Brief Encounters. Various
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Suzanna, you first?’
He was stepping out of his shorts now, openly stroking his cock. She could make out a glistening drop of liquid on its tip.
She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Her cunt had never experienced cock before. Not that it was virgin cunt. Not by any stretch. She and Melanie had experimented – first with fingers, fists, hairbrush handles, and finally with a vibrator.
Her cunt was ready to take anything.
‘Go, girl.’ Melanie sounded encouraging, and was now kneeling beside her, pulling the sheet down, massaging her nipples, making long, warm strokes down her body, widening her thighs, tangling her fingers in her pubic hair, tugging it. Preparing her.
‘Suck him first, he likes that.’
‘Don’t all men?’
So, once Jake had approached, Suzanna bent her head and licked the drip of come from the tip. Jake inhaled. Then she took his length in her mouth. And improvised. From the sounds he was making she guessed she was kind of getting it right. Cupping his balls, stroking between his thighs, using her hand to enhance the feeling her mouth was bestowing on him.
And he, in return, ground his cock into her mouth, pushing, thrusting.
She thought he must be close.
‘Finish off inside her,’ Melanie demanded, having slipped easily into the role of director.
Suzanna fell back onto the bed. Jake groaned. She suspected he would have liked to do both. Come in her mouth, and fuck her, and Melanie too if he could. But he looked willing enough to enter her, falling to his knees between her thighs.
And Melanie appeared willing to help, parting Suzanna’s lips, helping ease Jake’s cock inside her, giving Suzanna tiny, encouraging kisses, on her breasts, her mouth, her belly.
Suzanna was on fire as Jake hammered into her, burying his cock deep, and her cunt welcomed it, drawing him in. Her clit tingled and tensed, responding to Melanie’s fingers strumming across it.
And then the familiar ripples began, starting in her belly and pulsing downwards. She threw her head back, and let herself go. And he, in return, convulsed into her, his cock pounding now, then slowing as his release was almost complete.
‘Well done, you two,’ said Melanie, smiling, her fingers firmly buried between her own thighs, flicking and circling. ‘I like it when my friends become friends.’
And the afternoon had continued in the same vein. Jake watched Suzanna go down on Melanie, followed by a quick fuck between boyfriend and girlfriend before Melanie rushed off to a lecture.
‘She told me to come up, you know,’ Jake told Suzanna, as she dressed, feeling shy now, alone with him in the room. ‘Promised you to me. I’ve watched you at the window, knew she had her tongue inside you. And she offered you up. On a plate. That girl doesn’t give a shit, you know.’
And that betrayal had ended Suzanna’s brief medical career. Her trust had been broken. She packed her bags and left one afternoon, when Melanie was in lectures.
‘Thanks for nothing, bitch,’ read the note she left behind.
Which was somewhat disingenuous. Because she did have something to thank Melanie for. And Jake too, if she was honest. He was her first taste of cock, after all. They had both contributed towards her burgeoning sexual confidence.
Years later she’d wondered if what Jake had told her had been the truth. Melanie liked playing games, sexual ones, she knew that. But betrayal? That had come as a surprise to Suzanna. Melanie had appeared genuinely astonished when Jake came into the room. And she’d complained about his jealousy in the past. Had said she was thinking of dumping him because of it. Suzanna wondered if, rather than betraying her, she had indeed merely been sexually opportunistic on Jake’s arrival. Getting off on the thrill of it all. As Suzanna had too.
But this didn’t occur to her at the time; she was too young, too naïve to see through Jake. She left university and the UK, travelling first to Paris, then further afield. Singapore, Sydney. Meeting people, and fucking them. Like a sailor, she had a man or a woman in each port. And that was how she made up for the lack of love in her life – by fucking strangers. Living from a suitcase; ever transient. She was self-aware enough to realise what she was doing. For her, fucking became love, in its many and various forms. For now, she wanted to remain remote from the entanglement of emotions you felt when someone drew you in, then spat you out. She was no way ready for that, not now, probably never.
And she transformed herself into Suzanna Parker, Sales Rep for a pharmaceutical company, which gave her ample opportunity to fulfil those needs.
She’d always committed to long-haul flights, but never long-haul relationships.
So, when she hadn’t known how to reply to his ‘See you again?’, it had thrown her. She’d always been so nonchalant before. This time she’d been made to hesitate, almost thrown off course. Because, for the first time since Melanie, she had wanted to see someone again. Not just happen across him by accident. But actively seek him out. And fuck him senseless. Like they had done last night. More than once. And maybe even get to know him. This was anathema to her.
It had all started on the plane, like it so often did. They were in business class, seated next to one another, sipping champagne, on their way to Hong Kong. They’d started chatting, and it soon transpired they were both delegates at the 25th International Congress on Men’s Health. They were staying in neighbouring five-star hotels. Suzanna was a good sales rep; she demanded the best of her company.
‘Hey, that’s a stroke of luck,’ he said, as they compared notes. Turned out he was giving a keynote speech. Mr Jones, no mere Dr, was an expert in his field. An Australian doctor living in the UK.
‘But give me a woman, and then I’m fucked,’ he said with a smile. Give me a woman, and quite often I’m fucked too, thought Suzanna.
She glanced over at him. Was he her type? Did she have a type? Not really. He looked less like a doctor than some. Dark wavy hair reached his shoulders. He wore a sports jacket, shirt, no tie. Informal. Suzanna liked informal. But then Suzanna liked men. Was he even a doctor? – many had lied before, as she had too. But this time she’d been truthful. There was something about him that suggested sincerity, a friendliness in the tone of his voice, an openness replacing the arrogance she often encountered.
She smiled, inviting a smile in return. Most of all he looked nice. And sometimes nice was good. Sometimes nice relished the thought of getting down and dirty. Nice men were often far less practised at the art of transient fucking, and were keen, willing to please. Suzanna could do nice.
So, an hour or so later, she was more than pleasantly surprised to find that nice was doing her. Once the meals had been cleared away, the lights dimmed, the seats transformed into something approaching a bed, Mr Jones, Simon, was reaching over, his hand working its way under her blanket, and stroking her thigh.
She wondered if he was asleep, dreaming, thinking of his wife or lover.
It didn’t matter. She could be that person.
She turned her body to him, her eyes hidden behind the mask. His touch was feather-light. She guessed he was a surgeon, although he hadn’t confessed his speciality. She parted her thighs, and his fingers worked their way under the hem of her skirt, pushing it upwards. And then they stopped. Fuck. He wasn’t some kind of surgical control freak, was he? A doctor with issues, meaning he couldn’t identify with a highly sexual woman? That would be one major turn-off. Because, although she had imposed limits on her sex life, telling herself it was just about the physical satisfaction, she didn’t want to be a patient. She felt desire but she didn’t expose her soul.
No doubt a psychiatrist would have a field day with her life story. She steered well clear of them.
But apparently, having reached the tops of her stockings, he was merely waiting for the flight attendant to pass before he continued. His fingers were inches away now from her bare