Not My Type, Except

Everything was perfect. We grew closer and closer, and I loved what I found in her.

Some might think that opening doors of intimacy and trust is always magical, but sometimes deep-seated fears can lay dormant in a hidden room and rush out when that door is opened. Looking back, it was inevitable that certain seeds I planted early, then forgot, would germinate in those dark places and threaten to choke out our carefully tended garden. Laura had warned me, and I forgot that, too.

It all started so well. Christy had invited me over on a Friday evening, telling me to be there "at 5:30 sharp, for pre-game festivities."

I wondered at the exact time. With Christy, it might be a surprise, but it was bound to something fun. I got more than I bargained for.

The door opened when I walked up, and Christy pulled me inside. I got a quick glimpse of a black teddy before she crushed her chest to mine and began making love with her lips and tongue. Waves of lust poured off her heaving skin. I had seen Christy in the throes of passion before, but this was different. She wanted something, and she wanted it bad. No problem, I thought to myself. I love making my girl happy.

She turned me around and advanced, pushing me back toward her bedroom. I liked when she took charge, especially when a bed was the objective. We got there and she guided me back onto the bed. I stretched out, and she went around to the other side. Facing me, she whipped the teddy over her head, slid over next to me, grabbed my hand, and turned away, dragging me close behind her. I snuggled in, and she sighed, pushing her arms up over her head and pushing out her chest.

I accepted the invitation-take me-and cupped a breast. The skin was tight and pebbled, and the nipple was diamond hard. Christy is way turned on, I thought to myself. I palmed her breast firmly, and she squirmed into me, brushing her ass against my hips.

With gasps and shudders, Christy guided me to what she wanted. And that was lusty handling of her nipples and lots of grinding contact with her ass. Soon, she was writhing into me and moaning continuously.

Then Christy angled her ass so that my straining cock slipped between her cheeks. With a loud moan, she pushed back. Something hard brushed against the underside of my cock.

What the hell? I thought to myself. Then it hit me, and my entire body jerked in realization. Christy had a butt plug lodged deep in her ass. I pulled her tight against me and nuzzled her neck. She sighed deeply, happy to have been discovered.

Again, Christy guided me to grind deep, my cock pushing the base of the plug hard against her anus. Suddenly, she pulled her hips away. Her arm reached back behind her, and I felt her easing the plug out of her ass. Her arms reached for something, and I heard a lid snap. Next she reached back again and slid a cool liquid over my cock, warming it with her fingers. Then she squirmed back to me again, and she positioned my cock carefully at her anus.

So many things had happened so fast that I could barely keep up. Was this really going to happen?

I got my answer when Christy lifted her upper leg and splayed her hips open, bracing her foot on my calf. This gave her the leverage to drive her hips into me, and that's what she did. She held my cock steady, and the head opened her up and slipped inside the rings of her anus.

"Oh, God," she whispered. She kept pushing.

The butt plug had done its job, and my my cock slid easily into Christy as she slowly pushed back. After an inch or so, her hand released my rod and moved between her legs.

"Ohhhhhhh," she sighed when her fingers found her folds. She pushed me a little deeper, then paused. She backed me out a little, then pushed again. Slowly but surely, my cock slid deep inside her. She didn't stop until my hips had flattened her ass cheeks.

"You are so deep. So very, very, deep," she breathed, almost to herself. Her ass was sultry hot, smooth, and tight. I remained still and let her move how she wanted. With her foot braced on my leg, she could lift her hips and push in any direction. She started slow, but got more active as she accustomed herself to my cock and she excited herself with her fingers.

"Take me," she commanded, and I responded, twisting her nipple firmly and pushing my cock into her ass.

"Oh, fuck, Yes!" She drove her ass hard into me, and the base of my cock strained against her sphincter. We got into a rhythm, both of us pushing together, her fingers a blur between her legs.

I had been concentrating so much on Christy that my own orgasm thankfully stayed at bay. But as she thrashed above, the eroticism of the moment caught up to me, and an enormous pressure began building in my balls.

I felt Christy's body tense, and she dropped her hips to drive my cock as deep as her body weight would allow. I twisted her nipple hard, knowing that pain and pleasure danced together at moments like these.

