This was that night.

You know that night.

The night when your period is about 48 hours away and you feel a little tender and sluggish.

It was Saturday night and I had barely dressed myself all day.

I took a shower on Friday before work, went out clubbing Friday night and crashed in bed, drunken.

I had done no such grooming on this Saturday. No comb ran through my hair, no water hit my skin I just threw on some sweats, microwaved some popcorn and lay on the couch watching On Demand episodes of prime time network tv shows.

I had planned to hit the pool, the but the sky had other plans so it rained and I stood out on the terrace smoking and getting soaked.

Overall, a peaceful day.

I lay in bed with the laptop, watching cheesy old movies from the seventies sipping on a warm beer until I fell asleep.

I wasn’t dreaming but my laptop was off and moved and I could feel my nipples hardening.

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust thinking that maybe  I had left on the ceiling fan but I hadn’t.

It was his hand.

I didn’t move but my first thought was, oh shit I am not smelling very much like I am ready for sex. Perhaps if I pretend to snore he will roll over and let me sleep.

He pulled my body closer to his very aggressively, almost like he was trying to wake me up and plopped my breast in his mouth.

For me, caveman moves are hard to resist. So I thought, well let’s see how far this goes.

I could smell the alcohol coming out of his sweat and I figured, eh what the hell, this probably won’t take long, it has been a few days, and so what if I smell like caramel popcorn and garlic, at least we’re both going to get some ass and have a deeper sleep.

When he sucks on my tits its kind of weird.

Its intense on his part, I mean he is really sucking. Its not like on porn where the guy is caressing your boob and licking the nipple with his tongue, swirling it around like its an ice cream cone.

No.

Its more like some bloke in the desert is drinking the last bit of water from a canteen, he is gripping the bag for dear life, squeezing the water into the tip, hoping every single drop will keep him alive one moment longer.

I almost feel like when he does this, I will freakishly start lactating again because he is pulling like a baby’s mouth would. Of course I cradle his head like any other mother.

This freaks me out a little bit.

He likes to alternative tits so he does this tune in Tokyo move on the left breast, preparing the nipple for suckage by rotating it like a radio dial while he straw sucks the right one stiff.

I often pretend at this moment that I am dealing with a novice, some seventeen year old girl that I met at the grocery store who is fascinated by me and I invite over for some girly nail polish time and somehow we end up in my room in bed and she is trying to turn me on by sucking the life out of me through my breast.

Not sure why its always a girl.

He does this for a while his sucking, and I look down at his face, his eyes closed like he is concentrating and he sucks harder when he notices my eyes like he is in front of a camera putting on a how to latch your newborn episode on his youtube channel.

I want to laugh out loud at my own head jokes but of course if I do he will think that I am laughing at him and then he will get upset and we won’t have sex again until Thanksgiving.

I think he likes my breasts more than my vagina. And although I too like the sucking, he will get more animation out of me if he traveled south to explore.

Apparently I shifted in such a way that this request became obvious and he slid his free hand between my legs, and stroked the hair I hadn’t shaved on my sweaty mound.

He started patting me, kind of like the way you would a good dog that didn’t eat your shoes. I don’t like this so I don’t respond. It takes him a while to realize that I actually want him to softly stroke my clit to attention as he fumbles around down there like a chick looking for her keys in a small handbag.

He finds it, eyes closed, sucking on his favorite tit which is now two sizes larger than its twin and notices it is not wet.

Well I  have been asleep for heaven’s sake and I wasn’t planning on sex tonight.

In my head I think oh what a terrible thing to do to grab his head and push it down when I haven’t showered since Friday. Oh what the hell I think but I don’t do it. I just arch my back, lifting my pelvis up as he tickles me indicating yes you can put your face there at your own risk.

He just tickles away instead.

Smart man,

This some how reminds me of my best friend and the night we spent together, well the hours we spent together having sex in his hotel room when we came to Las Vegas on business. I suppose I am getting more into it because I am pretending that the man fumbling around down there is my drunk friend and I want him to hit the spot so I am making it easier by moving my ass just so, so that every touch goes deeper into my canal, until his entire hand is covered in my wetness and when his hand emerges back and forth, his knuckle constantly strokes my clit until it is plump and ready. I am thinking about this so strongly that I am in that room all over again with him and I am about ready to burst.

My first thought when I am moaning is, I hope I did not just say my best friend’s name.

My second thought was, I hope that my bedroom door is closed and my child isn’t walking to the kitchen to get some water and he hears this.

I open my eyes, door is closed and I sigh.

Bed is wet and its not my best friend with me, but I didn’t ruin the moment because he hasn’t stopped sucking, tuning and poking me.

Although it wasn’t graceful, I am impressed.

He actually took the time to rev up my engine before jumping on me and just screwing me awake. I didn’t know if the improvement was due to something I said, or something he saw or read but either way, albeit a sloppy execution, the desired effect had been reached.

I came twice.

And I was actually ready for a more penetrative experience.

So he mounts, still tuning, which is funny because he doesn’t have to guide himself into me,  he finds his way naturally which I think was the first sign of improvement in the process on his end. Normally there is a lot of dry poking with both of us staring at the walls in frustration until he rubs me long enough with his shaft that it starts a small enough lava flow to glide in.

This time I am relaxed and don’t fight it.

We have intercourse and our hips swirl like we are dancing and finally he reaches his climax and rolls off.

He asks me, are you your period? Which I think is hilarious, not only because it is coming soon but usually the moisture level is higher on those nights when we can’t resist nature, this again makes me think about my best friend briefly, but I respond no, actually.

He looked like a light bulb had just clicked on over his head like those cartoon characters have when they get an idea.

Eureka, buddy!

He toweled himself off and kissed me, mind you the only kiss through out the process, which I suppose he will incorporate into the whole event once he has mastered this technique that has pleased my body so sufficiently that I am pliable and amiable, a new me he rarely experiences.

He rolled over, yawned and was immediately asleep.

I got up, found my sweats and grabbed my unfinished beer, my smokes and hit the laptop.

This was that night.

I hadn’t written anything at all today, so this would have to do.