Page 26 of Tito

9

Reggie

Asix-ounce glass of wine is said to be standard. Even so, some establishments serve a five-ounce glass, allowing them to pour five glasses per bottle instead of four. The seafood restaurant we ate at offered what I guessed to be an eight-ounce glass.

The bottom line? I drank an entire bottle of wine. I had no idea how drinking that much would affect for most people, but for me, it was a huge problem. I was what women described as a lightweight, and men described as a cheap date.

I was drunk.

Drunk, and ready to fuck.

Calm on the outside, but mentally frantic to rid Tito of his tight jeans, I fumbled to get the key in the lock. The warm evening air wafted a hint of his cologne into my nostrils.

Instantly gratified beyond measure, my eyes fell closed. My mind drifted to the idea of a night filled with earth-shattering sex. Three sexual positions into my sexual daydream, I lost grip of my keys.

They landed at my feet with a clank!

Tito knelt and picked them up. “Here, let me help you.”

He wedged himself between me and the door and opened it, bringing us one step closer to my goal. I stepped inside and glanced around the living room. In a few nights, half of the furniture I possessed would be burned at a celebratory bonfire. For the time being, however, each piece was a potential platform for sex.

I weighed the benefit of sex in a comfortable bed versus being fucked on one the pieces of living room furniture.

My eyes became fixed on the green pleather couch. It was the single most hated piece of furniture in the entire home. Modeled after the 1950’s original, the Danish-modern lime green piece was hideous, to say the least.

I spun toward Tito, who was standing immediately to my left. The sudden movement caused me to lose my balance. I stumbled—more planned than accidental—hoping that he’d catch me.

He did just as I hoped.

Unlike Jared, Tito’s muscles were hard, like steel. My eyes fluttered momentarily at the feeling of being cradled in his strong arms.

For some women, a one-night-stand is nothing more than a dick fix. One rung up the sexual ladder from masturbating while Selena Gomez’s Good for You plays in the background. A true fuck ‘em and forget ‘em scenario that rarely includes the exchange of phone numbers, and never included the use of a real name—at least not entirely. Kissing and foreplay were prohibited. It was too intimate. Too personal.

I wasn’t one of those women.

By no means was I a slut, but I’d had my share of one-night-stands. In my opinion, nothing was off-limits—nor should it be.

Kissing, hugging and oral sex was welcome. The use of toys, candles, bath bombs, and the preparation of a post-sex meal was a common occurrence.

A quickie caused me to feel like the slut I swore I wasn’t. Having an intimate night filled with kissing, caressing, sex, and a bath allowed me to convince myself it was a perfect date that simply didn’t work out.

Cradled in his arms, I ogled him with drunken eyes. “Kiss me.”

Without argument, he complied.

Be it the wine, bottled-up anticipation, or the kiss itself, I’ll never know. Nevertheless, a tidal wave of emotion rushed through me. My purse fell to the floor. Pawing over every inch of his body, I searched for the right place for my hands to land. Eventually, they came to rest against the taut muscles of his back.

The kiss continued, growing more intimate with each beat of my heart.

If Tito’s ability to kiss was any indication as to what the night held, letting him go would be difficult, if even possible.

At that moment, I had no intention of releasing him. Instead, I’d allow him to use me as he wished, making me his real-life sex doll for what remained of our night together. When he was finished, he’d leave satisfied.

Rubber-legged, I’d stumble to my bed, nestle myself between the 1,800 thread-count sheets, and fall asleep armed with memories I’d later use to tell stories that would cause even a seasoned sexual veteran to gasp.

My body melted into his. He continued to kiss me like it was the last opportunity he’d ever have to do so. Paralyzed by euphoric bliss, my eyes fell closed.

His thick cock throbbing against my hip brought me out of my dream-like state. On the brink of a desire-induced internal inferno, I fumbled to find his belt.