Alex's First Adventure

Originally -- Hunger Calls, My Feet Follow Parts 1 & 2




Earlier, I had gotten comfortable. I had slipped out of my work clothes, putting on a pair of faded jeans and just a tee shirt. It is late now. My husband is sleeping in our bedroom. I stand in the kitchen, one hand holding open the refrigerator door. Yellow light spills from the fridge cutting a slice out of the darkness.

We do not normally drink, so there is not much to choose from. A dusty bottle of Vodka and some pineapple juice is the best I can do. Let him sleep alone. I'm getting drunk!

The first drinks are too weak; they only seem to make me madder. "Get a dog Alex!" I can't believe he told me that. I could choose not to be mad. We all make choices. Life deals us a hand, and we choose how to play it. Tonight, I fold, fixing another drink. The sound of the ice cubes sliding into the glass has a music of its own. The small cans of juice have the taste of tin. The vodka is bitter with a hint of vanilla -- I double the Absolut.

How many will it take to make my eyes heavy? The next two doubles only make me weary. There is warmth back in the bedroom bed. My heart is cold and sagging, so I pour me another.

I will drink tonight until the couch invites my heavy head to lie, and then the TV can fill the emptiness, chasing away the silence. A fourth Double and the silence is haunting. Why is it that silence is never quiet? A fan whines, the air-conditioning hums. A siren screams in the night. Somewhere water drips and a clock clicks.

Against the sides of my glass, ice dances in the translucent yellow double vodka. Twenty paces from not being alone. He sleeps there. Twenty paces from the next argument. There is nothing left to fight about. Our arguments are so old; even we can’t get the facts straight. History is what we remember differently; the future is written from that. I drink to forget yesterday, so I can dream of tomorrow. Married six years. Too busy to have kids. Not enough money. Too far from family... I pour another drink.

Maybe a walk will settle me down. The soft glow of the streetlights bathes the grass in dark green with patches of black between the spacing of the lights down the street. The neighborhood is quiet. It is a good street and in each house sleeps those who do not know I walk past them. Some, I will see in the morning with a smile and wave. Each of our lives is a secret from the other.

It is only a block to food. Hunger calls and my feet follow. The arches lights up the night. Golden light pools glow across the parking lot, from rain not long gone. The coolness of the neighborhood is left behind; the heat of asphalt replaces soft grass and tall trees.

In the pocket of my jeans, I have only a dollar. My purse is at home on the floor by my door. Still, the menu has room for my forgetfulness. An apple pie or a burger? I cannot choose. The dollar falls from my fingers. A stranger hands it back to me before I can react to its descent.

“You dropped a dollar.”

His smile was youthful, I thought. “Thanks.” Is all I said.

The guy behind the counter waits for my order. He has all night, but there is that boy behind me. “A burger and a water.” I hand him my dollar.

Nothing now to do, but walk back home. Alone. There are people here, still so full of life. Teenagers like the boy who was behind me talking and laughing. Was I that young once? I stay to dwell in their youth. I have nowhere else I want to be.

Sitting down at one of the many empty tables, the paper wrapping the burger rustles as I fold it back. The teenagers laugh together. A tattoo peeks here, a piercing there. They are so different from myself.

The boy, who picked up my dollar, joins his friends. Maybe I was staring, he came over, for some reason. Maybe it was a dare. “Why are you so sad?” he asked.

I did not laugh, but I smiled…a little smile. “Just thinking about the long walk home.” I did not stay to talk to him. What would I say? We lived in different worlds some ten years apart. I left him there to his friends, walking away. Why he followed me, I did not know? It was his reflection in the door as I left that showed him to me.

“You don’t have to walk, I could give you a ride.”

“I am not in a hurry to get home. “ The house is empty. He sleeps soundly, doesn't even notice the emptiness.

“The night is still young. You don’t have to go home.” He said as he walked with me.

He is nervous."The night is nice after the rain. I’m going to enjoy the walk."

“You mind if I walk with you around the corner.” He quickly added, “Just out of sight of my friends. We have a bet. I get $40 if you don’t run me off.” The boy is cute in his innocence.

“It’s a free country, you can walk where you want.” I didn’t stagger, but the drinks had brought numbness to my forehead, and my lips tingled as I placed each step purposely.

We walked in silence, around the corner. “Thanks,” He finally said.

“If you keep walking a little, your friends will see you heading across the street. Those trees ahead will block their view; you’ll have time to think up a tale on the way back.”

He smiled a broad, embarrassed smile. "I wouldn't have asked if I could walk with you, except, I needed the money for Spring break." I didn’t add or say anything, so he went on rambling to fill the awkward silence between us as we walked. “Several of us are going to Cancun. It is my first spring break, since I started college. Last year I had to work and my friends went without me. They came back with stories about how much fun they had, and all I had to show for the week was just enough money for rent…”


“Here,” I interrupted, stopping in the shadow of a large oak tree between two streetlights. "You are out of sight of your friends.” I started walking again, and he still stood there. A boy growing into a man…what innocence he has behind those eyes. Someday I hope I have a son who grows up and keeps his innocence like that.

