Divorcing Myself from Myself Ch. 03

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Amateur

Note: This story is part of a small volume of stories that I have posted here previously. They will appear with different names as chapters (10 in all). I think these stories stand alone well, but they are meant to be read as part of a larger work entitled “Divorcing Myself From Myself.”

This chapter,
, is called “Dawn.” It was posted here previously as “Sex in the Bar.”

Thank you in advance for checking this out, and I’m looking forward to hearing what you all think.

Jim

Dawn

Early one morning after a long night of drunken lasciviousness, we have a conversation about Dawn. Susie snuggles up against me and curls up even more closely as daybreak brings the first glimmers of dirgy, melancholy, drizzly Seattle light into the room as the clock moves past 7 am. I’ve been awake for about an hour now, for the most part, even though we didn’t get to bed until just a few hours earlier, and my head just pounds. Even with the lack of sleep, it’s keeping me awake, and I’ve been spending the past several minutes comparing and contrasting the five or six hanging chips of paint across the ceiling. “Blue Flower” by Mazzy Star comes on the stereo again, and I realize that the tape deck was left on auto repeat, because I’ve heard this song three or four times already in my various stages of alpha sleep, and the tape is going to keep playing and playing until one of us gets out of bed to shut it off. That isn’t likely given our lack of motivation, but I really don’t mind, because I really like this song. It grows on me each time I hear it, and one line keeps jumping out at me:

Your boots are high-hilled and are shinin’ bright

Aside from the blue hair, piercings, and tattoos, her favorite accouterment is a pair of black boots lying on the floor amidst empty beer bottles next to the stereo which are shiny and spikey heeled, which contribute to her commanding presence more than anything else. But as I roll over and cradle her, I see through the badass exterior to her tender blue eyes as they open for the first time. She stretches and rolls back and kisses me.

“Hey,” her gravely voice manages with a smile. She kisses me long, wet, and deep.

“How do you feel?” I respond.

“Pretty good, I guess,” she says through the remnants of her intoxication.

We settle into a spoon and lie there luxuriously for a moment, meditating in the sounds of traffic splashing through the puddles just outside my bedroom window and people walking quickly through the tiny raindrops on their way to a dry place somewhere.

“It’s raining again,” I say.

“Oh no, my love’s at an end,” she says flatly.

“Huh?”

“Oh no, it’s raining again,” she says through the tiniest of grins.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

She turns around and looks at me and starts laughing. Then I get it.

“Why are you quoting Supertramp?”

“Cause.”

“Cause why?”

“Just cause,” she says as she turns over and buries her face in the pillow.

I wait for the punchline. She turns around and looks at me again, and starts giggling, turning away and putting her face back in the pillow.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you.”

“Maybe,” she says as she rolls back over. “Actually, there’s something I’ve meant to ask you.”

“Okay.”

She sits up and looks down at me, but her face starts to redden, and she starts laughing again.

“What’s so funny?” I ask quizzically. She’s still laughing, and I’m puzzled. She’s usually forthright and unafraid of saying what’s on her mind, but now, she just keeps laughing. Finally, she contains herself and turns back towards me again.

“Okay, there’s something I want to ask you,” she says before taking a deep breath. “What do you think of Dawn?”

“She’s cool. I like her,” I say, matter of factly. Susie starts giggling again. “What? Is that it?” Then after momentarily burying her head under the pillow, she comes out from under and turns towards me one more time. She is trying very hard not to laugh, but as often happens, trying to keep herself from laughing just produces more chortling, yet she continues to labor to overcome it.

“Do you like her?”

“Yes, of course, I like her. Did you think I didn’t?”

“No, of course not. But what I mean is…do you like her? Do you…think she’s cute?”

Now it’s getting a little awkward. Susie and I have been getting together Escort Eryaman and boning for a few weeks, but she’s been with Dawn for nearly three years now, and it’s clear they are madly in love. So when she asks me if I think her girlfriend is cute, I’m feeling like she’s asked me if the dress she’s wearing makes her look fat.

“Uh…yeah, she’s cute. Of course,” I say as diplomatically as possible. Susie’s face reddens again. She’s trying very hard to tell me something, but her head doesn’t want her to. Then, finally, she just says it.

“Would you do her?” She asks, looking relieved.

“Huh?”

“Would you do her? Would you fuck Dawn?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I know, but-“

“So?”

“You’re asking me if I would fuck your girlfriend.”

“Yes, I am. So would you?”

After a moment, I realize following the George Washington example is prudent.

“I cannot tell a lie. Yes, I would.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because…I would love it if you fucked Dawn.” She rolls over and starts laughing yet again.

“Are you shitting me?” She keeps laughing. “C’mon! You’re pulling my leg!”

“No, I’m not. I really would love it if you fucked Dawn. I think it would be so incredibly hot if you fucked Dawn.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I want you to fuck my girlfriend.” I’m flabbergasted and speechless. “We’ve done this with other guys before. Sometimes we have threesomes, other times she goes out on dates.”

