Sharing My Love

I didn't go to the bar looking for trouble. I just needed to get away from my problems. The situation between me and my boyfriend is complicated. It's not that I hadn't seen it coming but that didn't make things less painful. I had driven from my boyfriend's apartment to my house, aware of the bar within walking distance of my place. I plan on getting roaring drunk then walking home. Alone.

I'm dressed a lot less provocatively than the other women here in groups or with dates. I'm wearing a white cotton shirt and black jeans. My black flat shoes were selected for comfort. My lackluster clothing can't conceal my curves though. They are impossible to hide.

The only thing average about my figure is my 5'5" height. I wear a size 34F bra, no implants. My huge breasts make my slender waist seem even smaller. Considering my ethnicity, (African American), my butt is not exceptionally big. But it is firm and round.

Tonight, I had gathered my dark curly hair into a high ponytail. Brown eyeglasses frame my dark brown eyes and long eyelashes. I have high cheekbones and full, lush, pink lips. I wear clear lip gloss, and eyeliner. My flawless, honey-gold complexion requires no other makeup. I easily pass for a 20 year old student (the bartender carded me) but, I'm a 29 year old nurse.

With all the women here in makeup, mini dresses, and high heels, I was sure that I'd be left alone. But I only manage a few sips of my Long Island Iced Tea before a man approaches and inquires about the stool beside mine. He introduces himself as Michael and insists I call him Mike. I tell Mike my name is Kayla as we shake hands.

I'm not like other women. I work hard at hiding my difference, but some men seem to sense it. Apparently, Mike is one of them.

After we shook hands, he slides closer to me until one of his knees rests against mine. My right hand returns to my drink. My left hand remains palm down against the top of the bar with my forearm acting as a perch for my oversized breasts to rest upon. He traces the back of that hand up to my forearm. His fingertips lightly stroke my forearm while the back of his hand ''inadvertently" rubs against the underside of my breasts.

Any normal woman would be offended by the invasion of her space and outraged by the liberties this stranger is taking. Me? Quite the opposite.

I smile and sip my drink as we talk. I do my best to ignore my erect, tingling nipples and the urgent throbbing between my legs.

Mike is a handsome, articulate black man. Even if he wasn't, it wouldn't matter. I am vulnerable to the opposite sex.

Shape, size, color, income doesn't matter. I can find something desirable about practically any man. I seem to want every man that wants me. Male attention is embarrassingly arousing and flattering to me.

Before my relationship became serious with Greg, a confident man like Mike could have been leading me out the door by now. If a guy seemed less confident, or even awkward, perhaps insecure about his height, the size of his dick, or whatever, I'd desire him even more. I'd want to suck and fuck away his uncertainties.

It's not that I can't turn down sex. I've never cheated on any of the few boyfriends I've had. But, I hate the fact that saying no to sex is such a struggle for me.

My problem has put a strain on my relationship with Greg, but not because I've been unfaithful. I love Greg and sex is my favorite way of showing him. We were both insatiable at the beginning of our relationship. Less than a year later, the thrill has faded for him.

Unfortunately, I remain as insatiable as ever. I don't want to make him feel like I'm unhappy though. So I try to distract myself by working longer shifts, doing volunteer work, and by masturbating whenever I'm alone.

I thought that despite our sex life's decline from three times a day to once a week, we had a wonderful relationship. Tonight I learned that he still has ties to his ex-girlfriend, Brenda, the woman he broke up with to be with me.

Determined to drown my pain, I finish my drink. Mike immediately buys me another one. My wounded ego and needy body eagerly bask in his lusty grin.

I know I should discourage his attention. Excuses to rid myself of his company hover unspoken upon my tongue throughout our conversation. But it feels so good to be desired.

I'm almost finished with my third drink. Mike's knee against mine and the intricate little designs he traces on my sensitive skin are feeling better by the moment. I pluck a cherry from my drink and gaze into his eyes while I slowly lift it towards my parted lips.

Suddenly I feel as if I'm being watched. I glance up in shock at the three men entering the bar. Greg and two of his friends are staring directly at me.

