The After Party

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A follow-up to my other story The Birthday Party. It's not so much a stand-alone thing, but rather a continuation. I am obsessed these days with a certain sort of gentleness and desire that does not exist in my life, so I pour it into these stories. I feel deeply self-conscious about it and it takes deep reserves of bravery to share these things.

Submitted: June 19, 2019

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Submitted: June 19, 2019

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I wake up because he’s shaking, realize groggily that he’s crying.

 

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask gently, lifting my head to look at him.

 

“Fuck,” he says, covering his face with his hands as he turns away from me. “Goddamn it, I can’t fucking believe I woke you up.”

 

He starts to get out of bed and instinctively I lunge for him, grab him by the wrist just as he’s starting to stand.

 

“No, please, Val, don’t. Don’t go, it’s okay.”

 

“This is so fucking humiliating,” he says, pulling his hand away to wipe his face, looking toward the door though he stays rooted in place.

 

“Come back, baby, lie down with me.”

 

“I can’t do this, Mara.”

 

I get up on my knees and walk to the edge of the bed, reach out for him, take him by the arm.

 

“Please don’t go.”

 

He starts crying harder as he turns, grabbing onto me desperately, wrapping me tightly in his arms.

 

“You can’t leave this way, you’ll break my heart,” I whisper into his ear as I stroke his hair, his back.

 

Then he kisses me passionately, lays me down on the bed, nose snouting out my neck. I clutch at him madly, moaning, my hips lifting up into his as he stiffens against my thigh.

 

“Can I?” he asks, pressing into me.
 

“Yes,” I answer, my hands struggling to be everywhere at once.

 

Then he’s inside me, making me gasp as he fills me up.

 

I lift my legs to hook them over his shoulders, take him in deeper, and he looks down into my eyes, his face puffy and wet. I reach up to stroke his cheek as he fucks me vigorously, the spark between us causing my teeth to chatter – only ever happens when I’m so overwhelmed I can’t bear it and my body has to transmute that crushing intensity into something frantic, involuntary.

 

“Your teeth are chattering,” he says. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, just… overwhelmed.”

 

“Should I stop?” he asks, already slowing down, hesitant.

 

“No, please,” I beg, grasping at him, “Don’t. It’s good. It’s amazing. I just… wasn’t expecting this.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What it feels like. Being with you.”

 

He lets my legs down, looks at me, stroking my hair back from my face with his thumbs.

 

“What does it feel like?” he whispers.

 

“I can’t… I don’t know how to explain it. Just this… it’s like… spiritual or something. Maybe. I don’t know, that sounds so stupid, nevermind,” I say, looking away.

 

“You really feel that way? About this? About me?” he asks.

 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

 

He starts kissing my neck, moving inside me. I hug him tightly as he fucks me, slow and deep, pulling out enough each time to find my g-spot, suffusing me with an illuminating pleasure. I moan ceaselessly, gasping, panting, whimpering as I bite his shoulder, his neck.

 

He hickeys the flesh of mine as my fingers turn to claws, moaning into my ear; a heavenly sound, spurs a stirring of the honey within me as I am overtaken by a sudden orgasm, his name on my tongue, hips bucking up into him.

 

My legs won’t stop shaking and he reaches down, strokes the length of my thigh, grips my flesh then looks at me, staring me down as I wriggle beneath him, struggling not to look away, close my eyes, anything to escape the intensity of his gaze.

 

He keeps going, faster now, reaching up to fondle my breast, pinch my nipple, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly when I cry out, makes me blush and glance away, though my eyes find their way back to his quickly, as if magnetized.

 

We stay rooted into one another in this way until he comes, a groan rising up from deep within him as he does. He presses his forehead to mine as he convulses against me, gasping.

 

“I meant what I said before, Mara,” he murmurs just before he kisses me softly, tonguelessly, on the mouth.

 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I say again, reaching up to stroke his hair back from his face.

 

He turns his head to kiss my palm, nuzzles against it as he looks down at me.

 

“What happened?” he asks.

 

I push against him, say, “Let me up, baby, I’m so hot.”

 

He rolls off of me to lie on his back and again I tuck myself beneath his arm, rest my head on his sweaty chest.

 

“What happened, Mara?” he asks again, running his fingers through my hair.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

 

“Oh,” he says, flat, his hand dropping.

 

“I’m sorry, that’s not-- I didn’t mean-- Fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know,” I sigh, rolling over to stare up at the ceiling as well, trying not to cry.

 

“I’m just gonna have to live with this, aren’t I?” he asks, his voice gone dead, hopeless.

