The Empty Wal

(

Note to Readers:

All characters are more than 18 years old. One character is lesbian, but the sex isn't, given how it's performed. Thanks to PennameWombat and Jackie.O.Hikaru for beta-reading.)

***

"I hear you're a good pussy eater," said Trish, her grip on the beer bottle a bit unsteady. "Wanna prove it?"

It was 1:47 a.m. in the neighborhood two o'clock bar. I didn't know why I was still here. "So what do I get outta this?"

"Nothing," she said, and laughed. "I won't even tell anyone if you're any good. You munch my carpet, then clear out."

Through the fog into which I had drunk myself, I got interested in this exchange more for the haggling than the sex. Trish wasn't hot, in the instant sensory overload way, but she smoldered, and in a while you'd get just as ignited. But she was unavailable to me, in the sense that mattered right then.

"No dice," I said. I looked around the place. "I see three other guys in here you could pitch that offer to. Good luck."

"Bullshit," she said. She showed the smile that means she's having fun. Guess we both had some synapses working, despite the ethanol. "If you were okay doing the Empty Walk, you'd have left half an hour ago."

Okay, that was why I was still here. So I could talk with a tall, fit, strawberry-blonde lesbian who, like me, had no options.

This was the third time in two weeks we'd both rolled in here around 1 a.m.

Each knew that this wasn't the other's first stop that night.

I counter-offered. "We both get naked. While I eat you out, I play with your tits and jerk myself off."

She narrowed her eyes. "You think I'm okay with male orgasms?" she said, the smile not completely gone.

We hadn't just guessed that the other would show up here. We'd hoped for it. We had slipped easily into chatting on common interests, like whether the Bears should trade up in the draft, and shortcuts for coding in Linux.

I'd never been here with Melanie. She thought neighborhood bars were boring.

Trish, now deadpan, revised her offer. "You eat me out. If I cum, I'll take off my top. Look but don't touch. Jerk off into a condom, and keep it on 'til after you leave. No spooj ever in my apartment."

"Deal," I said, extending my hand.

She didn't take it. "I leave alone. Wait five minutes before you pursue me." She told me her address, and I confirmed that I could find the place.

Again with the fun smile, she dug some paper money out of her jeans, left it on the bar, and slid off the stool. Her carriage was steady. Her hazel eyes showed the alertness of a woman who was about to walk alone in the dark. I wondered if she had pepper spray in her fanny pack.

When she opened the door at her place, there was no fun smile. Her look was, I don't know, morose? Was she sobering up?

I didn't feel all that great myself, but there were some endorphins bubbling. My Empty Walk was at least delayed a little.

My hand wanted to go to Trish's cheek, to caress it, to give comfort, to ease her part of what we both felt...

"Where do we do this?" I asked tonelessly.

"Sofa," she said. "You, on the floor."

She had a nice place, with decor and art that Melanie would have liked. Maybe Melanie bought some of it, and left it here.

If Trish could endure living with that stuff, I should be able to put up with it for an hour.

I knelt facing the sofa, leaning between Trish's bare, spread legs. She let me push back the coffee table to give myself room.

I set my hands on her knees as I leaned in. She moved my hands away, firmly but not roughly. I said nothing about how this might mess with what I did for her.

She didn't stop me from resting my chin at her perineum, with my cheeks pressed against her thighs.

The scent of her groin made my indrawn breath shiver.

I closed my mouth on her vulva and started licking, slowly.

For a while, nothing much happened. I felt no muscle tension from her. When my tongue got inside her hood, her clit was soft and barely detectable. I couldn't hear her breathing. I made myself ignore the pubic hair getting between my teeth.

I'm not a big fan of cunnilingus, but I have no problem with it. I've learned that the lady can appreciate effort beyond plain tongue-lapping. I slid my lips, soft then stiff then soft, along Trish's labia. Her trunk moved slightly as I did that. I rolled the tongue, then flattened it, angled it, stiffened it to get between the inner labia, while I pressed my upper lip inside her clit hood.

I heard a low murmur.

Two fingers pushed at my lip. I gave them access to her clit, and shifted the lip to join the tongue at her inner labia. I licked between them, then between the inner and outer on each side.

I heard her softly say "Yeah."

Only then did my dick start to stiffen.

I wondered if Melanie had enjoyed doing this for her, or only felt obligated.

To paraphrase a certain Russian-born comedian: In my country, baggage claims you.

I licked faster, firming the tongue to push deeper inside. Her breathing got rougher when I did that. A thigh muscle went taut along my jawline.

My hand that had wanted to caress Trish's cheek, and then was exiled from her knee, now wanted to push deep into her cleft, to find for her the joy she shared only with women. How could Trish be as discarded, as empty-walking, as I was? Forget Melanie. Who could reject Trish in a lez pickup joint, and why?