Greg's handsome face contorts with rage as he noted Mike's hand on me. If that isn't bad enough, one of the guys with him is David. Every person I know looks up to David, including me. Thankfully Karl, my brother, isn't with them too.

Greg releases a string of curse words. Still looking at me, David issues a command. The other guy nods and begins forcing Greg towards the door. David raises his hand and makes a quick "come here" gesture towards me. He only does it once before turning and heading outside.

You don't ignore David if you have any sense. He's a very smart man, wise enough to see that this confrontation shouldn't occur inside of a bar. I feel safer about joining them outside knowing he is there with Greg. I also feel ashamed that he will witness our argument.

I'm not sure exactly what I said to Mike. But it does the job; he doesn't try to follow me. Nervously, I approach the three men. Greg won't look at me.

I lick my lips and force myself to speak. "I just came here to get a drink. I was upset. You told me you were going to see your folks. I called you but you wouldn't answer your phone. I called their house and your sister answered. She told me you were with Brenda!"

I was crying now and furious at my display of weakness. Mike turns to me. His voice is cold, "So instead of waiting for me to return home and asking me what's up, you take off to a bar and climb into the lap of the first dude you see Kayla? What the fuck???"

"No, no, no! Fuck you Greg!!! I wasn't in his lap. He's just a stranger; I care less than nothing about him. Don't try to make this about me! You were with your ex! And this isn't the first time. You forgot me and Ginger are friends huh? Your sister doesn't keep secrets from me, unlike you!"

I angrily swipe at my tears before continuing. "I know how Brenda has come up with excuses all this time for your help. I know how you love to put on a fucking cape and fly to her rescue. How you tell me that you're helping your mom! I also know that while I was home waiting for you...in your bed, burning for you, praying for you to want me again, you were in her bed creating a baby!!!!!!!!!"

I raise my hands like claws and attack his face. I manage to get one scratch in before David grabs me and pulls me backwards until my backside presses against his front. His strong arms wrap around me.

I tremble in his arms. He bends his head and his beautiful dreads cascade protectively around my face. They smell like coconuts and crisp ocean water, a tropical escape. He whispers my name over and over again in a soothing voice, promising that everything is going to be alright. He keeps saying, "I got you Kayla, it's okay, I got you."

But everything sure the hell isn't okay. My boyfriend's horrible betrayal is bad enough. That's reason enough for me to tremble. But the pitiful truth is that isn't the only reason my body is shaking.

David never had to look at me with desire for me to want him. He is always a perfect gentleman but I carefully avoid spending much time around him. Because to me, he's the sexist man alive.

My heart is shredded to pieces by Greg. But my body is pressed against David's. I can't help but notice his magnetic presence, irresistible aroma, powerful arms, sensuous voice and lack of arousal. The intensity of my disappointment, considering all the more important issues I have to deal with, spoke of how un-fucking-alright things are.

David spins me around to face him. "Give me your keys," he demands. His nearness is a distraction that paired with my intoxication prevents me from thinking as quickly as I usually do.

"Keys???"

"Your car keys," he patiently clarifies.

"Oh! My car is at my place it's walking distance from here."

I turn around and start walking. David falls into stride beside me, placing a protective arm lightly across my shoulders. Neither of us turns as Greg calls out, pleading with me to stay and talk things over.

I wait until we are a block away from the bar before I asked David why they had showed up at that particular bar, were they looking for me? He tells me that Greg had called him because Ginger had found out about something Greg had done. Greg wanted David to come talk her out of telling me before he could tell me himself.

David hadn't questioned Greg, he just agreed to help. But when he arrived to talk to Ginger, he learned that the damage was already done. Whatever the secret was, Ginger had already told me.

David and their friend offered to take Greg back to his place to face me. They hadn't known I had left. Greg decided that he needed to stop first at a bar for a drink. They hadn't expected to run into me there. I stopped him when he tried to apologize. David wasn't the man that owed me an apology.

We arrive at my place. At the door, I thank David for seeing me home safely. His arm doesn't move from my shoulder.

"Kayla, I'm not letting you deal with this alone tonight."

"David please, you don't need to be here. I'm not going to do anything foolish, except sit and cry."

"Let me hold you while you cry."