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“Then what are you saying? How could this possibly work out? You’re not going to leave him, I know you’re not.”

 

“He started this, he has to be willing to deal with the fallout.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means… what it means.”

 

“You gotta give me more than that, Mar.”

 

“I have to talk to him. I can’t do this. I can’t…” I look up at him. “I don’t think I can stop.”

 

“Really?” he asks, voice quivering.

 

I nod, kiss his chest.

 

“What are you going to say to him?”

 

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll find out when I say it.”

 

“Shouldn’t you have some idea what you’re going to say?”

 

“Maybe. But I don’t.”

 

I cover his chest with kisses then sit up, turn to rest my chin on my shoulder as I smile at him then take his hand in mine, kiss the back of it.

 

“You’re not gonna do it now are you?” he asks, his grip tightening.

 

“Yes. I am.”

 

I start to stand and he sits up, frantically grabs at me, tells me to stop.

 

“Don’t, wait, please.”

 

“What? What’s wrong? I thought you’d be glad I want to talk to him now.”

 

“Why?”

 

“So we can figure out what happens next.”
 

“What happens next is you let me down easy. I’d rather at least have the entire night with you first.”

 

“That’s not how this is gonna go, baby.”

 

His eyes fill with tears and he brings my hand to his mouth, cups my palm to his cheek, doesn’t say anything.

 

“Don’t worry,” I say, leaning in to kiss his forehead, my hand against the back of his head, pulling him close.

 

I start to turn away but he grabs onto me, lays me back down before I can stop him, immediately going for my neck, murmurs, “I need to taste you again,” into my ear.

 

I moan in response and he takes it as a cue, starts kissing his way down my body, pausing to grab onto my stomach with both hands, kissing me there, lingering.

 

“You’re so fucking soft,” he says, looking up to find me watching him.

 

“I know.”

 

He smiles then hooks his arms around my thighs, buries his face in my pubic hair and inhales deeply, adds, “And you smell so goddamn good.”

 

“So do you.”

 

He shakes his head no then runs the tip of his tongue up the seam of me, dipping it in just enough to lightly brush my clit then nuzzles it with his nose. I whimper, bury a hand in his hair as he gently spreads me open, staring at me so long I grow uncomfortable, say, “Stop looking at me like that.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Just… stop looking at me and make me come.”

 

He licks me once, then massages me with his tongue, his hands gripping my hips, then my stomach, my breasts, pinching my nipples as he sucks my clit into his mouth.

 

“Put your fingers inside me,” I pant, taking his hand from my breast so I can lace our fingers together, squeezing it tightly as he sticks two fingers inside me, starts pumping them in and out languidly as his tongue grows frantic, makes me come so fast it embarrasses me.

 

He pauses to look up at me, says, “You’re working wonders for my self-esteem, you know.”

 

“Good,” I say, breathing heavy, lifting my head to kiss his hand. “Because this doesn’t happen to me with just anyone.”

 

“Does it happen with him?”

 

“Not always.”

 

He starts kissing my thigh then, sucking my flesh into his mouth again and again. I squirm beneath him, beg him to keep going.

 

A deep mmm sound rises from his throat and he presses his whole face into me, sticks his tongue inside me for a moment before returning his attention to my clit, circling it with his the tip of his tongue until I’m shaking, pleading, pulling his hair, squeezing his hand so tight I’ll find later that I left little half-moon stab wounds there.

 

He makes me come three more times before he stops, kisses his way up my body, taking his time now, grabbing onto me by the handful, burying his face in my fleshy stomach, moaning. Then he takes my breasts in his hands, lays kisses in the center of my chest as he presses them to his cheeks, thumbing my nipples.

 

By the time he makes his way back to my neck, I’m squirming again, tugging at him, saying, “Fuck me, Val, please, please, I need you to.”

 

He slips into me slowly, lays still again rather than immediately starting to fuck me, lifting his head to look me in the eyes.

 

“I love you,” he says. “I’m so in love with you, Mara.”

 

“You barely know me, Val.”

 

“That’s not true. You share so much of yourself in the things you write, and I read all of it. And there were those emails a while back, remember? We shared a lot in those emails. I mean… didn’t we?”

 

I nod, but don’t say anything.

 

“It’s okay that you don’t love me too, Mar, it really is. Just please don’t lie there and try to tell me what I feel.”

 

Tears gloss my eyes and I look away. He returns his attention to my neck, starts moving inside me, honeyslow, so gentle, but I’m too emotionally overwhelmed to bear it so I say, “I want you to fuck me.”

 

“Not yet,” he murmurs.

 

“Val, please, this is too much, I can’t handle it.”

