Healing

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I was recently turned 22, having endured a divorce and found refuge in a house with 6 other bachelor friends. Rent was cheap, allowing for more money towards alcohol and whatever to occupy my newly found time. My friends, in an effort to sustain me had put out to ALL of their friends that I was single, available and not very discriminating.
I spent the majority of my time off the clock in a state of empty inebriation, having committed an emotional suicide of sorts as a method of survival. Sexual interactions were purely that. An object to be used, to relieve stress, frustration or just fulfill that primal desire to procreate. It was all very casual, no ties, no strings, a human sex toy that would bring coffee or make breakfast as a consolation prize, only to send them on their merry way, physically fulfilled.
During this time I had become friends with a rather attractive girl, senior to me by a couple of years and incredibly practical. My attraction was largely based on her approach to the whole thing. She, like myself, had suffered an emotional wound that was deep. I never asked, she seemed quite comfortable keeping it to herself. Our introduction was during a hot tub party, where in which, both of us drunk and exasperated by the water temperature, had sex. It was curiosity, convenience, and just plain fun. But this time was different. Another Saturday night. Another scene of drunken debauchery and merriment with the multitudes that mobbed our domicile. Alcohol flowed like water, and as tested, even the air in the living room was too drunk to drive.
She showed as per usual. A fixture among the standard chaos of such an evening, but instead of the standard of blue jeans, t-shirt and waist cut leather jacket she was in a dress. It seemed so out of place, the kind more at home at a high school dance. I greeted her, uncontrollably smiling at the sight of her standing there and bowed. For some reason it seemed appropriate. She returned the smile and managed an awkward curtsy attempting to match my displayed formality. We laughed for a moment at the absurdity of the whole exchange. Offering an outstretched hand, she relented her own and I led her through the crowd into the living room. The masses parted, temporarily ceasing all speech and action, taking in the sight of her, then me, the look on my face daring them to say anything but the most respectful of compliments lest they find themselves ejected from the evening's entertainment. The senior member of the household was holding court as he did, surrounded by hopefuls and those aspiring to potential greatness, regailing them with stories of his youth long gone in history. He looked up while speaking and stopped immediately, smiling broadly and greeting her warmly. He looked beside himself at the young girl that sat there, asking her to be a dear and get him a drink. She blushed as she stood, trying to hide her happiness in acknowledgement and went towards the kitchen, pushing through the crowd.
He swept his hand aside, offering our new guest, an old friend, a seat beside him in the newly vacated location. She smiled at him, nodding, and at that I spun her around to face me, taking her other hand and lowering her on to the couch slowly, making eye contact. There was a look, a sadness that she briefly betrayed in her expression, and for a moment the world stopped, my own face filling with concern. As she sat, releasing my hands, she waved at me, looking away and smiling "it's nothing" and then looking at me again, the faintest trace of tears in her eyes. She had been known to be melancholy at times and I am ashamed to admit I dismissed it in favor of the already buzzed happiness that I had mixed up since earlier that evening. I took her beverage request, a combination of whiskey and Coke in a big gulp container and hurried into the kitchen, passing my friend's youthful porter returning to my the household patriarch. I paused and turned to watch the scene unfold, seeing her stop, shoulders slumping into an exaggerated pout seeing a "new girl" having occupied her spot. Seeing her expression, he laughs, smiles and says "I was afraid I lost you to the crowd, I saved you a spot" moving his right knee outward, offering his lap. She loosed a giggle and willfully perched on his leg. Taking his drink in one hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist, he turned and introduced his waitress to your mutual friend. Satisfied that any drama was long gone, I pushed my way into the kitchen, mixing the requested drink, one for myself as well and returned to the couch.
