Friends with Benefits

The first time I fucked a friend who I had zero romantic (or sexual, for that matter!) interest in was on New Year’s Eve, 2002.  I don’t remember why we left the party and went back to his place; likely we were outside smoking together and he said he needed to get something, so I opted to go with him.  We were both drunk, but not too drunk – just drunk enough to be warm and aroused. The night was still young – not quite midnight.

We went into his bedroom to get whatever it was he needed to get, and then… honestly, I don’t remember what happened next.  I remember we were kissing, and he was smiling, and then we were in the shower, and then we were wet and fucking on his bed.  I remember discarding a condom wrapper on the floor and laughing about how no one was missing us.  I remember how nice it felt to be intimate and sexual with someone without any expectation that it would happen again but also with care for each other’s feelings and pleasure because we’d known each other for years; how I didn’t worry that it would affect our friendship.  I didn’t think about where it would go or what I should do to make him happy, because I just wanted it to be what it was in the moment – an authentic connection, a mutually-enjoyed sensual experience.  Every time I saw him afterward, we would share a secret smile that said, “Thanks – that was lovely.”      

I’ve been thinking about this lately because I recently opened up a couple of friendships into sexual relationships, and both have been truly amazing.  I’ve always been strict about compartmentalizing my life; I suppose I still am in some ways.  But I refused to mix friendship and fucking because I was always afraid of hurt feelings.  Now that I’ve had my heart broken a couple of times in the past few years (and I mean really fucking broken), I’m not so afraid anymore.  I’m still here.  These broken hearts have improved my communication skills and opened my heart and body to new ways of experiencing love, friendship, and intimacy.  I definitely don’t want to fuck most of my friends, but when I do, it feels like a safe space in which to explore, to feel sexy, and to be cared for without so much on the line. 

Also, one of these new friends with benefits is a service sub, and how can you say no to that?

A Winter Tale

It was one in the morning when Heather – beautiful Heather with the high cheekbones, toned arms, and loosely-flowing honey-colored hair – grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the pub and into the building’s lobby, an entrance to said pub and a music venue next door.  A place that hundreds of people walk through every weekend.  She casually leaned against the wooden paneling on the wall and pulled me in toward her; I was shocked and thrilled and confused (did I mention she was also straight Heather?) and my heart stopped beating momentarily.  She brushed her lips against mine, still holding my hand, which she then slid into her panties.  I moved my fingers down through the slippery folds of her labia, holding my breath, wondering if this was really happening.  I gently pushed my hand further into her panties, sliding my two middle fingers into her while rubbing her clit with the heel of my hand; she moaned softly and closed her eyes, letting her body relax.  For a minute.  Then she swiftly undid the buttons on her pants and gave me a sultry look; it took me zero seconds to get on my knees and slide her turquoise panties to the side so I could run my tongue from her fourchette up to and over her clitoris and then back down again, eagerly tasting her.  I spread her labia with my fingers and pressed my lips to hers, gently sucking her clit before licking her again.  I felt her hips tense up and move ever so slightly as she placed one hand on my head, caressing my hair.  She tasted sweet and sour and wonderful, and I let her juices stick to my lips, completely oblivious to the fact that we were in a seriously public, well-lit place.  She wasn’t quite as oblivious; as quickly as it started, it was over; she was tapping my shoulder, telling me we should get back inside before someone caught us.  I looked up at her and smiled from the cold floor, tracing my fingers up her vulva as I stood.  Okay, I said, wolfishly licking my lips.  We walked back into the bar as normally as we would have had we just gone for a smoke, sat down with our friends, ordered a shot, and continued talking.  She never brought it up again – in fact, I only ever saw her once again – but it was a lovely shared moment on a winter evening long ago.            

And I leave you with that, internet friends.  I’m heading to warmer climes on Friday morning and will return in March!  Wish me luck on getting some travel booty; I haven’t had sex in SO LONG (okay, it’s only been a month, but it feels like forever). 

Stay warm, everyone!