Her First Stray

“Her First Stray”

The phone rang jarring me from the semi-catatonic state of near sleep and deep fantasy I was in. It was 3:00 a.m. and I knew she had gone out tonight with her girlfriends to a local bar in Detroit near 8 mile. Since we lived apart, I in DC and she in the Michigan ‘burbs, I knew she got lonely—especially on the weekends. Those used to be “our” times—shooting pool, throwing darts, dancing till they threw us out and then off to the car and to whatever dark corner, alleyway, or parking lot we could find to strip off our clothes and grind. My wife, or should I say, my ex-wife, was like that. She liked to drink–loosen up a bit, and let the inhibitions and the “good-girl-guilt-feelings” wash away with the rum and cokes and white Russians. Usually, by the time we got ready to head home, she was horny enough to jump the gear stick. I got more than one wet-slippery blow-job driving our tipsy asses home. But, I digress, what follows is how things got started, her first “stray”, but by the end…well, I’ll let you get to the “end”—an end I never thought I’d get to, or want to.

“So, are you up?” She was giggly and still buzzing—it was so easy to tell with her. Some people are “sad” drunks, not Kerry, she was the happiest drunk-girl I ever knew.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, “especially now.” I took a moment to sit up and throw the covers back. I knew this was going to be good, and I knew I’d need the room. “So, did you have a good time?” I tried to sound casual, as if I hadn’t been lying there for three hours dreaming of her twirling and twisting on the dance floor with her girlfriends and an ever-changing array of college guys.

“Damn straight! I danced all fuckin’ night,” she said with a certain tired pride in her voice, “and, I’m so nasty, freakin’ sweaty—I’m fuckin’ drippin’ wet.”

“Everywhere?” I said, with a tone she’d recognize.

“Oooooohh, honey, are you flirtin’ with me?” the woman could do a very good little girl. This was a part of the game we’d been playing for the last year.

She added, “You know me hubby, I loooovve to dance, and, well, tonight there were sooo many requests; I guess you could say I was the center of attention.” Her voice was a sexy sing-song of seduction.

“I bet you were, ” I added, she knew I wanted to know more.

Her voice dropped an octave, “You know what that little den of iniquity’s like; you’ve been to the Edge on Friday nights!”

“Hmmmm, yeah, I haven’t forgotten—people getting’ shit-faced and then giving face.” Sitting there in the darkness, I switched on the lamp beside the bed. I wanted to see my rock hard cock as I began to “twang” it—holding it down towards my nuts and then letting it fly up till it bounced it’s rosy head off my belly. I continued, “Yeah, I know the women there wear next to nothing, too, and they seemingly enjoy dancing with all the fellas–and I mean all!.”

She laughed and said, “Well, I know I do!” And then added,”it’s gotten so popular now that there is hardly any room on the dance floor—sometimes I feel like I’m dancing with three guys all at once!” She was rambling, but there was a low kind of guttural undertone to her words that had the faint glow of memory to them.

“So, what’d you wear?”

“Hmm, hmmmm, I know where this is going,” she said with a laugh and what I supposed was a wicked smile creasing her soft, pink-glossed lips. “Since I know you’re in bed, you probably got “pole problems,” huh?” Again, I knew her eyes were getting glossy and her hips would soon be grinding. Kerry was as predictable as I was—we were both the horniest of Hell’s bastard minions.

“And, you’re wondering if your wife was a good little girl, aren’t you? Well, you’re the naughty boy!” Just then I could hear her yell out to someone else at the apartment.

“Hey Deena, Vin wants to know what I was wearing tonight, should I tell the truth?” Though I couldn’t make out the reply, Kerry was laughing when she came back on the line. “Deena says I should let you wonder—but I told her that would be torture—plus, she doesn’t know that you’re probably laying there doing a bit of spit-shining, right?”

Her voice was a bit deeper with that last question. She repeated it, “Is your dick all big, slick and veiny? I bet it is, and I bet your strokin’ it hard, aren’t you?