For myself, I clamped down on my cock, trying to hold my own eruption back.

I made it. With a shriek, Christy came, hard. I felt the deep contractions pulse through her ass. Even her breast throbbed in my hand. That's when I lost it, and I howled my release as jets of cum struggled past her wildly clamping anus and sprayed deep into her bowels.

We both thrashed and whimpered through our orgasms. Finally, Christy's body relaxed into mine, and I released the pressure on her nipple. We recovered our breath, and then Christy sighed. I expected her to snuggle for the afterglow.

I was wrong.

Christy's arm moved back, and she pulled my hips firmly into her. She moved her upper leg along the lower, and started twisting face down. Her hand tugged at my waist, and I got her message, rolling my body on top of hers. Don't you dare let that cock slip out of my ass!

Safely in position, Christy sighed and adjusted her legs so she could arch her hips. Her hand slipped underneath to start its dance again.

I moved my arms and legs to support myself, and carefully pushed deeper into Christy. My cock had softened a bit after that clamping orgasm, but Christy relaxed herself and I slid in easily. Soon, I didn't need to worry; my cock was more than eager for a second round.

Christy felt the change.

"You can go hard, Dan. Not rough, but you can go hard."

I knew Christy well enough to understand the hidden command. In situations like these, can meant will.

I pushed down firmly, and she moaned her approval. She started pushing back, and I carefully adjusted my angle for the smoothest entry. Then, I drove faster into her.

"Yesss," she hissed, and she bucked back to meet my thrusts.

The first light slapping sound emerged, and it egged us on. Christy drove her hips up into me. Soon I was fucking her ass the way she wanted. The sounds of hot flesh slapping reverberated in the room.

Christy tensed, but never stopped bucking. She came with a yell, but just powered right through it. My balls felt her fingers slow for a moment, then they picked back up to further abuse her sopping pussy. Her fingers with flinging little droplets against our legs.

I kept my entry true and smooth, and I just started slamming into her.

"Yes! Fuck my ass!" Christy yelled. She was way gone, so deep into lust that she probably didn't know her name.

That did it. I'm one of those guys whose sexual response is deeply tied to his partner's, for better or worse. I had never been with a woman so abandoned into lust before. My skin prickled with the waves coming off of her. I almost felt faint with the intensity of it.

This was raw female power. No wonder they kept it carefully in check. It could be too naked; too dangerous.

But not this time. Christy and I slammed together, and I let her carry me along. At some elemental level, we fused, and her passion became mine. I lost track of everything but my connection to her.

Her soul blazed, and it was mine. White hot power; a dizzying leap into the unknown; timeless wonder.

Only later did I realize that an orgasm was involved. I don't know what to call what happened.

Eventually, some faint threads of consciousness tangled together, and I was aware of myself again. I had collapsed on top of Christy, and my body was trying to recover. I felt her stir beneath me.

What do you say after something like that? I had no idea, so I just nuzzled her neck, trying to communicate something. Love? Affirmation? Reverence? I don't know.

We shifted so I was lying beside her, and I eased my shriveled cock out of her ass. I held her as she drifted off, then I did the same.

When I awoke, dusk was filtering through the windows. Christy shifted, and she snuggled into me for a bit.

"Like to get a shower?" she asked.

"Love to," I replied. But I was troubled. Christy had yet to look into my eyes. She always did that.

We had an uneasy shyness about us as we cleaned up. We averted eyes and spoke overly politely and mechanically. I took her to dinner, but barely tasted anything. Lying beside her that night, I tried to think.

The enormity of what happened intimidated me, on many levels. First, what Christy had shared about her sexual self. Times were changing, but it was still true: the stakes were higher for women. Christy had confessed that she liked me in her ass; in some ways, she needed it. I could hurt her deeply with that knowledge. I had a feeling she planned for me to know before we went too much further, so she could judge my true character. Was I truly the right man to set her free?

Next, her display of raw, naked, feminine power. I'm not sure she planned on showing me that, but it happened. Would that scare me away? I'm sure she wondered.

