Hey, big guy. What are you wearing?
I set the phone on the table and we finished our lunch, both of us glancing over at the phone, waiting for Trevor to respond.
He didn't.
By Friday, I'd almost forgot all about Trevor. And by almost, I mean I'd stopped thinking about him for hours at a time, sometimes as long as three hours.
I was surprised when, at midnight Friday night, I got a text message from him.
It read: Hey, why donit you come ovar? (The two spelling mistakes should have been my first clue it was a drunk text.)
He sent me three more messages, each more insistent than the last, and his address.
I turned off my phone and climbed into my bed, with the grown-up, white sheets.
After a few minutes, I started to imagine what might happen if I went to his house. I remembered my first visit there, when he'd picked me up in the foyer and set my bum on a side table while he'd rubbed his bulge into my crotch, through my tights.
And then, later in his bedroom, on that magnificent King-sized bed. We locked together in reverse, with me on top and his dick in my mouth, my pu**y in his, fitting together perfectly, giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously.
The heat between my legs grew more insistent. The house was quiet, and my door was shut, so I slipped one hand down under the covers and rubbed myself through my panties. It felt good to be touched, to be massaged.
I pushed the other hand down there, inside my panties, and wiggled my fingers around to get them wet. I pulsed my clit, fast then slow, thinking about Trevor. Nailing me in the show suite, on the dresser, as strangers were milling around downstairs. Trevor. Fingering me on my own desk, in my office, where I work, and making me come.
Unfortunately, my hands didn't have that same magic his did, and I couldn't get off. I rolled onto my stomach, driving my mound harder and harder into my fingers, but it only started to sting and not feel good. There was nothing I could do to give me the satisfaction I craved, so I rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes from the floor, and crept out of the house.
“This is crazy,” I told myself as I drove into the half-circle driveway that looped at the front of Trevor's huge house in the suburbs. “I should go home.”
Instead, I parked the car and walked up to his front door.
I didn't ring the doorbell, because the lights were out and I wasn't sure if his ex-wife was still staying at the house or not. I did not want to see her, not tonight, not with me in my sweatpants, there in the middle of the night for a booty call, of all the things.
I had texted Trevor when I got in my car, so he knew I was coming, and I texted him again.
Two long minutes later, he opened the door.
Completely naked.
With a semi-firm erection.
He threw the door open wide, for anyone to see, and said, “Naomi! You came over!”
“You're drunk.”
“I had a few.” He waved me in.
I came in, feeling both uncomfortable and a little excited. As he grabbed me and kissed me roughly, his penis got even more firm, pressing into my stomach. I grabbed his shaft with my hand and squeezed it. Oh, yeah, that was what I wanted.
He said, “You want some wine? You have to catch up with me. Come to my room! I have wine!”
“I bet you do.” I glanced around, annoyed to see women's shoes strewn about the foyer. His ex-wife. And where was she at the moment? In bed? Had she been responsible for his drunken state?
Trevor tried to pick me up, but I told him I didn't feel safe going up the stairs in his arms when he was inebriated.
“I'm not,” he pointed a finger at me, a wavering finger, “I'm not ineb-eb-eb-ated.”
I smacked him on the ass and said, “Let's see if you can still f**k when you're drunk.”
He gasped, his mouth making an exaggerated O shape. “Naomi! You are talking so dirty. I like you.” He nuzzled my hair and tried to kiss me.
I grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs.
True to his word, Trevor did have wine in his room. And beer. And scotch.
I didn't want to be stone-cold sober while he was having so much fun, so I poured a few glugs of scotch into a glass and tossed it back. And then again.
The scotch in my stomach radiated with warmth, filling me with golden light. I was starting to like scotch.
Trevor lay back on his bed, spread-eagle. “Come sit on me,” he said. “Sit anywhere.”
I poured some wine from the open bottle into a glass—his dresser had been turned into a makeshift bar, complete with an ice bucket, and some chips and pretzels—and had a sip.
Within a few minutes, I had a nice buzz, and Trevor's drunken actions weren't as comical, but seemed sweet and funny.
He stared, wide-eyed, as I stripped for him, peeling off my sweatpants, T-shirt, and sports bra as though they were made of silk and sequins.
“Damn,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers up and down my spine.
I climbed onto his four-poster bed from the bottom, and I remembered that thing he'd wanted me to do.
I turned around, showing him my ass, which he began to gratefully squeeze.
His feet were clean and smelled good, and the idea of making him moan sent more shivers through me. I deliberately ran my tongue along the top of his foot, through the dark curls, and then sucked the tip of his toe. He squirmed with pleasure underneath me.
“Damn.”
I sucked the toe harder, taking it all into my mouth. I was on my hands and knees, facing his feet, and at the same time, he moved one of his hands off my ass cheek and dragged a finger down my aching crease, through my opening and then under, to my clit. He was a little rough and clumsy, due to the drinks, but it was exactly what I was in the mood for.
He stroked away, moaning and squirming under me, and I sucked his toe like it was a cock.
After a few minutes, he roughly grabbed me by the legs and yanked me back. His toes (I was sucking several at a time) popped out of my mouth as he pulled my wet pu**y up to his mouth. His tongue was hot, compared to his fingers, and the pressure was softer, but so good, and driving me crazy.
I'd been so focused on him that I'd barely noticed I was close to the edge, riding near the point of cl**ax.
His eager c**k was now directly under my face. I didn't waste any time licking around the head or teasing him. I just popped him in my mouth and started to suck, using one hand wrapped around the base to assist.
He moaned into my pu**y and began to pulse my entire body back and forth, setting my rhythm.
It felt so good to have him in my mouth while he was licking my clit, so good, but that wasn't what I'd come over for.
I slowly dragged him out of my mouth and pulled myself out of his grasp. I turned around, threw my leg over his broad chest, and started to settle down on top of him, guiding his member into my opening.