 

“Shh.”

 

I start crying then, shaking against him, but he doesn’t stop, just kisses my cheek, my mouth.

 

“It’s okay,” he says.

 

“Please,” I whisper.

 

“It’s okay, Mara.”

 

“It’s not. It’s too much, I can’t handle this. Please just… just…” I sputter.

 

He kisses my eyelid, salting his lips with my tears.

 

“I really need you to just fuck the shit out of me, Val, okay, please.”

 

He stares into me for a long moment then starts to fuck me harder, faster, bites my neck, my earlobe, quickly working up to a furious pace, soon has to stop and grab me by the hips and yank me down the bed to stop my head from slamming into the headboard.

 

I come again, my being flooding with a sparking euphoria; dizzying, sends a sudden heat exploding from the center of me. Sometimes an orgasm will come on so strong it actually hurts, a pulsating throb radiating outward, bringing with it an emotional overwhelm that starts me crying harder.

 

“I’m okay,” I say hastily, before he can even ask, “Don’t stop.”

 

So he starts fucking me harder, faster, a furious pace, making me recall Henry’s statement about his runner’s stamina as I claw his back.

 

I come again, then again, panting, “I can’t take any more, please, you have to come, Val, seriously I can’t, it’s too much.”

 

“Oh God,” he moans, his open mouth pressed against my neck as he gasps.

 

“Val, please…”

 

Then he explodes inside me, comes so hard I can feel it filling me up to overflowing as his weight drops heavy onto my body.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers.

 

“Get up, baby, I’m too hot.”

 

He rolls off of me and we lie there in silence for a while, the only sound our deep, rapid inhalations.

 

When I’ve come down enough to function, I turn onto my side, start covering his sweaty chest with kisses.

 

“I have to go talk to Henry now,” I say in between them.

 

“No, Mar, please, don’t go.”

 

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

 

I sit up and he does too, catches me by the wrist as I’m standing, begs me not to go.

 

“Don’t worry, baby,” I say, kissing the back of his hand.

 

Then I stand up, pick up a long black satin robe laying across the chair by the bed and put it on, tie the belt.

 

“You wait here,” I tell him, then quickly unlock the door and pass through it, closing it behind me before he can say anything else.

 

 

 

 

“You want to keep the new puppy, don’t you baby?” Henry asks when he sees me, then laughs at the way I stop in my tracks, face frozen in shock.

 

“Told ya I thought it through,” he says, standing up to take me in his arms, kissing my neck, nudging his nose against the sensitive spot behind my ear.

 

“How’d you even know?”

 

“I dunno, just a chemistry between the two of you. That and the way he looks at you, I mean Jesus. Anyway, you’re a fuckin handful. I don’t mind sharing.”

 

“You’re serious?” I ask, pulling away to look into his eyes, sparkling the way they do when he’s particularly proud of himself.

 

“I am.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Mhm,” he murmurs into my ear, walking us backwards to sit back down on the couch, tugging me down on top of him as he does.

 

I straddle him, study his face; pleasant and beaming, not a trace of jealousy or doubt.

 

“I need to go tell him then, he’s so worried.”

 

“Not yet,” he answers, fully hard already, makes me laugh when he tries to guide me down onto it.

 

“I’m fuckin exhausted, Henry.”

 

He laughs, says, “When has that ever stopped you?”

 

“Seriously, he just wore me the fuck out.”

 

“At least let me put it inside you for a minute. Listening to the two of you got me so fuckin hard. I need to fuck you. I’ll be fast if you want.”

 

I sigh, run my hands through his hair, give him a dubious look.

 

“I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

 

“You gotta do all the work though,” I say, smiling as I climb off of him to lie down on the couch.

 

He smiles back as he shifts, lies down on top of me, moving my robe out of the way, rock hard as he slides into me.

 

“Squeeze me with your muscles, I’ll come faster.”

 

I start to rhythmically clench around him as he starts fucking me at a quick but bearable clip, knowing by now as he does just how to do it when I’m overfucked and too-sensitive.

 

“Tell me how he fucked you,” he pants into my ear.

 

“That runner’s stamina you spoke of? That shit’s no joke.”

 

He laughs, asks, “You like that, huh?”

 

“Jesus Christ, it’s unreal.”

 

“Did you let him come inside you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He moans, says, “He gave you a hickey,” then immediately gives me another one on the other side.

 

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” I joke, running my hands up and down the soft sinews of his back.

 

He laughs, asks, “What the hell was going on at your high school?”

 

“The football team was quite fond of me.”

 

He stops, gives me a wide-eyed look that makes me laugh.