I was several paces away before he ran to catch up with me. "I didn’t get your name?”

I stopped abruptly and turned. “What story are you going to tell your friends?” I asked casually.

He looked down. "I haven't thought about it... just we talked... or something. You didn't run me off, that's enough. I'm not a good liar, anyway."

“Tell them we talked and you gave me a goodnight kiss.”

“They know me too well. Nah, it’d be fun, but I’d never get away with it. One of ‘em look me in the eye, and they would know.”

What would he do if I really kissed him? How far am I willing go? My palms are sweating. He was just a large step away; stepping forward, I kiss him. He falls back a half step, shocked. I reach out, putting my hands on his shoulders and kiss him again. He stiffens, kissing me back. I can almost feel his breath catch and heart race. Three soft kisses before his mouth parts and he lets his tongue dance across mine. Oh, my god...I can do this.

We pull each other closer until before we nearly press against each other, I push away. Holding my fingers to my lips and I hope he won't say anything to break the spell or my decision. Still holding his hand, I lead him into the yard with the oak tree. Through the wet grass to the back corner where darkness swallows the yard, and a storage building blocks the view of the street.

I put my finger to his lips, kissing him again before he can say anything, this time rising up on tiptoes, pressing against him. I slide my hands down his arms, our arms unwrap, hands touching. We kiss, tongues sliding across each other. My hands continue moving, guiding his to my waist and under my shirt. I shiver as the night air touches my bare skin, warmth from his sweaty palms follows as he slides them up my soft sides; a thumb briefly catches on my belly button, pulling at my desire to have more. I move his strong hands up to my naked breasts until he cups both tightly before roughly moving over and up, thumb and forefinger pinching erect nipples. “I…”

Shaking my head. I don't want him to talk. He stops. I move in closer again pressing up against him. He moves his hands around to my back. Our hands explore each other, his touch new and exciting, his trembling hands making it all the more sensuous. Unbuttoning his shorts causes him to draw in a deep breath. I feel moist wet heat on my hand as I pull him free, I quickly kneel and take the softening cock into my mouth. His hands have no home as he searches for where to put them, finally, he rests them in my hair, fingers entwined in auburn strands. His cum is bitter in my mouth as I roll my tongue around him. I can feel the moist mud seeping into my knees as I work, and my own heat wetting white cotton panties. His cock still in my mouth, I unfasten my own jeans.

His cock hardens as I work down my pants, wiggling to free my hips. My hand returns to his cock, I slide my hand back, his skin tight...I look up for a second at his hungry eyes before letting go and pulling on him as I lay back. Jeans down to my knees and drawn back to my chest, he enters me with one long hard slow push. I come before he finishes the thrust, biting my lip as spasms tighten my stomach gripping his cock with each pulse.

It wasn’t from experience, he didn’t caress me, he didn’t know where I liked to be touched, it was raw excitement. He grunts as he drives his hips with strong jerks; I slide in the muddy grass. My hips rise to each thrust driving him in harder, deeper, faster. The rhythm becomes irregular and he pauses pressing as deep as he can. His release makes me come again. This time I grab the ground with both hands, fingernails cutting into the dirt, grass tearing loose in my hands. My teeth let go of my bottom lip as the moan I was holding in is set free.

He pulls out, falling back to sit in the grass, shorts and underwear still down. Getting off the ground, I pull my pants up and speak first. “Don’t follow me. I have to go…” with that, I left him there buttoning my pants as I left. If he says anything, I'll keep going, don't say anything, don't stop. Walking as fast as I can without running. I leave him there.

Around the block I walk, not looking back for a long way. Finally, I do. He is not there. Coming full circle, I stop at the house with the large oak, looking back to where we were together. There was nothing but darkness there. I walk up closer and pause for a long minute before turning to the house and using my key to open the backdoor. The jeans with the muddy knees and the grass stained tee-shirt fall into the laundry hamper in the bathroom. Wet panties stretch past hips dropping to the floor. I stand naked in front of the mirror, holding my dirty hair up to better see the sweep of my neck as it runs down melting into the rest of my body’s curves. "Yes. I can get what I want. If he doesn’t want to give it to me, then I will get it on my own." Letting go of my hair, I let my hands slide down across my breasts and to my stomach.


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Knees drawn up towards my chest, neither awake nor asleep, I lay in bed on my side. My husband’s weight is pushing on me as he snuggles behind me. It is a wonderful feeling. In our partial waking moments, we are not arguing. I shift my weight slightly back and forth to get more comfortable, his body is pressing uncomfortably close. One of his arms is under my pillow; it lifts my head slightly into a position I have come to love because I know he is there with me, and I am not alone. His other arm drapes across me, his hand holding mine. My shifting causes him to roll back a little onto his side, and we fit together smoothly.