I lean my forehead against his chest for a moment. He is such a good man. I step back and shake my head. "I don't want you to see me cry."

"I'll close my eyes while I hold you."

Amazingly, I find myself chuckling. It must be the alcohol. I don't stop him from following me inside.

He doesn't waste any time taking over. He asks if I have eaten and insists on fixing me something light after I tell him I am not hungry. I know it would be pointless to argue. I go to the bathroom.

After I relieve myself and wash my hands and face, I grab a box of tissues and go to my kitchen. I sit at my table.

David had prepared vegetable beef soup, cheese toast and a glass of ice water. "Here you go angel," he said as he places it before me.

"Thank you very much, but I'm no angel."

He laughs, "You may not think so, but I'll let you in on a secret. To me and everyone else that knows you, you are an angel."

I know what everyone thinks. But that isn't the real me. Why settle for just an awful night when I can have a horrendously shitty one? I decide to tell him the truth.

"That's just it; none of you know me anymore. I grew up and changed. I have a problem David. I think I'm addicted to sex."

He looks stunned. He's sitting across the table from me, eating cheese toast. He places the toast back on his plate and looks at me. "Talk," he says.

So I talk. I tell him my secret, everything except for parts involving him and my feelings for him. David met my brother Karl in college and has known us about ten years now. So some of what I say isn't new to him. But he listens without interrupting me. Greg was Karl's best friend since kindergarten. I'm only two and a half years younger than them so we kind of all hung with the same crowd as we grew older.

Everyone knew Greg had a crush on me. It was impossible to miss. So did half the guys we went to school with. I had been the center of attention since third grade, when I started wearing a bra.

Thankfully, my sexual awareness did not mature as rapidly as my body. I was proud of my virginity and didn't allow any guy to touch me. I cared about making my family proud, getting straight A's, and becoming a nurse.

I studied out of state at a college renowned for its School of Nursing. I lost my virginity my second year of college to a premed nerd. He was an adorably shy white guy with blonde hair and lovely green eyes. He was as inexperienced as me, but wonderfully smart and a focused, quick learner.

My body was very responsive to his touch from the beginning. He quickly learned how to pleasure me. The dormitory walls were paper thin. They could not conceal my cries of ecstasy every night. Half the girls on my floor knew he was sneaking in after visiting hours and fucking me senseless. They teased us both, but no one reported us so we didn't care.

We were creative. We did everything we could think of, anywhere we wanted to do it. Sex was this magical world everyone else knew about that we were just discovering. I was as enthusiastic and adventurous as him. Oral sex was our favorite outdoor activity. I would drop to my knees and open my mouth for his use anytime he asked. I wore skirts most of the time because he liked to return the favor. His blonde hair and pale skin were even more beautiful when he was nestled between my thighs and sunlight showed him off the best. The sight was as arousing for me as the sensations he evoked.

He was accepted to a medical school several states away. I was happy for him but sad that he was leaving. He spent every moment before he left inside of me. We called each other every night and our conversations left me feeling desperate and empty.

I was accepted into nursing school and poured myself into my education. He was, of course, being challenged by med school. My yearnings slowly faded and we gradually grew apart.

Near graduation, I was doing my clinical at a local hospital. I took my lunch break outside on a bench. A muscular black EMT was walking to his ambulance after a transport. He spotted me and walked over. His conversation was polite but just looking at him made me hot.

He had very dark skin that contrasted beautifully with his brilliant white teeth. My gaze was drawn to his long, calloused fingers as he toyed with his key ring. I literally felt those big, nimble fingers exploring inside of me with an intensity that left me breathless.

Some of what I felt must have been evident in my expression because he abruptly asked me out. I agreed to a movie date that night. I would have left with him that moment if he had asked.

It was a warm night. I wore a white top, tiny red shorts, and white high heel sandals. My fingernails and toenails were painted red. He took me to the theatre but I was only able to sit through half of the movie. Sitting in the dark with his thigh against my bare leg, hyper aware of his scent, body heat, and every breath he took was driving me crazy. I whispered to him that we had to leave.

He waited until we were in his car before questioning me. But I offered no explanation. I requested he take me to his place. He sat me on his sofa, took one look at my flushed face and rushed to his kitchen.