 

“I’m kidding! I was the biggest fucking virgin in high school.”

 

“No way. Sexpot like you? I can’t believe it.”

 

“I was. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was nineteen.”

 

“What? How did I not know this?”

 

“I dunno, you never asked, it never came up.”

 

“I thought you told me you were like… six when you started having those intense sexual cravings of yours?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Then how in the fuck were you a virgin until you were nineteen?”

 

“No one wanted to fuck me! I told you, I was fat. And a loner. And a weirdo. A fat loner weirdo who was always scribbling in notebooks and writing ten page letters to the boys she liked. I was hopeless.”

 

“Wow,” he says, dipping his head down to tease the spot behind my ear with the tip of his tongue, making me squirm. “That is… shocking.”

 

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

 

He chuckles softly, says, “No kidding.”

 

Then he starts fucking me again, having been stilled by his shock, looks me in the eyes when he asks, “What’s it like, being fucked by two different guys in the span of ten minutes?”

 

I blush, glance away.

 

“Tell me,” he says firmly, that commanding way that always sends a jolt through me.

 

I look back at him, answer, “It’s… thrilling. I love it.”

 

He smiles a wicked smile, says, “I knew you would.”

 

“I can’t believe you want to do this, you’re so territorial.”

 

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird. But it turns me on. A lot. And anyway, I want him to have this. You. He’s so stupid in love with you it breaks my heart.”

 

“How did I not know this?”

 

“You’re on another wavelength, that’s what I love about you – you’re fuckin oblivious in the real world because you’re always off on some other plane altogether.”

 

“I um… I really… like him.”

 

“Yeah, no shit.”

 

“I mean, like… a lot. It came out of nowhere and it’s kinda freaking me out. I mean, I always liked him just, you know… as a person, and I even had a little crush on him, but… I dunno, this – what I’m feeling now… it’s all so unexpected.”

 

“See? Oblivious.”

 

“Yeah, but I mean… it’s one thing to be oblivious to someone else’s feelings. Being oblivious to my own doesn’t happen to me very often.”

 

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, baby.”

 

“You’re really okay with this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does this mean you’re gonna want to go out and fuck another girl?”

 

“Nah, I’m good.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Because I can’t deal with that, Henry. I know it’s not fair or whatever, but I can’t.”

 

“I know you can’t.”

 

“I mean it.”

 

“I know,” he says into my neck as he starts to fuck me again, kissing me ceaselessly, his hand coming down to play with my nipple, makes me moan.

 

“I really need to go tell him, he didn’t believe me when I told him it’d be okay.”

 

“Just give me a few minutes, baby. You’ve got me so worked up it won’t take long, I promise you.”

 

I giggle, ask, “Is that so?”

 

“Mm.”

 

He adjusts the angle of his hips, the depth of his thrust, massaging my g-spot with the head of his cock, says, “I want to make you come first.”

 

“You really don’t have to, I’m good.”

 

He laughs, says, “Yeah but you should know by now how much it gets me off to get you off.”

 

“He wore me out, honey, it’d take a while. And anyway, I’m way too worried about his sad, sweet heart, I won’t be able to focus.”

 

He sighs, says, “Fine, I’ll let you off the hook just this once,” making me laugh.

 

Then he starts fucking me deeper, faster, comes quickly, gasping, “Oh fuck” into my ear.

 

He starts to work his way down my body moments later, stops me when I start to speak.

 

“I just want to taste you real quick, then I’ll let you go.”

 

He sticks his tongue inside me immediately then licks me a little, kissing and biting the inside of my thigh when he’s done. When I stand, he does as well, catching me in his arms, leaning down to murmur, “You taste different after he’s fucked you.”

 

“Good different?”

 

“Mm.”

 

Reluctantly, he lets me go, asks, “You wanna spend the night with him, don’t you?”

 

“Is that okay?”

 

“Sure. I’m not gonna be making a habit out of giving up the bed though, just so you know.”

 

I laugh, say, “I know,” then stand up on my toes so I can kiss his neck, make my way down his collarbone to his chest, struggling to pull myself away from him, though finally I do, tell him I love him just before I turn, walk back to the bedroom.

 

 

 

“Hi,” I say when I come in, swiftly crossing the space between us to climb back into bed with him.

 

He’s sitting up with his back against the headboard, propped up with a few pillows, looks stricken when he says hi back.

 

“It’s okay, Val. I told you it would be.”

 

“What does ‘okay’ even mean in a situation like this?”

 

I settle down beside him, take his hand in mine, kiss it twice, nuzzle against it.

 

“He wants us to be together.”

