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Note: This story is part of a small volume of stories that I have posted here previously. They will appear with different names as chapters (10 in all). I think these stories stand alone well, but they are meant to be read as part of a larger work entitled “Divorcing Myself From Myself.”

This chapter, , is called “Beth.” It was posted here previously with that same title.

Thank you in advance for checking this out, and I’m looking forward to hearing what you all think.

Jim

*****

Beth

There’s a party at Lindy’s house.

Lindy works at the accounting firm where I’ve been temping.

People are drinking wine, hobnobbing, and posturing while the music plays.

Lindy’s best friend Beth is at this party.

Beth is a temping at this firm as well.

She’s between jobs, and Lindy helped her out by getting her this gig.

Beth is a proper sort of woman.

All American.

Like a cheerleader.

A good girl.

We talk, now and again, at the office.

Talk about the weather.

About baseball.

About the latest movies.

About the middle managers that we hate.

We always find ourselves together talking.

And now here we are, together again, at the party.

She’s wearing a black skirt, clogs, and a white Cocteau Twins T-shirt underneath a black vest.

Locks of blonde hair fall across her face, blue eyes, and big smile like champagne drapery.

She anxiously casts covetous glances in my direction as she stands in the kitchen, nursing a glass of wine along with her arousal, listening to a guy sporting sideburns and carrying a canvas man bag talk about Amy Hempel.

She manages to break away when I glance at her and walk out of the kitchen, through the living room to a spare bedroom.

She follows me in within seconds.

We look at each other while the door is open.

She’s closer to it but seems to be waiting for me to close it.

Waiting for me.

For me.

Me.

The seconds hang like hours as we eye each other, wondering.

She wondering if I really want her, I wondering if she really wants me.

I mean really wants me, even though she followed ucuz escort me into the spare bedroom because you can never really know until you know, and even then you might not know, you know?

But, after an interminable silence, she says, “Hi.”

I return the greeting.

After a pause that lasts only a couple of seconds but feels like a couple of decades, she says, “I really like the way the bedspread matches the curtains and carpeting.”

“Yeah, Lindy really has an eye for home decor,” I reply, as I make my way over to the door and close it.

“Pottery Barn is looking for a few good women,” Beth says as I close the door.

She looks at me.

Directly at me.

Her eyes zeroed in on mine.

And then we embrace.

Tight.

And kiss.

Deeply.

Wetly.

Pulling each other into each other.

Her groin is warm.

Mine is bulging.

I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me.

I press into her.

She gasps.

And moans.

I grunt.

I hold her tight and then bring her around to the bed and set her down.

We roll around on the bed, kissing madly.

And then I make my way to her neck.

The side of her neck.

The small of her neck.

Her earlobes.

A kiss on each new location eliciting a different gasp.

Then further down.

Raising her shirt and kissing between her bra obstructed breasts.

Continuing south.

Along and then past her navel.

Further south.

I raise her skirt and start kissing her thighs.

She flinches.

I feel waves of heat emanating from her vagina through her white string bikini panties with a small blue waistband.

I give her small love bites closer and closer to her sex and then glide my face to her panties and bury my face there.

I bite her pussy.

Her clit.

Through the panties.

What’s underneath?

I smell what’s underneath.

The panties.

I blow on her pussy.

Through the panties.

The wet, wet panties.

She squirms and moans and then sits up to remove her shirt and unhook her bra.

Her lacey nude-colored bra.

That ümraniye escort does not match her panties.

The panties I bite and slowly pull off of her.

Slowly down her legs as she lifts them to assist.

And then they are off.

They are off.

I drop them on the floor.

I move my face between her legs as she wraps them around my neck and pulls me in.

I settle my face in her pretty little pink pussy, and then I blow on it.

And lick it.

Up and down the length of it.

Tonguing the clit like a snake striking at its prey as my hands venture upwards to her breasts to tweak and twist her nipples as I keep licking and sucking on her clit, running it between my two front teeth to tease her.

I back off and stick my tongue inside her.

Beth thrusts her pelvis upward into my face as I continue licking and sucking, and finally she bucks.

And groans.

And heaves and groans.

And groans and heaves.

Holding her breath, trying and repeatedly failing not to be too loud, and then groaning louder still.

Louder and louder.

I bite into her clit again, and she cries out loudly, and then her body convulses and gyrates with decreasing intensity until she is lying on the bed in a massive pool of sweat.

I move up now, slowly rubbing my body against hers, and I stop and lick and bite her nipples again, continuing to her shoulder blade and neck which I begin kissing again, and then I embrace Beth still.

She gets up and pulls on my shirt and I get up momentarily while she pulls it off and begins running her fingers across my chest, biting my nipples and coming up to meet me face to face and our lips lock again.

Our tongues fight to see how far they can get down the other’s throat, and occasionally withdraw to spar outside our mouths.

Then we embrace tightly, rubbing each other’s backs, and I bite on Beth’s left earlobe.

She grabs my ass.

Then she leads her hands around front where she backs up a step, and unbuckles my belt and pulls it off, and then, one by one, undoes the buttons on my 501’s, reaching down with both hands to scoop out my swollen penis and I stand üniversiteli öğrenci escort up to kick off my jeans.

Prince William bounces slowly with my pulse, and Beth quietly and softly caresses it and then my drooping balls, and then guides me back to the bed where I lay down.

She kisses and licks the pre-ejaculate oozing purple dome, and then pulls the foreskin all the way back and takes me slowly into her mouth, sucking on the head as it disappears into her mouth and running her tongue around the upper shaft.

This makes me wince.

She pulls her head back, and runs her tongue along the entire length of the shaft and strokes me gently a few times before she gets up to climb onto me.

She holds it while positioning herself over me and running the glans slowly along her labia, and then teasing her clitoris a few times before inserting just the head in, and looking straight into my eyes, pulling it out to return to teasing her clit, and repeating this a few times before finally guiding me in.

She bounces up, down, and around, and veers from side to side while I thrust upwards.

She sits up and leans forward, holding onto the frame of the canopy, and looks deep into my eyes while I play with her breasts and plunge hard into her.

She comes down towards my face.

We kiss while I move around inside her, and grab her hips, and begin motioning her up and down faster and faster as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Her eyes are still closed, and she sits up straight, and moves back and forth, and my jostles are timed perfectly to her epicurean swaying as if we are dancing to the same song in our imaginations.

Her back is arched.

Her breasts are pushed forward.

Her head is thrown back.

She looks like Bernini’s St. Theresa as she cries out louder and louder.

Louder and louder.

I go faster and faster.

Faster and faster.

Louder and faster.

Faster and louder.

We.

Keep.

Going.

And going.

And going.

And then…I explode.

She collapses on me.

We are both crumpled heaps of sweaty flesh.

“I can’t move. I can’t fucking move,” she says softly in my ear.

Neither can I.

Outside, we hear the crickets in the still night air.

We’re peaceful and calm.

She dismounts and curls up next to me.

We lie together in the dark room, and we can hear the Amy Hempel fan just outside the door talking about his new typewriter.

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