Brisket Ch. 02

I looked at her, utterly confused. "But Matilda, you were the one who--"

She rode right over me. "I was the one who picked you up off the floor when that whore knocked you down and drove a truck over you. I was the one who got you back in the game and gave you more good sex than you'd had in your whole miserable life--you said so yourself!"

She went on in like that for a few more minutes, and I just waited until she started to run out of steam. Then I said, "Matilda, I'm sorry, but you told me at the beginning you weren't the romance type--unless George Clooney came along, and I ain't him. You said exactly what you wanted was to be friends with benefits, some no-commitment fucking."

A little less furious, she said, "can't a girl change her mind? For Christ's sakes, Rob, we've been keeping company a long time now--didn't you ever notice I'm kinda fond of you?"

Alarm bells were ringing loud and clear in my head now. I said, "honestly, Matilda, you're a terrific person. You're a great lady, and the sexiest woman I've ever known--but I always thought we'd be, you know, fuckbuddies like we've been."

I couldn't imagine a real romance, let alone marriage, with Matilda in my wildest dreams, but I wasn't about to put it that way. Still, even the gentle way I did put it left her steaming.

"I get the picture, you prick! Matilda's good for some nice fuck-and-suck, but nothing more than that. Well listen up, buddy--you're cut off! No more of me in your bed, you can bet on that!" And she turned on her heel and stormed away from me.

That was no fun, but at least I knew where I stood. I was going to miss the screwing, at least until I had another woman in my life; but I wasn't going to miss the pretty awful cooking, and to tell the truth I wasn't going to miss Matilda's company all that much.

So I went out with Leanne on Saturday, feeling like a free-agent ready to start something new. And after a couple of weeks of dating I could see that "lucky" wasn't exactly the word to describe my situation.

Leanne was a prude. She made it clear that we wouldn't be going any further than some brief goodnight kisses until she had a ring on her finger. What's more, she was also a control freak. Her idea of fun was sitting in my kitchen telling me which cabinet the dishes should be moved to, instead of leaving them where I was happy with them. Or why my car was too old and needed replacing. Or which six other restaurants were better than the one I'd picked for us to have dinner.

So after four dates Leanne was history. And I never looked back, despite a handful of calls from her, the last one pretty angry. The mystery to me is not how she wound up divorced, but who would have been enough of a sap to marry her in the first place.

The next weekend Jim and Patty had me over to dinner, as they did from time to time; and to my surprise we were joined by Patty's younger sister Barbara, whom I had never met before. I suspected a set-up, but I played it straight, and we all had a relaxed, pleasant evening.

On Monday morning, though, I sure gave Jim a hard time about it. He kept trying to look apologetic but blowing it by breaking out in laughter.

"Not my fault, Rob," he said, chuckling. "What Patty wants, Patty gets. She knows you're dating again--finally--and she wants you to give Barb a shot."

Barb was pretty, actually, and I could easily imagine being interested. But I was also very wary. "And what happens if she and I don't hit it off--if she decides I'm an asshole or something? Then I end up looking like the bad guy to Patty. I don't want to be in that position."

Still smiling, Jim said, "Patty and I talked about that. She was very clear: all she wants is for you to go out with Barb once, if you're willing. After that, whatever happens happens. And she swore to me that if the two of you didn't click she would never hold it against you."

What the hell, I thought. So I called Barb and took her to dinner that Saturday. We had a perfectly nice time, kind of low-key, and when I dropped her off I thought I'd get a nice kiss and that would be it. But she took my hand and said, "will you come in for coffee, Rob? It's still early."

I'm no idiot. She made some coffee, excused herself to change, and came back wearing a see-through black lace nightie that got my complete attention. Then she kneeled down in front of me, pulled my pants down and blew me right there on the living room couch. It wasn't a world-class blowjob like Matilda's, but I certainly enjoyed it.

After that I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, and we fucked enthusiastically. Three times, in fact. We fell asleep after the first, but she woke me up with her mouth in the middle of the night, then climbed on and rode me in the dark for a while. And the last time was first thing in the morning--after which she made us bacon and eggs and sat naked on my lap feeding them to me.

I drove away tired, dazed, and happy. The sex had been lots of fun, and there was clearly the prospect of more--as much as I wanted. Barb was lively and attractive, and while I hardly knew her I certainly didn't object to the idea of getting to know her better, while getting a lot of sex in the bargain.

But it wasn't long before I figured out why Barb was still single at 44, despite how pretty she was. On our second date we went to the movies, then back to my house--where we spent the night doing what we'd done on our previous date.

The next morning, over breakfast, Barb began hinting pretty obviously that she was ready to move in with me. She could see "how a woman's touch would really improve this place," she asked me what kinds of things I liked to eat for dinner, she complained about how small her apartment was and how high the rent was.

I was too shocked to respond, so I wisely kept my mouth shut (for once). But by our third date she was talking about marriage. She asked when I was going to introduce her to my daughters, saying it was important that she develop a good relationship with them.

Needless to say, this was about 90 mph faster than I was prepared to go. Marriage? For Christ's sakes, I'd spent three nights with this woman! But when I tried to point that out to her, carefully, things got worse.

First, she ignored or misunderstood all my gentle hints. So I finally said something more direct. "Barb, I feel like things are moving awful fast for us. I like you, but I am not anywhere near being ready to think about marrying again."

She looked at me coldly and said, "why buy the cow when the milk is free, eh Rob?"

"No, Barb, I--"

"If you weren't ready for marriage, then why the HELL have you been screwing me each time we get together? What is that about?"

"Barb, I guess we're both--"

"No, you son of a bitch," she said, icily. "You're just another jerk who's led around by his dick. Do anything to get a girl into bed, get another notch on his belt. Never mind how she feels, how lonely she is..." and at this point Barb suddenly dissolved into tears, sobbing at my kitchen table, her face buried in her hands.