Finally, the spiritual connection we made, the most vulnerable thing of all. Whether she planned to or not, Christy had invested a lot of herself in me. She required me to nurture it. If I walked away, that part of herself would be gone forever. I needed to sort out what I had invested in her, but the unease I felt testified that it was something big.

The next morning, I clung to her, but the thing was there between us.

Fear. That cold, relentless, destroyer of relationships. We both felt it, and it showed in our eyes. The effortless communication with Christy was gone.

It seemed like a good idea to give Christy some space, so I went home that morning and got some errands done that had been piling up over the last several weeks.

I called her that evening. Her voice was cold and dead. An icy sweat broke on my skin-something was really wrong. This was way more than the vulnerability of the morning. I put down the phone with my guts twisting in knots.

Worse yet, I called Laura and got no answer. That was rare. Texts went unanswered as well.

As anyone knows who has been in some stage of love-and face it, that's where I was-the flip side of the soaring heights is the bottomless pit when that love is threatened. The next several days passed in a haze of sickening obsession, trying to figure out what was wrong. I wracked my brain. Should I have held on that morning until we figured it out? I replayed events over and over.

Even my friend Laura was no help, and she and I had always leaned on each other in matters of the heart. I finally got a text answered one day:

Dan. Too much emotion. Give this some time, OK?

I obsessed over that as well-it could be read many ways.

Christy answered my calls, but I could feel that I shouldn't pester her, so I only made a couple.

Finally, as Thursday evening came, I sat down on my deck with a beer and resolved not to sulk, but to move forward. When the head doesn't work, use the heart I remembered Laura saying.

So I reached down and did. And the answer came: share my feelings. I called.

"Christy, may I come over to see you tomorrow? I feel like I'm losing you, and it's tearing me up."

She agreed. Her voice was short, but she agreed.

When she opened the door, my heart flooded with her conflicting emotions. Her eyes were red, but they leapt in hope before she clamped them down again. Her hug was a little desperate, but strained and formal at the same time. I'm sure I looked and felt the same.

We stood by her bar. I had resolved not to ask why, but to share and see where that led.

"Christy, I'm scared. Something has happened between us, and I don't know what it is. But I'm afraid I'm losing you."

That struck a chord, and Christy's eyes welled up in pain.

"Where is this going, Dan? I know I'm just a trophy girlfriend, marking time while you find your type. The tight little brunette minx, remember? But in the meantime, do I make a good piece of jewelry on your arm? You had to be pushed to ask me out, but do I keep you occupied?"

Her words lanced into me, and I winced with each one.

Her puffy eyes narrowed to laser beams, piercing my own. She spat out the next words, firing each syllable like a gun.

"Better yet, do I make a good fuck toy, now that you've sampled all the goods?"

"Christy!"

"Don't give me that lame what did I say? what did I do? excuse stuff. Please. Just don't." She was ready to cry.

And suddenly, so many pieces fell into place. We judge ourselves on our intentions, not our actions. It is so hard to see our actions any other way. I wanted to argue. Didn't she drag me into bed with her? I wanted to explain. But my heart said not to, and for once, I listened.

"Oh, God, Christy, I can see how you might come to those conclusions, and you would feel terribly used. I'm so sorry that I've caused you that pain, especially with a little turncoat mutual friend whispering in your ear."

Christy's eyes softened just the smallest amount. At least you're acknowledging how I feel.

"What if I answer you by sharing what's been in my heart? All of it."

Her eyes widened. "That's a start. I'm listening."

I sighed. "This will be a long story, and its tough to tell. I don't share my heart very often. Not part of the standard equipment for the male species."

She didn't smile. "Take your time."

I gathered my wits and my courage. This was going to get worse before it got better.

"You're right. You weren't my type when I asked you out. It sounds like you got a pretty good description from Laura of what my type was. And I did tell her that you should be someone's trophy wife."

"That hurt, Dan."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to take you down. I liked you as part of my circle of friends, and I wouldn't hurt a friend. It was just that I was annoyed at Laura for meddling, and I was trying to shut her up about you. Look, Christy, I told Laura you were very attractive, you were vivacious, and I could see a long list of guys trying their luck with you. I didn't need to get in that line."