“And you want me to go out on a date with her?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Does she want to…go out on a date with me?”

“I’ll ask her.”

“You haven’t asked her?”

“No, I haven’t. I wanted to run this by you first. See what you thought.”

“Why didn’t you ask her first?”

“Because I like to have it all set up with the guy first. That way, I can tell her I want her to have sex with him.”

“You can tell her? You mean you can demand she have sex with a guy. Order her to. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of like it.”

“It’s kind of like a role play, then. Yeah?”

“Yes, it is.”

“It sounds like Dawn has a bit of a submissive streak.”

“She does. I mean, not in an S&M kind of way, but she does like being told what to do.”

“She does?”

“Yeah. She does. She loves it.”

“By anyone?”

“By anyone I say can tell her what to do.”

“So you want me to tell her what to do?”

“Yes.”

“What can I tell her to do?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. Anything. I mean, she won’t pee or poop on you.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Like I said, she’s not into anything weird. But she loves being told what to do. Okay?”

“Okay.”

After a beat, she says, “I’ll tell her, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Good.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you. And then…”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll put something in her.” She laughs at her own joke. I roll my eyes.

A couple of weeks later, we’re all at the Comet – Myself, Susie, Dawn, and a few other folks filling up a long table. We’re all drinking and laughing and carrying on multiple conversations with each other and more than once Dawn catches my eye and smiles and gives me a knowing look. She’s a bit taller than Susie, with pale skin, dark hair, brown eyes, and black frame glasses. She has no tats or piercings, and she wears a long navy blue wrap coat, and a has that same box clutch purse she brought when they were all over at my place drinking before we went to the OK Hotel to see Hammerbox a few weeks back. After some time, I get up to pee, and when I come out of the bathroom, Susie is waiting for me outside the door.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey back.”

“So…Dawn thinks you’re cute.”

That’s all she said. That’s all she needed to say. I smile, nod, and we both go back to the table. Dawn smiles at me again while talking to someone in our party as I sit back down and pour myself another beer.

As I head up the front steps my building, enter, and then head straight down the stairs to my apartment, I have to pee so badly, my back teeth are swimming. So I open the door, and upon entering my, I see the light on the answering machine flashing three times, indicating that I have three messages. So I hit play and run to the bathroom and while I am voiding, I first hear a message from Eryaman Escort MasterCard, wanting to talk to me about my past due account, then one from one of my temp agencies telling me I have work lined up for the following day, and then finally one that goes like this:

“Hi Tim, this is Dawn. I’m just calling to say hi, see what you’re up to. Give me a call when you get a chance. xxx-xxxx…bye!”

I waste no time picking up the phone and calling back. After three rings, she answers.

“Hello?”

“Dawn? Hi, this is Tim.”

“Oh hi! How are you?”

“Just got home from work. You?”

“I’m good. I’m off today. Gonna make some dinner in a bit.”

“Whatcha making?”

“Oh, some leftover lentil soup. Nothing fancy.”

“Sounds good.”

“Eh, like I said, it’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do the job.” There’s a brief pause, and then she says, “So what are you up to tonight?”

“Not much. Just got home from work. My temp agency said they have work for me tomorrow, so that’s good.”

“Well, would you…maybe like to meet up for a drink tonight? I know it’s a school night for you, so it wouldn’t be too late?”

“Sure, sounds good to me. Where do you want to meet up?”

“How about the Deluxe? It’s a bit quieter than the Comet.”

“Sure, that sounds fine. How about we meet around nine?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Cool! Well, I should probably go and see what I can scrape up for dinner myself.”

“Okay. See you later on. Bye!”

“Yep. Bye.”

I head up Olive Way through the drizzly cold Seattle winter evening bluster before I reach Broadway at the top of the hill, and then I turn left and walk to the end of the business district and find the Deluxe on the corner at Roy. I walk inside and see Dawn sitting at a table in the back of the sparsely populated bar, and I go over to join her. She gets up and kisses me on the cheek.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Hope I’m not late.”

“Oh no, you’re fine. It’s pretty cold out there, eh?”

“Yes, it sure is. What are you drinking?”

“Oh, just a red wine,” she replies.

“Alright, I’m gonna get me a beer when the barmaid comes round again,” I say, and soon enough, here she comes, and I order myself a Rainier. The waitress goes off, and I look at Dawn, and she has a big, big smile on her face. There’s a pause.

“So how was your day?” she asks.

“The same. I worked, came home. Now I’m here.”

“Where are you working?”

“At an insurance company downtown. I transcribed claims interviews.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Having money in my pocket is what’s fun. Rainy enough for you?” I ask as I take off my coat and drape it over the chair.

“It can never be rainy enough around here,” she replies. “It’s always really wet. Really, really wet,” she deadpans. After a pause, she smiles. “I hope this isn’t too weird for you-“

“No, no, it isn’t.”

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” she asks.

“Uh…can’t say I have.”