I tried my best to comfort her but she stayed angry and tearful, refusing to talk to me. In the end I drove her back to her place, where she slammed the car door in my face and went into her apartment.

A bit mystified, I went home and called Jim. "Is your sister-in-law fuckin' nuts or is something wrong with me?"

He laughed. "Let me guess," he said. "You had a good time for a couple of dates and all of a sudden she's talking engagement rings and china patterns and where should we go on our honeymoon. Am I close?"

"On the nose, partner. I take it this has happened before?"

"I'm afraid so. Patty and I wondered if we should have warned you about it, but we decided just to let it play out. Barb gets overeager, to say the least. She's probably scared away a dozen guys or more.

"It's a shame, too, because she's a nice person. But based on past experience, Rob, she won't even talk to you now. You're history."

"Well," I said, "that's probably okay with me. That was one scary conversation we had! She was fun, but saying she jumped the gun a little doesn't begin to cover it.

"So are we okay? I mean, is Patty gonna hate my guts now?"

"Not at all, Rob. You gave it a shot, that's all she could have asked you to do."

*******************************

As the weeks went by my dating luck didn't improve any. I went out with a few other women--the cousin of a cop I knew, a really cute waitress at a diner I liked to have lunch in--but nothing ever went anywhere. Sometimes I got laid, mostly I didn't. I wasn't sure I was completely over Helen and ready to get serious, but it didn't matter anyway because I didn't click with any of the people I was dating.

In the meantime, Helen was bringing me food once a week. After the apple pie had come a peach pie--really good. And as before I left her a phone message to say thanks.

Then it turned into a regular thing. A roast chicken, a meat loaf, a big pasta salad. Suddenly I was eating well again, at least a couple of times a week, but without Matilda I was back to living a pretty sexless existence.

On a Saturday afternoon I was driving back from the hardware store when I saw Helen. She was in the parking lot at the Acme, loading her bags of groceries into the Volvo. I was sitting at a red light so I watched her, aware of all her familiar little mannerisms.

I drove home and went back to work on the bathroom tile I was re-grouting, but my mind was wandering. About an hour later I stood up, washed my face and hands and changed into clean clothes. I got into the car and somehow, without allowing myself to think about it, found myself in front of Helen's apartment building.

When she opened the door she was shocked to see me, but after a moment she gave me a smile--a kind of hesitant one. "Hi, Rob--please come in. This is a nice surprise."

She was wearing shorts and a green knit top. She looked good. Less upset than when she'd come to the house. Still shapely, the way she'd always been, though she was thinner than when we'd been together.

"Hi Helen." I walked in and sat down on the couch in her small living/dining room, still wondering what the hell I was doing there.

"I wanted to thank you for all the great food you've been bringing over. You're still the best cook I've ever known--it's been delicious."

She gave me a big smile, obviously very pleased. "I'm glad, Rob. I hoped that--well, I hoped you'd like it. I still like to cook for you."

We sat in silence for a minute. Her smile faded and she looked a bit uncertain. She must have been wondering what the hell I was doing there. I wondered that myself.

"Helen," I said suddenly. "I want you to suck me off." Until I said it I hadn't realized that was why I had driven over there.

She looked completely stunned for a moment. And then she smiled, shyly, and said, "okay, Rob."

She came over and kneeled in front of me, looking up at me very seriously. And she undid my belt and my zipper, and then slid my pants and boxers down around my ankles. Then, without any hesitation, she leaned forward and began kissing and licking all around my cock--my pubic hair, my thighs, and then, holding my soft penis out of the way, my balls.

I just sat back and let her do it--kind of amazed by what I'd just said, and her reaction. She lifted my cock and gently sucked all of it into her mouth--easily, since I didn't have an erection yet. But it grew quickly. Her mouth felt so hot and wet, and she swirled her tongue around my cock deliciously.

Within a minute or two I was hard and stiff, and then she began really working on me. She used her lips and lots of tongue, keeping her teeth well away from me, and she blew me slowly and lovingly--and skillfully, I had to admit. I couldn't help thinking how experienced she obviously was, and none of it with me. And rage mingled with my pleasure and excitement.

For a while Helen kept her eyes on my dick as she sucked it, then pulled back to lick up and down it like an ice-cream cone. When it was slick she stroked it gently while sucking on my balls--God that felt incredible! Then she went back to blowing me, sliding smoothly up and down my cock with her soft wet lips.

After several minutes I noticed she was watching my face, and I could see tears streaming down her cheeks. Our eyes met and we watched each other as she worked on me, getting me more and more excited. I started to grunt and push my hips at her and she got faster, sliding up and down, using one hand to cup my balls.

And suddenly I was seconds away from coming, and she sucked harder, and I shot up into her throat as she pushed her head down on me, taking my cum deep in the back of her throat. I gasped and cried out and she stayed with me; and as I relaxed, slumping back on the couch, she sucked and licked gently, cleaning me as I softened. She didn't let go until I was completely soft again.

Her eyes were red from crying, and her face was wet with her tears. I felt totally mixed-up: grateful, soothed, angry, bitter. I figured we were both thinking the same thing: all those years she did this for other men, when she could have been doing it for me!

We looked at each other, silently; and I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to her, so she could wipe her face. "Thanks, Rob," she said, very quietly. I think she wanted to say more, but she just sat back on her heels, still kneeling in front of me, and looked down at the floor.

"That ... felt really great, Helen," I said. There was a long, tense silence.

Suddenly I couldn't stand it anymore. "I gotta go," I said gruffly. I stood up, pulled up my boxers and pants, and left the apartment without looking back. I listened behind me, but Helen didn't say anything else.