I handed off the beverage to it's new owner, going to my knees at her feet to settle into my own and listen to the stories I had heard so many times before. During the tales, my lady friend and I exchanging smirks and eyerolls amongst chuckles at the obvious embellishments meant to impress the young lady. I caught her stopping at my gaze, pausing, smile disappearing and a look that was intense, sad and yearning before she would force it down to smile and look towards our storyteller. The evening carried on, entering the midnight hours, volume increasing in the crowd, not allowing for adequate communication at normal volumes. She started frowning more often at the prospect of her not being able to hear, or having to repeat herself, finally leaning forward to speak into my ear "can i borrow your room? It's a bit too loud in here". I could feel her hot breath against my ear and even in my warmish state I felt a small stirring just below my stomach. Standing I offered my hand, smiling "of course" taking her hand to brave the crowd to the stairs leading to my room. We mounted the stairs together, moving around those in conversation, or too drunk to stand, arriving at my door, opening it and leading her through, shutting it behind her. Setting my drink down on the dresser, I made the bed, left in disarray from the morning's adventures, and offered her a seat. The din of the party having been abated by the closed door, I could hear her say softly "thank you", kicking off her shoes and sitting cross-legged on the bed, drink still in hand.
She was adorable. Prom queen, sitting on my bed slight smile on her lips and her eyes looking at me with the depth of sadness. "I'm not one to assume anything, would you like some quiet time alone? If you want, you can sleep here, I'm sure he will have an empty couch available for me to crash on". She laughed, dismissing the idea. "How have you been?" Pausing, collecting enough thought for intelligent speech "Oh, you know, steadily drunk, numbing whatever feelings I have left, doing my thing" She smiled "Oh, I understand, meet anyone 'new' lately?" I took my drink from the dresser, taking a long pull, carefully weighing my next words, the truth finally winning. "Ah, another broken heart trying to verify that they are still wanted and attractive, of course I was happy to help" "Your kindness is without bounds, so much sacrifice" a wry smile partially obscured by the beverage in her hand. "Perhaps the Catholics may have me sainted, patron saint of casual sex" laughter from both if us this time. It faded to a serious look from her, the kind woman get when an emotionally charged question is inevitable. "At least you're not lonely with all of your 'friends' visiting your revolving door" there was a cut there, maybe jealousy, maybe something else. Her expression getting darker. "I wouldn't go that far. They all want confirmation, maybe a stress reliever, heh, still haven't gotten a phone number"…….. "Do you think I'm pretty?" I was taken aback by this question. Stammering slightly "As the newborn sun cresting the horizon bringing the hope of happiness and a new day" my drunken eloquence and flattery was legendary in our social group. Unfortunately being caught off guard I reverted to something more poetic and cheesy. "Seriously, do you?" I paused, looking at her. I sat down on the bed next to her, taking her in. I took a sip to clear my throat. Her shoulder length dirty blonde hair was pulled back and tied, leaving a couple of strands on either side of her face. Eyes, so deeply blue and beginning to well up with tears. Narrow pointed nose crested with freckles from one cheek to the other. Fair cheeks flowing to a pointed chin, above it lips unadorned by lipstick, but full, turning downward on the verge of releasing. I slowly extended my hand, two fingers, moving strands of hair from her face to behind her ear. "Yes." All of my eloquence vanished, and in that moment I was stripped down to monosyllabic simplicity. But that single word was pure, raw, unadultered truth. And what she needed to hear. She looked up at me, intensity returning, doubling down on emotion, her eyes wide with tears. Her face moved forward with a quickness smashing her lips against mine. My hands instinctively moved to her shoulders to push her back. She was a friend, she had been drinking…..she was lonely, sad, in pain. My hands changed from pushing to holding, and then pulling. The intensity of that kiss was hot, burning, consuming. I felt her tongue attempt to invade, I relented and allowed her inside, doing the same with my own, swirling together inside our joined mouths. Her hands holding my face. My hands moving down her shoulders, moving her dress exposing the fairness beneath. Her right hand grabbing my shirt at my chest, I pivoted towards her, bringing my legs up onto the bed. She pulled harder, pulling her to me, intensifying our kiss, her left hand moving to my waist. I felt my pants buttons give way and the zipper follow. She pushed me onto my back, losing the kiss, but looking at me. It wasn't sexual desire, or drunken horniness, It was longing, a need, not a want. Off with the shoes, pants, underwear. I went to pull off my shirt, all too familiar with the sequence of events and falling into the standard pattern. She got up off the bed, hands reaching under her dress removing her underwear, cute, satin, pink with lace on the edges. Leaving them there she got back onto the bet, straddling me, knees on either side. I sat up just in time for her to catch my face with her hands again, kissing me