Tribute To A Friend

Let me be up front -- this story is a tribute to a friend who passed away.  So there's sorrow in it, but I wanted to let you know right up front so that you will bear with me through the misty introduction and then we can all have fun remembering the series of sexual escapades this friend and I shared.  I know you read these stories to get some titillation, to get a handle on my sexual appetite and kinks and sense of sexual adventure.  Don't worry, it’s all in here. Now, on with the blog entry....

 

So recently a friend in my neighborhood let me know that another one of my neighbors had suffered a death in her family.  I checked the newspaper for an obituary, and while looking for my neighbor's family member, I found the obituary for a friend of mine instead.  At least, I thought it was instead.  And then I found out what my neighbor's maiden name was.  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.  How random was it that I was looking at the obituaries at all, and thought I'd found an obituary for another friend (okay, fuck buddy, but please, I'm sort of grieving, I told him he missed his calling and should have been a lesbian because he ate pussy so well) while looking for my neighbor's brother.  And then the friend who let me know about the death said, "did you find it, her brother's name was James....."  Small world, my dear friend James, whose obit I found turned out to be my neighbor's brother.  Small world, sometimes.  No real way to tell my neighbor how I knew her brother. I merely expressed my sorrow for her family's loss.  James and I had not been in touch for right around six months at the time he died.

 

I said "fuck buddy", but truly, he meant something special to me.  If I'm being honest with myself, he was more than a fuck buddy to me.  But what? I'll never know if it was an affair.  I do know he told me that he loved me.  I'd say it to him, too.  I meant that I loved him like a friend.  He was married, and I wasn't trying to break that up.  And he never hinted that he could leave her, just the opposite in fact, he specifically told me that he would not leave her.

 

And yet there was a seven year stretch where at least once every year we had sex.

 

Now sometimes, it was only a fluke of calendar that kept the streak alive. 

 

Like the year when we'd sworn off each other sometime in the summer.  So nearly a year and a half went by until two Christmases later.  He just couldn't stay away, and when he did contact me, oh, I just wanted to talk with him forever and a day and be bitchy and catty about all the people we knew, sarcastic and snarky about the world, and then I usually loved the feeling I got when he told me how he thought about me.

 

Even Dolly Jewel needs to be told she's sexy and gives a fella his greatest pleasure once in a while.

 

And so that second Christmas, we agreed to go to a basketball game of all things, he had sweet tickets.  No, not a suite, like a luxury box.  I mean down on the floor, front row, where the ball ends up in your lap when it goes out of bounds, when the players are so close you can smell the sweat, where they hear you and giggle if you're witty, like James was.  So that's what I mean by the seats were "sweet".  Lakers fans, think Jack Nicholson, Knicks fans, think Spike Lee, got it now?

 

Well we never made it to the basketball game.  He came over, brought a bottle of bubbly saying he wanted to celebrate our "reunion."  And I thought he was adorable and put on some music and did a strip tease and a lap dance and knelt at his feet and sucked him and took him to my bed and oh, I tell you, he was done before I had everything off that I wanted to take off.  That was part of his comment,  "Dolly, I'm so badly out of practice, I've finally had sex with you while your bra was still on.  Shit I'm sorry, where's that toy of yours?"

 

Then he manipulated my toy and my body and I enjoyed a pair of soul-expanding, body convulsing orgasms.

 

That was late in December.

 

We were still giggling about how naughty it had been a week later, a couple days after New Years, when he simply asked if he could bring me some dinner.  And that was a meal we actually ate, Chinese takeout, and then we fucked.  Instead of two minutes, I think he made it four minutes that day.  Doggy style, his thumb lubed up and in my ass while his condom-covered cock split my not-even fiddled with yet pussy in two.

 

And then we didn't hook up again until the fall.  So those two nights were the only times we saw each other in a span that was otherwise close to two and a half years.  But still, they both counted and kept our streak of seven years as sex partners going.

 

The time he made up a business networking event and we actually spent so much time in bed that he recovered his erection after yet another premature ejaculation and so we did it twice.  On what he told me as he left was actually his wife's birthday.

 

I promise, had he told me earlier, I'd have sent him home to her.  Sure, I'll screw her husband, I didn't take a vow to hold myself only for her, but sheesh, her birthday?  I did spank him a bit for that.

 

The really great crab dip at a certain bistro, we didn't kiss much when we went from there to the Jacuzzi suite in a Doubletree Hotel.  Doesn't sound glamorous -- and it wasn't, but it was next door and he only had so much time, so ..... yeah, I'm not just all about the glitz and glamour.  