 

“What?”

 

“He wants us to be together,” I say again, turning to look at him now.

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“I…” he starts, trailing off, redirecting his attention to stare at our intertwined fingers, studying them briefly before kissing the back of mine as I did his.

 

His eyes fill with tears then and he turns away but I climb on top of him, my crotch pressing into his as I take his head in my hands, make him look at me.

 

He runs his hands over my ass, squeezing it, pulling me closer, his eyes trained on my breasts.

 

“Look at me,” I say, running my fingers through his hair.

 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispers, glancing up at me briefly before looking away again.

 

“Me neither.”

 

“You really want me like that?”

 

“I do. Very much.”

 

I tuck a finger beneath his chin, tilt it up slightly, trying to make him look me in the eyes. He glances up again, then away, then back again, his bottom lip trembling as he blinks back tears. I kiss him tenderly, my tongue snaking into his mouth, his hands coming up to roam my back, sliding smooth over the satin of my robe.

 

“Did you have sex with him out there?” he asks, pulling away.

 

I nod.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Does that upset you?”

 

“I um… I don’t know.”

 

“Do you think you can find a way to be okay with it being like this?”

 

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

 

I sigh, push his hair back from his forehead, kiss him there.

 

“Don’t worry, baby. You have me, completely. After just one night, you have me completely. But he does too.”

 

“How does that even work? How can two different people have you completely?”

 

“I’m a complex creature; I can’t explain how I work, just what I feel. There’s no need to feel jealous or threatened, really. I have more than enough love for the both of you.”

 

“Love?” he whispers.

 

“Yes. Love.”

 

His hands come up to gently cup my breasts, his eyes trained on their curves and the shadowed valley between them as he massages them, thumbs my nipples, a sublime sensation through the satin.

 

“Mm, that feels so good.”

 

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up at me.

 

“You always do that… you always make me repeat everything – you never believe me the first time.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

I laugh softly, say, “You always do that too… you apologize when there’s nothing to apologize for.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, eyes trained on his thumbs circling, circling, my hips rolling into him involuntarily, delicate, kitteny moans whispering through my lips.

 

“God, that feels so good,” I say again, leaning in to kiss his neck.

 

Slowly, he grows hard between us, hands coming down to grip my ass, pull me closer.

 

I resist when he tries to fuck me, instead saying, “I want to go down on you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

I giggle, climb off of him, tell him to lie down. After he does, I scoot down and lie alongside him, start lavishing his cock with sloppy kisses, long licks, pausing to swirl my tongue around the head before I take him in my mouth, down my throat.

 

I press my nose into his pubic hair, a hungry moan strangling in my throat, vibrating his flesh. He inhales sharply, murmurs, “Oh my God,” as his hand falls on the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair.

 

I refocus my attention on the head of his cock, stroking the shaft with one hand, the other resting on his stomach so I can feel his quickening breath. I switch back and forth, massaging his balls when he’s down my throat, pausing briefly to lick and suck them.

 

Then I nudge his thigh, make him spread his legs a little, working my hand, wet with my spit, underneath him. I grip his ass, lingering there, giving him time to stop me before I stick my finger inside him. When I do, a guttural moan rises up from within him as I begin to stroke his prostate, his hand turning to a fist in my hair.

 

I pair my stroke with the rise and fall of my head, get lost in that sacred rhythm, spend the next twenty minutes working him up to an orgasm that makes him cry out loudly, practically yelling, sets his whole body shaking.

 

He calls out first for God, then for me, sounds all the more reverent when he says my name than the name of God, a pleasure suffusing me unlike any other, awash in benevolent power, always makes me so high to get a man off this way.

 

I withdraw my finger slowly, find that he’s still panting and staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling when I come back from washing my hands in the bathroom. I lift his limp arm and lay down beside him, throw a leg across his legs, stroking his stomach, his chest, kissing him there again and again.

 

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” he says after a while.

 

“No?”

 

“No.”

 

“Mm, I like that. Uncharted territory.”

 

“I’ve never felt anything like that.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that it’s an otherworldly sorta thing.”

 

“Completely.”

 

“Are you tired?”

 

“Exhausted. You?”

 

“God yes.”

 

He hugs me to him, stroking my arm, kissing the crown of my head, asks, “You’re going to stay with me tonight, right?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Hey, so um… happy birthday,” I say, playfully sultry.

 

He laughs for the first time since I showed up then sighs, says, “Thank you.”

 

I sigh as well, contentedly, tension unspooling as I let his breathing lull me to sleep.

 

 


© Copyright 2020 Sara Wolf. All rights reserved.

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