again, hot and intense again, except now a wet warmth against my lapgrinding against me. My hands on her back this time, finding the zipper and pulling it down to the bottom, just above her butt. Hands moving back up, pulling her dress down, kept up barely my her breasts, taught and heaving. She dropped her arms, pulling them through the shoulders which fully exposed her breasts, then immediately pressed herself against my chest her arms wrapped over my shoulders, hands on the back of my head, fingers in my hair, hips rotating back and pushing forward, now with an identifiable rhythm. My hands on her ass now, gripping through the dress, pulling inward against me, matching her hip movement, feeling her slide against my now fully erect state. It wasn't happening fast enough, not for her. Reaching down with her right hand she grabbed me, picking herself up with her legs, rubbing herself with my tip until she found the spot, the niche. She removed her hand, letting go of her weight, using it to impale herself on me, sliding over me, painfully at first then sliding all the way in with the help of her slick wetness inside. She stopped kissing me, mouth open, breathless, looking into my eyes, and deeper.
Her actions surprised me. I had had my times out and about, but this was a first. This desperate need was new to me and I found myself only able to hold on and take things as they come. Our bodies settled into their new found circumstances, her eyes closing again, and kissing again, her hips beginning to grind again. We were there, face to face, upright, on common ground, no one dominant, just desperate. Tears began streaming down her face and I could feel the tremors making her body quiver. Crying, orgasm, one in the same, filling my chest with emotion, suddenly realizing how empty I was now filled with her sadness, her pain, her anger, her loneliness and revealing my own at the same time. Tears now in my own eyes, streaming down my cheeks and mixing with hers, like our hearts, our emotions, our pain of failed relationships, our fears of inadequacy, we kissed like we were licking each others wounds. The shuddering came again, stronger this time, feeling her body grip mine with spasms. Picking herself up with her legs again, almost to the point of removal, dropping down on it me. Her mouth releasing my own, moving her head beside mine, this time audible, loud, pleasure and pain betrayed by the sound from within. I stopped, afraid that she was hurt and she whispered in my ear "Please, more". Those words went into my ear and reached a part of me that I hadn't felt, not in the last year, maybe my entire life. This time thrusting up into her, I felt her teeth bare down on my shoulder, disregarding her established cadence and replacing it with my own. I was stronger, harder, faster, and with each push she squeaked, a small yell, getting louder, motivating me to push harder, feeling her body gripping tighter, now screaming through her teeth buried at the base of my neck. Feeling my own intensity rising, my body igniting, I increased the speed and intensity to the most I can muster.
I came, and from the sudden stop in her breath and her arms holding herself against me as tight as she could, she did as well.
She looked at me, mouth open and breathing hard, eyes still wet, but different. The looked distant, happy, and then she saw my face streaked with tears looking at her with wonder. "Oh god I'm sorry!" As if the reality of the last minutes had set in with momentary sobriety. She made an attempt to get off of me, but I held her tight. "No, please don't be" We sat for a minute, just looking at each other, playing back over those moments, realizing that both of us had been laid bare, exposing each other to our deepest, darkest, saddest parts. And we didn't know what to do. I kept holding her until I felt the tension in her shoulders finally give, "you can stay here if you want" "Yeah, that would be…" She fell backwards onto the pillow "nice…." I laid down beside her, pulling the blankets over us both, feeling the temperature subside, protecting us both from the oncoming chill, trapping our collective warmth. I settled in, on my side facing her. She buried her still wet face into my chest, hot breath still emanating from her mouth, slower now, regulated. She slept. I stared at her for a while, still trying to figure out what happened, why it happened. Was she going to be ok? Then sleep overtook me.

The next morning I woke to her looking at me. Still groggy "hey, how are you?" "I'm good, I have to go home and change for work" she looked at her dress on the floor. She must have completely removed it while I slept. "I have sweats and socks you can borrow, a little big though" she smiled and chuckled a little. It was light hearted and a good change to see.

She left that morning, and amazing enough I didn't have a hangover, but the lingering memories of the night before. We never "hooked up" again, but that seemed ok.

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Submitted by TheAdultNeeds.org

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