her legs came up high around my waist. I felt her heels pounding my ass, then her calves were pulling me deeper into her. My dick felt like she was strangling it and drawing it deeper and deeper. The electric tingle I'd felt whenever she touched me seemed now to be concentrated near my prostate. My balls felt literally as if they would burst. She held me all the way inside her magical cunt and began clenching and spasming on me. The buzzing tingle tightened my entire pelvis. Beneath me, her head was shaking, as if she were having some kind of seizure.
Stevie
- 28.10.2022
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