Friday, August 21, 2009
I hadn’t seen her in years and if it were up to me, it would have stayed that way. Fate, however, had other plans.
Of all the clubs, in all the cities, in all the world, she walked into mine. I saw her as soon as she sauntered through the door, wearing those damn red heels I love and a form-fitting black dress that stuck to her hourglass shape like a label.
“Who the hell invited her,” I thought to myself.
Truthfully, it didn’t matter. She was here now and there was nothing I could do about it.
Her name was Remy. She and I had an on and off relationship for a few years. We always had a good time together but she was bad for me. Real bad.
When Remy got in my system, wasn’t no telling what kind of trouble we’d get into. I always found myself doing things out of my character when in her presence but the sex was amazing and kept me coming back. She was my addiction and I finally kicked the habit.
She was out of my life and I was better for it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her.
Remy was a big part of my life. Back when I was hitting any and every party, she was always by my side. We’d club hop until the wee hours of the night and ravage each other’s bodies before we even got home.
I can only imagine how many cabbies witnessed her sucking me off in the backseat of their cab or listened to her moan while I finger fucked her. This became our ritual. Remy stopped wearing panties altogether so nothing could impede my curious fingers from exploring her throbbing clit as we crossed the bridge back into Brooklyn.
All these memories flooded my mind as soon as I saw her.
She looked good. Real good.
But I knew she was bad. Real bad.
Still, I indulged her.
Our eyes had locked across the room a while ago, and she finally made her way through the sea of people towards me.
Keep your cool, man, keep your cool.
She arrived at my section and I extended my arms to welcome her into my embrace.
She smelled amazing.
I didn’t stand a chance.
We exchanged pleasantries and kept things PC, but then came the million-dollar question: “So, what are you drinking?”
“Just pineapple and orange juice,” I replied.
“And…,” she asked, inquisitively.
“Nothing, I’m keeping it light tonight.”
Remy had other ideas.
She ordered round after round and it wasn’t long before we hit the dance floor. We slow grinded to “Murder She Wrote” and she had me hooked.
I palmed her ass in a darkened corner of the club and she liked it.
I pulled on her hair in front of the bathroom and she wanted more.
She kissed me and I dropped my drink on the floor. I didn’t even care, I was all into Remy.
We danced as if we had the club to ourselves. My hands found a familiar place at the small of her back and worked their way down to her ass. I quickly discovered that some things never change.
She wasn’t wearing panties.
Remy looked up at me with this seductive gaze, before leaning up to my ear and whispering, “Do you miss me?”
The question alone made me hard, but I wanted to be good. I wanted to say no, but Remy discreetly grabbed my dick and had her answer.
She kissed me again. Deeply. Passionately. Intently.
I did miss her, but right now I wanted her.
It wasn’t long before we were exiting the club and hailing a cab back to my place.
It was just like old times. My rock hard dick was Remy’s plaything. She sucked me off from the Chelsea to Crown Heights, while our audience of one listened intently from the front seat. When we arrived at our destination and I tossed the cabbie $40 for his troubles.
Remy and I clawed at each other’s clothes all the way up the front steps. By time I got the key into the lock I could barely contain myself and pressed her against my hallway wall. I hiked up her dress and dropped down to my knees so I could taste her love.
She was sweet.
Although every part of my being knew this was a mistake, I was too weak to resist Remy so I fucked her.
I fucked her for old times sake. I fucked her because she looked good. I fucked her because she wanted me to. I fucked her because I wanted to. I fucked her because I could.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized how fucked up I was as I woke up alone with an empty bottle of Remy by my side.
Have you ever had a lover you knew was wrong for you but you just couldn’t resist? Have you ever made out in a crowded club or room full of people? If so, did the audience turn you on? Would you take an old lover up on their offer for one last night together with no strings attached? Why or why not? Do you think sex is better or worse when you’re drunk?
Speak your piece…
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