One of my dearest friends moved to New York City right after graduation. We kept in touch a little over the past few years, he grew up to be a dentist. When the invitations went out for the reunion, he made me a deal. If I would fly in, so would he. It was blackmail, you couldn't have paid me to go to the reunion. But he made an offer I couldn't refuse.
He had the worst crush on me in high school. The. Worst. He didn't know people knew, but you would have had to be dead to miss it.
It could have been one hell of a sexy evening. Master and I had planned it. I would wear my njoy pure plug firmly in my ass, without panties. The stage was set. I could feel the weight of the plug each time I moved. I was on the brink of orgasm... Perpetually. My prey was my dearest friend, Kurt. I was gussied up in a long dress that clung to my curves. Master gave me the rules of engagement.
Fingering under your dress, rubbing over his pants, touching, feeling. Dirty talk. No kissing.
Kurt and I embraced with affection when we met at the event center. We got drinks on the way in. The evening started off well. However, the alcohol was flowing a little fast. Conversation was good. It was good to see everyone. Kurt appeared to be having the time of his life. We stayed fairly close to each other all evening... The occasional embrace, the touch of a hand, I kept up my seduction. We flitted from conversation to conversation, one group to another. Mostly, a group of four of us stuck together. It was me, Kurt, JJ, and Sarah.
People started going home a little after 2300. The event center clearly didn't keep the doors open for all night parties. But, the four of us were not ready to part ways. What followed, was a bit of a scavenger hunt to find a bar that was still open. I don't think any of us are accustomed to small-town life anymore. He didn't occur to us that a bar could close before 0200 on a Saturday night. They say the third time is the charm, it certainly was for us. We drove from one end of town to the other, and finally we stopped in the middle, the third bar proving to not only be open, but be near the hotel where my friends were staying.
By this time, I was quite drunk. Kurt was worse. I started drinking on a full stomach... This gave me an advantage. Kurt? He hadn't eaten since lunch. And he started his evening with tequila. Ambitious to say the least.
He pressed into the booth close beside me. His arm about my shoulders. My hand on his knee.
Master and I had been texting all evening. He with questions. Me with reports. "Finger yourself under the table and lick off your juices," he said. "Send picture proof."
I would love to share the picture with you all, but my job depends on me keeping up professional appearances, and I'm not sure my employer would look kindly upon the content here.
I was so proud of myself. I felt so sneaky. There we were in the picture, him smiling like he was having the time of his life (more on that later) and me with my fingers coyly in my mouth.
I slid my hand up Kurt's leg and rested it gently against his crotch. No stir beneath my hand, but he seemed pleased.
I wish I could tell you about our brilliant conversation, our wordplay and loquative brilliance... But I'm afraid, I don't have much recollection. You will simply have to take my word, the memories of a drunken girl, as substantive.
We left the bar sometime between 0100 and 0200. The hotel was right down the street. We finally had an opportunity to be alone... But that's when things fell flat. Literally. He felt around under my skirt a little, and that's really what it was like, aimless. He felt the plug, but didn't give any indication that he had noticed. He was far too drunk to even come on to me properly. My role quickly changed from hunter to protector, when he began to talk.
He cried. He told me he loved me. Over and over. He even proposed a few times. Any sexual ideation was gone. I held him and shushed him and patted his head. I told him gently that I loved him too, but it was no where close to the same kind of love. If the reader will pardon my Greek, he meant eros. I meant philos.
...it seemed like it went on forever.
Master checked in periodically to know what was going on. As I re-read the texts, I can sense my growing bafflement.
"He's almost asleep, Sir. What would you like me to do?"
"It's been 10 years and he still has feelings for me."
"He has it really bad, Sir. Like wants to marry me bad."
"He is begging me to stay."
"He is so emotional"
"I'm about to walk out, Sir."
Three hours later, I told finally told Kurt at I needed to leave. He begged and pleaded for me to stay. Master had told me not to sleep with him or share a bed, so I left. Master is always my priority. He is invaluable.
I caught an Uber home and crashed in my bed, exhausted.
The next morning, we toured the high school. Kurt was more than hungover. He vomited from about 1000 to 1300. I forced fluids in him. He vomited. More fluids. Repeat, ad nauseum. (Oh, I do love a good pun.) We stopped at the grocery and got supplies. I kept nursing him. Ginger. Crackers. Coconut water. Juice. Pepto.
He slept and finally started feeling better about the time they dropped me at home. He said goodbye and thanked me.
He promised to call later this week. We probably do have to talk about everything. Ten years is a long time to hold on to romantic feelings.