"That's what burns me up, Dan! Just because I'm a curvy redhead, and I'm friendly with people, I get labeled as some kind of bimbo, or maybe some kind of slut?"

I sighed in despair.

"Christy. I'm trying to catch up with all the things my words could mean. All I can say is that I didn't mean it that way. I'm trying share everything going through my heart at the time. It doesn't follow any logic or rules. So to be honest, I didn't pay enough attention to see your intelligence or your character. I just gave a quick explanation to get Laura off my case about you. Remember, my heart wasn't looking that hard for leggy, stacked redheads."

"You can say that again. I sent a few signals, but just gave up. You were so not interested. I can't believe Laura talked you into it."

"Maybe if I tell you a story it will help you understand?"

"I don't know if I'll ever understand, but go ahead and try."

"Take my hands, Christy. I want you to feel what I feel. My sister always made me do that when she wanted the truth. It's hard to lie when you're holding hands."

Christy took my hands in hers and returned her intense gaze to my eyes. I could see a flicker of hope, and my heart soared.

"I was a young boy and wanted my first cap gun to play with the other kids. They all had shiny silver models, with pearl-looking grips, and I wanted the same thing. I had saved some money and my Dad took me to the toy store. We got to the cap gun section, and I reached straight for my heart's desire. Except, Dad wanted me to get a different model. It was a dark, gunmetal color with a black grip. It was heavier. It cost more. I didn't like it at all. It wasn't my type. With me?"

Christy nodded. She at least wanted to see where this story was going.

"My Dad tried every argument and explanation to get me to change my mind. He said it was a much better cap gun; higher quality; it would last longer. He said it was like what he had as a kid, and 'they didn't make them like they used to.' He said I would be much happier in the long run. I wasn't buying it. Finally, he resorted to bribery. He said he would make up the price difference. Then he offered to buy me this huge box of caps. Then he added a belt and holster. He was goading me, as you put it."

Christy's mouth twitched up just the tiniest amount.

"Finally, I couldn't pass up the pile of loot he was offering. I figured what the heck? I was getting about the same dollar amount in stuff I needed anyway, so I could always come back and buy the gun I wanted later. I took it to the cash register, and already I'm thinking maybe this isn't too bad. I took it home and tried it out, and it did have a very nice feel. It always fired, and it loaded quickly. The intrinsic quality of the thing got to me. I started liking it more and more. Even the color and look grew on me. It was badass, not flashy, at least as a little kid defines those things. In a few days, you couldn't pry that gun out of my hands. It was what I really wanted; I just didn't know it before. Even my friends came to appreciate it. So the moral I learned is this: Sometimes I don't know what's good for me, and I need someone to goad me into it. I thought about my gun story when Laura started goading me over you. And she did a good job. My type switched to leggy, vivacious redheads pretty quickly. I haven't looked back."

I took a breath and squeezed her hands. "So what I'm saying, Christy, is that I admit I wasn't looking for your type before. Laura did push me into it. But I know myself, and I listened to her story. I followed her advice, and I was blown away. Besides being a tall, curvy, vivacious redhead, you are smart, funny, perceptive, passionate, and true to yourself. You are far more than what I wanted. I didn't know what I wanted."

I continued. "So where is this going? I don't know everything. I'm not ready to propose, if that's what you're asking. That's a big commitment right now. But you have a piece of my heart, Christy, that's yours forever. I don't know how I would live without you. You know, Laura said that I was looking for brass, and that you were solid gold. She was right. Believe me, Christy, I am not marking time."

Christy didn't say anything, but she looked into my eyes for a long time. I opened up completely while she dove deep within me and probed. I think I told her a lot of things, but as always it was happening at a level I only dimly perceived. But I know my heart told her I loved her.

Suddenly the connection snapped and Christy hurled herself into my arms. Hot tears ran down my cheeks, some hers, some mine. So much tension releasing. We cried with relief, tenderness, and finally, joy. We stayed locked together a long time. My Christy was back.

Finally, she pulled away, her face puffy and disheveled, but beautiful. "I'm not asking for a proposal, you goof." She laughed. "Yet."