 

And then his brilliant idea to take me to a strip club and have me sit on his lap and buy ME lap dances.  No, really, I mean it, it was brilliant, I don't think I ever felt so close and bonded with him as when we shared that experience, we were together all night and it felt like we were a couple.  We always joked about a threesome with a stripper, but we never got around to it.  Though I'd dress the part for him a few times.  And I collected a "donation" from him in a satin garter on my thigh.

 

And then -- horrors!-- his condom broke one night when we were not exactly glamorous but instead were screwing in his Camry (not a luxury car kind of guy, my James).  After the shock, he pronounced that "it was very very likely that I could not get pregnant that night because of where I was in my cycle.  James knew me so well he knew where I was in my menses cycle?!

He was right, he didn't knock me up.

 

Final recollection (probably), he served in the National Guard and his unit got sent to Iraq.  And he would call me at my office.  It was done through a local (305) area code that was set up on his base.  And then we'd just talk.  He said talking to me made him feel normal.  I sent his "care" packages  -- the postal service had special boxes made up with pre-printed spaces to hold the military addresses which had different contents than just a number, street name and then town.  Did you know Target sells wine in containers that were darn close to being juice boxes?  Much better to send those than glass.  We clinked glasses by ourselves, when he'd get the wine then call me again to drink it "with" me.

 

Okay, or the time he smuggled me along to his industry convention, on the same flight with him and the rest of his team, and then hundreds of folks who knew him.  They never suspected a thing.

 

We stopped sleeping together when he got back from Iraq.  He said he wanted to take the fresh start to work on his marriage.  Which still had problems.  And he told me that things got better, and when Christmas and then New Year's rolled around, I realized the streak of seven years was over.  He was older than I am, I'm now as old as he was back then.  We got together for a handful of lunches or drinks, once it was dinner, but we never again shared our bodies, and he always gave me such wise sounding advice about the men in my life.  I just told him I was glad he was in my life, and we shared a sweet kiss that last time we were together.  I recall it was raining, and he held my umbrella for me at the valet stand.  A hug, a kiss on the cheek.

 

I meant to call him for his birthday, And then, a short time before his birthday, I found him in the obituaries, and then found out his sister lived two doors down from me.

 

I've seen that neighbor in the community pool when there has been a party, though usually I swim in my own pool. She's got a pretty good body, which is how I'd describe her late brother.

 

Yes, before I knew they were related, I'd had a fantasy about taking her to the bi-side with me.

 

But now, I just don't think I could do that without breaking down, and my neighbor, and James' widow, don't need to know anything extra from me.  They spoke at the funeral, and each spoke with love and admiration for James, who would never, ever let me call him Jimmy.

 

Okay, now really this will be the final story:  He called his dick "Little Jimmy".  Cute.

 

Rest in peace, dear James, even years after we stopped screwing, I loved you, and you could always make me laugh.  One evening when we simply met for a cocktail I was having a rough times with the "cover job" I work during the day, and I wasn't feeling sexy. 

"Are you fucking kidding?" he said, kind of louder than I'd wished, "I'll fuck you any time, anywhere.  Name it. C'mon, right now, I'm serious, I'll fuck you right here, so you'll have all these witnesses at the bar who can see how fucking hot you are.  And everyone here knows me."

 

I laughed, and then we hugged, and then we ate dinner that night.

 

I was so sad to see his obit, and tried to move on.  I had started to think I was over him, and then while walking my dog I came across James' sister, pushing her stroller.

 

"Oh, Dolly, I'm glad I ran into you with no one else around," she said.  Which made me uneasy, that "no one around part." What did she know, what was she going to accuse me of?

 

I asked what the matter was.

 

"Well, I'm my brother James' executrix, which was odd that he didn't name his wife.  But I was always loyal to him, he was my blood, and sometimes I guess they had some difficult times even though they loved each other.  People can love each other but still not be happy, you know what I mean?" 

 

Um, yes, I do know.  Met a few guys like that along the way.  But I wasn't going to tell HER that!

 

"But anyway, Dolly, not to worry you because it stays between us, it is just that when going through his phone to identify what bill-pay or other financial links I needed to keep the estate's financial matters going, I found you.  I mean, you were in his contacts."

 

I didn't say anything.  My neighbor smiled.

 

"I'm glad someone gave him some happiness," she said, then she took my hand, squeezed, and we shared about a half-hug.

 

"Lord knows his widow didn't warm up his bed much the past many years, though they did love each other.  He was crazy about you, thought of you as his best friend.  He confided in me.  I just didn't know who were you, if that makes sense, that the woman he was, well, that his friend he was crazy about was my neighbor until I saw a couple entries in his phone.  You don't need to admit or deny anything, Dolly, strangest thing, there were a few data areas in his phone that were deleted and are now safe, er, I mean gone forever.  I guess I was sloppy in learning how his phone worked, mine is a different manufacturer."  She winked.  She was keeping my secret with James a secret!

THE END

Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!

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