His hand pulls away from mine, resting on my bare stomach. His palm covers my bellybutton only briefly before it creeps up. His hand pauses before covering my breasts, pushing them up a little. Only pausing but a second, his hand descends down to my hip. He lets his hand turn so that his palm rests on my side. His hand traces back up, this time continuing to the breast I’m not laying on, cupping it tightly. His thumb and finger tease my nipples with his usual roughness as he moves his hips. Rocking his hips slightly left, then right, up then down, I can feel him getting hard as he works against me.

“Honey.” I say sleepily. I mean it to be a protest. I am comfortable and after the drinks from last night, I want to sleep in. He rolls away from me, his warmth gone from me as he pulls away taking the covers with him. A chill, and a shiver passes over me. His arm pulls out from under my head, and I am no longer comfortable. I roll over more onto my stomach, but still a little on my side.

I hear him rustle for something under the bed. I let out a frustrated breath, working my head into my pillow trying to get comfortable. I don’t say anything. My head hurts, and my eyes don’t want to open. I don’t fight the gravity pulling me back to sleep. I don’t need to look at the alarm clock, it is about 6:45 AM, and he has to be at work soon.

The damn birds chirping outside our window grates my nerves. I just want to sleep. I hear foil paper tearing. My husband shifts in the bed. The covers pull, and I pull back. A plastic smell fills the air. I sigh, “Honey it is early…I don’t have to work today.”

He kisses my neck as his warmth returns beside me. His hand rubs my back from my shoulder to my bare ass. He teases each cheek, pulling them apart, then together, then apart. His fingers trace down between my legs. His nails scratch against my moist sensitive skin. I hear him smacking his lips building salvia in his mouth. His hand pulls away from me. I feel him shift in bed again. I feel his wet hand return to my pussy. I wiggle shifting my weight in bed as his fingers slid around inside me. It is uncomfortable; I don’t like his spit rubbing into me, but I don’t say anything about it.

He abruptly stops rubbing me, and positions himself behind me. His body bears down, pressing me into the bed as he enters. I feel him spread me apart as he slides in and out; there is no warmth from his latex covered cock. One arm holds enough weight off of me for me to breath. His other hand runs through my tangled hair, pulling as it catches in his fingers.

The friction stirs a small spark, and I rock my hips trying to get his shaft to touch me where I want. The smell of wet earth fills my mind and the memory of last night floods my sensations. My husband moves in and out of me. Half asleep in the fog of my mind, I am sliding in the wet grass, knees pulled up to my chest. My husband continues his thrusting; I drift further off into myself. My zipper scratches on my chest as my jeans keep the teenager fucking me from reaching me.

My husband feeling me getting wetter hardens his pace. I rock with each pass of his cock and tighten my grip on my pillow as he briefly catches a sensitive spot. I twist side-to-side trying to catch the spot again. Feeling me begin to come, my husband releases my breast to lower his hand to my stomach just as it spasms. My pussy grips his cock tightly and he drives it hard into me. He grabs the sides of my hip as he rams into me hard. I grimace from the pain, and then arch my back against him as I feel his body come too. The condom captures his release and there is no heated pulse in his ending.

He holds me for a minute as his rapture passes, I am still breathing hard. He rolls away from me. “Got to get to work…Love ya.” He leans back over to kiss my neck. I hear him getting dressed as I lay in bed. Finally cold enough to take action, I reach out and pull the covers back over me. It doesn’t take him long to get ready and leave. The door closing let's me know I am alone. The urge to go to the bathroom and the discomfort of my own wetness running across my bottom and down my leg finally drives me out of bed and into the bathroom.

Staggering still with a head muddled with sleep and a hangover, I fall back into bed and drift off to sleep to the dream of a young man's desperate sweaty hands rubbing me softly.

I run from the boy sitting in the grass with his pants down around his ankles. I roll over stirring myself awake. For that instant, I see morning is passing into the afternoon; rays of sunshine peak through the blinds. One arm under me, the other arm wrapped around my pillow, I lay on my stomach in bed held tight by the covers. I am wet, and sweaty wet. The wetness is all that is left of the dream.

For another instant, the ceiling fan comes into existence , I open my eyes again. Then they close on their own -- Blackness. mmmmm…. I stretch, before sitting up in the bed. I rub my palms up and across my chest, to wipe away the beads of sweat . Looking at the clock, 11:30. Six hours before Jim gets off from work. I fall back into bed, rolling over trying to get comfortable in the sweaty sheets. I can’t. I get up to take a shower, running my hand along the hall wall as I walk towards the bathroom. My eyes half open, I step into the shower.

Warm water trickles down my back as the shower pulses on my head. My long hair sticks to my back and face. Water fills my eyes, and I wet my lips with the water. Arching my back and tilting my head back, I let the shower massage my chest, then my back. Soap and water wash away the sweat and musky smell of sex and heat.

Toweling myself off, I stop, picking up the white panties lying on the floor. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid…is it worth it…why did I…so close to home…stupid, stupid. I wrap myself in a towel. Reaching into the laundry hamper, I take out my jeans with muddy knees, and the grass stained gray t-shirt. I take them to the laundry room and stuff them into the washer to wash away the dirt.