“What did you think when Susie brought up the idea?”

“I was intrigued.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to think. Except -“

“Except what?”

“That…it’s…”

“It’s…?”

I wait a second, then my eyes narrow towards her. “Incredibly hot. What do you think?” I ask. She’s taken aback, but she looks into my eyes and takes a moment..

“I think it’s really hot too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.”

The waitress comes by with my beer and asks Dawn if she wants another. She says she’s okay for now, and the waitress heads back.

“Susie says you two have done this before,” I say as I take my first sip.

“We have.”

“Tell me what’s hot about it.”

“Just thinking about what’s going through Susie’s head when I’m with another guy. What she’s thinking about. What she’s doing.”

“What do you think she’s doing?” I ask. She pauses and then blushes. Much the way Susie did when she broached the idea, but she maintains eye contact and then tilts her head ever so slightly to her right.

“Pleasuring herself.”

“Yeah?”

“You think she pleasures herself thinking about you being with another guy?”

“I know she does.”

“How?”

“I’ve seen her do it when I tell her about it. She wants a full report every time.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Details. All kinds of details.”

“So Eryaman Escort Bayan you’re at home – in the living room, or the bedroom – and she asks how your date with so and so was, and you tell her. Then she starts petting the bunny as you tell her.”

“Especially if I’m detailed.”

“What kind of details do you tell her?”

“Specific ones. Really specific ones.”

“Why don’t you tell me just how specific the details are?”

“Like…” she takes another breath, turns away for a second, and then turns back towards me. “Like if he has a big…penis.”

“How do you define big?”

“By thickness, and whether or not it’s veiny.”

“Veiny?”

“Yeah! I love a thick veiny pe-” She blushes, then she says, “…cock.”

“Interesting. What other kind of details do you share?”

“Like if he’s circumcised…”

“Okay.”

“Like…” she squirms and giggles, “how his cock tastes.”

“Anything else?”

“Like…how his cum tastes.”

“That’s really specific.”

“Yes. It is,” she replies. “And…she wants the guy to be in control,” she says holding her wine glass with both hands before taking a sip.

“Because you like when the guy is in control. You like being told what to do, don’t you.”

“I do.”

“Do you like being with other guys, when Susie tells you to?”

“Yes!”

“Just ‘yes?’ Care to elaborate on the subject?”

She pauses, and then she’s speechless for a moment. She becomes breathy and tries to force something out.

“I…uh -“

“Does this conversation turn you on?” There is no answer. She just looks at me. “It does. Doesn’t it?” Still no answer. “Dawn?” She’s holding back. “Dawn. Hello?” She smiles. Her pupils begin dilating. “Dawn. I asked you a question. I’d appreciate it if you answered me.”

“Y…y…yes it does,” she forces out.

“It does what?”

“It turns me on. It really turns me on,” she confesses.

“Are you getting turned on now?” She blushes and looks around.

“Yes.”

“How turned on?”

“So SO turned on!”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Are you getting wet talking about this?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then why don’t you touch yourself?” She looks around again. “Do it. You know you want to. You’re so hot right now you can’t stand it.”

“I am.”

“Then touch yourself. Go ahead. Touch yourself!” Dawn gasps, and she looks around one more time before her right hand disappears underneath the table. “Look me in the eye. Look me in the eye until I tell you otherwise.”

“Hold on,” she says as her knees gently bump the table as she hikes them up and her left hand disappears, and after a moment, she taps me on the knee and then hands me her wadded up panties. I put them in my coat pocket, and I can see the motion of her hands in her arms. She gasps again. I look around the bar. All of the people are up front, and they aren’t looking this way. Her left hand, probably by instinct, goes up towards her breast, but she pulls it back down. She lets out barely audible gasps, stifling an urge to moan loudly. Her eyes close and then open several times, and her breathing gets heavier.

“That’s it. Keep going. Keep looking at me.”

Then both hands go down under the table between her legs, and she maintains her gaze as she fingers herself faster and faster and faster. At the front of the bar, a few people are engaged in conversation or watching the TV, completely oblivious to what’s happening at our table in the back.

“I’m close,” Dawn says, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Good. Keep going,” I tell her. “Keep going until you cum.”

“You want me to cum?” she asks.

‘Yes. I want to watch you cum. And keep looking at me.”

She keeps going faster and her breathing becomes rapid, then hushed, as she tries her level best to stifle moans and cries of ecstasy and sweat begins to bead up on her forehead. Finally, her eyes bug out briefly, and she lets out several barely stifled gasps from her mouth as she falls back into her seat, catching her breath.

“That was amazing,” she says.

“Yes, it was. That was outstanding.” She continues to catch her breath. “So what do you want to do now?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Ask me.”

“I want you to come back to my place and fuck the shit out of me. Please.”

“I bet you do. But finish your wine first.” She drains the rest of her glass. I throw back the remainder of the beer and motion for the waitress to bring our check. She does, and I look it over before opening up my wallet and throwing some cash on the table.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

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