Main image
31st October
written by Dame Suzy

From the moment we met, there was a strong spark of mischievousness and strong attraction. We fed off of each other’s bold energy and silliness, passion for life, innate intellect, and appreciation of the human form. We sang out loudly in the karaoke bar, dragging one of his more timid friends to join us, and after our set he threw me over his shoulder as I struggled to keep my dress over my bare ass.

The first night, Alex waited for me to make the first move. Before I left his car, my lips reached for his and we started making out. Our full lips meshed and played and the kissing left me breathless and him unable to let me go. But I told him he would have to wait until the next night, Halloween.

But the next night he awkwardly introduced me to his girlfriend, who immediately corrected him, “his fiancée.” I almost laughed out loud because I’d had no idea he was taken, except that I also felt a pang of longing. Had I only stayed with him the night before…

She was dressed as a sexy librarian – no curves but cute. I was dressed like sex on a stick, curves everywhere from my thin ankles and waist to muscular calves, wide hips, and full breasts. I noticed she had very thin lips. I have always wondered what men with full lips could do with those things.

Alex was dressed like a Chicago mafia hit man, in a black pin-striped suit and shiny vest. He nervously played with a cigar. He looked unbelievably hot, the back of the suit jacket popping out over his round behind.

Another pang, and I excused myself to get a stiff drink. The fact is that ever since I’d left him the night before, I’d pictured him inside me, being rough and gentle in his macho but suave way. So this new knowledge was a definite let-down. “That’s okay,” I told myself. “There are plenty of other guys here who aren’t getting married.”

And I found myself one. He wasn’t too bright, but he was a good dancer and had pretty hands with long slender fingers. I could think of what he could do with those. And at that thought, one of his fingers slid into me. I didn’t mind. I didn’t care if people could guess what was going on, what with his big body bent over me and his hand under my skirt.

And when I opened my eyes to take a breath, I saw Alex staring at me, his fiancée obliviously talking with several of her girlfriends, probably bridesmaids. And I closed my eyes again and his image appeared, and so I imagined it was his fingers in me.

And when I stepped into a taxi with the big guy, I saw Alex again, this time alone. And he blew me a kiss, and I felt a pang again but the big guy took my mind off it.

It would be two years before I saw Alex again. Two years, no problem. Just a friendly drink. He had been married for over a year – he’d even invited me to the wedding, and though I’d imagined showing up in a short red dress, I was not that rude a bitch.

Long story short, it was he and I alone, in a city in which neither of us lived, brought together by unrelated business in Paris. The spark had apparently become a big throbbing beast, because after a mere hour of joking, cautious flirting, and one drink too many, we were passionately kissing in my hotel room, clothes were being pulled off as quickly as possible, and he was thrusting his beautiful cock in me.

He was a good friend. A good friend who four hours later scrambled for his clothes and returned to his wife, who had unbeknownst to me, come along on this trip.

This time, I did laugh aloud. And I would do the same when we saw each other again in Frankfurt, and Madrid, and New York in the years to come. After spending a few glorious hours with my special friend.

Leave a Reply