He returned quickly with a glass of water. I took it gratefully and drank every drop. He sat beside me and started again with the questions. I couldn't answer him. He'd think I was crazy. My desire for him was an actual, physical ache. I was hurting, dizzy, and queasy from the need to have him inside me.

I should have known then that something was wrong with me. But I dismissed it as my body's reaction to stress and going so long without sex. It had to be a flux in hormones or something. I was embarrassed but not enough to want to leave.

He placed his hand across my forehead as if checking for a fever. I closed my eyes to prevent him from seeing how his touch affected me. He had to be puzzled by my behavior but his worry lessened enough to remember that I was his date.

My eyes were still closed when his lips lightly brushed against mine. I melted and leaned back on the sofa. He followed me down, deepening the kiss. I lay with one sandal-clad foot resting on the sofa and one on the floor.

He settled between my legs probably hoping for some kisses and a little grinding with our clothes on before he took me home. My groan was loud and heartfelt as his weight pressed into my body and his jeans rubbed against my sensitive thighs. He shifted his hips slightly and I gasped out a hoarse, "Oh God!"

That's when he realized that I was hot for him. His mouth attacked mine. One hand drifted to my breasts, the other wedged itself between our bodies and settled lower. He touched the center seam of my shorts, caressing my pussy through the hot, wet fabric.

He pulled his mouth away from mine and pressed his hand firmly against the wetness, causing my pussy to jump. "Is this why you wanted to leave?"

I nodded my head in answer.

He slowly smiled and said I must want him bad. So I nodded again. He removed his hand from my shorts and grabbed both of my breasts while thrusting his hips between mine and demanded to know how badly I wanted him.

My eyes filled with tears and my lip trembled. He was going to make me beg for it. I had just met him today and I was going to have to beg him to fuck me.

He saw my expression and immediately became apologetic. He begged me not to cry and rained kisses all over my face. I felt immature, foolish and still painfully aroused as he lifted me and carried me to his bedroom.

I sat in the center of his bed sniffling and trembling with desire as he stood before me and slowly undressed. His body was magnificent. Every muscle was beautifully formed and his thick, well-shaped cock was hard enough to have been carved from stone. Looking at it, imagining it thrusting in and out of me made me whimper.

He slowly crawled across his bed towards me. He was obviously giving me a chance to stop him. I was frightened; I had only had one lover. But I wanted him too badly to change my mind.

When he reached me, he sat back on his heels and silently watched me. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I studied his eyes as they traveled over my body. He liked what he saw.

With a little more confidence, I reached behind my back and un-clasped my bra. My lips are pink, it seems logical to me that my nipples are the same color. But just like my first lover, he seemed fascinated that my huge, light brown breasts are capped by large pink nipples.

His eyes danced over my breasts. He licked his lips but remained still. I got up on my knees, unzipped my little shorts and peeled them off. I kneeled on his bed wearing my eyeglasses, a tiny black thong and sandals.

I removed my eyeglasses and sandals. I turned away from him and faced the headboard. I remained on my knees with my butt in the air and bent forward until my head and breasts rested upon the bed. I balanced my weight so that my hands could reach back to cup my cheeks and spread them apart. My poor soaked thong did little to conceal my pussy or asshole.

The bed shifted beneath me as he crawled closer. I held my position and didn't look back. I knew my reactions to his touch would be exaggerated but I still barely bit back my scream as he pulled aside my thong and licked me from hole to hole.

He turned so that he was flat on his back and slid his body so that his head was between my thighs. He helped me remove my thong then gripped my ass and pulled me down so that I sat on his face. His mouth devoured my enflamed pussy and I hoped my thighs covered his ears enough to muffle my loud moans. His hands caressed my breasts as his tongue fucked my pussy.

He sucked me through my first orgasm then turned my body so that I faced the foot of the bed. He shivered when my hand lightly stroked his cock but continued to French kiss my pussy. Soon I was leaning forward sucking his big juicy black cock as if it were the world's sweetest candy.

He stiffened beneath me and pulled my head away from his cock. He shoved me so that I fell back on the bed then pounced on top of me. His big hands parted my thighs and he impaled me on his fat cock.