In a hoarse whisper she said "Clit," and her fingers retreated. Shifting to a vertical lick from her labia, my tongue felt a firm growth behind her hood. I tongued all around it, drooled on it, then sucked back the drool before licking out more. Her arousal thrilled me, maybe a contact high, maybe a tropism from my sex with other women, but maybe also knowing that I was doing good for somebody.

My dick pushed my pants hard, seeking escape. I yearned for it to find a different, glorious confinement.

Now both thighs had me in a vise grip. "More, damn it!" Trish barked. Her trunk jerked up. I craned my neck trying to keep contact. She grabbed my head with both hands, to press me on her as she undulated.

She got more, damn it. From tongue and lips, and even teeth, grazing and sliding. My biggest problem was keeping my hands away from her skin and my own.

I heard her hair swaying as her head jerked. She gave out strangled yelps. Strain grew in my jaw as I licked and slurped, my nose bending on her pubic bone. Her nails weren't long, but they dug into my scalp. I was now cramped more than stoked, but I kept on.

Yes, I was a good pussy eater. I had to be. In each of my last three almost-relationships, I couldn't get my partner off by penetrating. In time we agreed that I would first eat her out to orgasm, then I'd fuck her. That got us to physical satisfaction, and gave me lots of practice. Other reasons pushed us apart. They easily overcame reasons to stay together.

Melanie wasn't the only one who wanted more than my cock. But she was the one who wanted both more and different.

I was still licking hard when I realized Trish had stopped moving. I heard a murmur: "She was right."

One hand left my head, and the other stroked my hair gently. "You can stop now, Rick," she said with a chuckle.

I slumped, my torso reeling back from her. She flopped, her head lolling on the back of the sofa.

In time she said, "I got greedy. I came twice. Hey, been a long time, don't know how long 'til next time."

I felt so damn smug. "Should you be telling me this?"

Her head lifted enough to show me a fun smile. "No. Now I'll have to kill you."

"If I brag, you can always deny," I said. Her smile revived my erection. I undid my belt. "This shouldn't cost you your L-card."

I think, for a few seconds there, we were the only people in the room, and enjoyed that.

Trish pulled off her sweatshirt. Medium, side-slumping breasts. Ohgodohgodohgod how I wanted them. Somehow my mouth found a way to produce more drool.

Her expression was serious now. She watched as I stripped my lower half.

I got out my wallet. The condom had been in there more than a month.

Looking like she wanted her better judgment back, Trish patted the sofa cushion next to her.

I sheathed my prick in latex, then set my naked butt beside hers.

"You can decide I'm rewarding you," she said. "I can decide I feel guilty about exploiting you. You may put mouth and hands on them unless I tell you to stop."

Could this have been more awkward? My nearly numb mouth settled on her near breast, my inside arm bent beneath it to get the hand on her far breast, and my free hand yanked my sausage.

I was ready to get this done right away, and that sure could have happened. But in a gentle tone, Trish said, "You can make it last." Her breathing didn't indicate that this was doing anything for her. "Like I did."

So I prolonged this for maybe two minutes, getting fingertips onto my balls, tenderly kissing a nipple, and gently squeezing her heavenly texture. In the end, though, I was just a guy jerking off. Grunting, howling, spasming. Not a great advertisement for the male orgasm, in aesthetic terms. But it felt terrific.

Once we stood up and started dressing, we made no further contact.

I gazed openly at her body, no longer slouched on the sofa, sleek when standing tall.

She saw, and didn't object.

"Don't you just hate the bar scene?" I asked.

"Apps are worse," she said. "In person, I can find deal-breakers."

My zipped-up pants kept the condom in place. "So you start as a pessimist."

"That way, a surprise can only be pleasant."

I wanted to know if she felt better, because now I did, a little. "Which matters more?" I asked. "Scratching the itch or thrilling your heart?"

This smile wasn't her fun one. It seemed...to lower a barrier. "Rick, which mistake would you rather make?"

I think I caught her drift. "The one that will be gone tomorrow." That had, in fact, been on my mind hours earlier, when I ended a conversation with a woman despite liking her looks.

She pulled her sweatshirt down her torso. "So, you're finding the same deal-breakers."

I think she did feel better. A little. And that, earlier that night, she had done the rejecting.

"Sure hope we never do this again," said Trish, her voice oddly upbeat. I half-expected a wink, but there was none.

"Yeah, that'd be terrible," I said, smirking. "Think of what that would say about our lives."

With the fun smile she said, "Get out of my apartment."

On the sidewalk, I had a thought that I found funny, before it could become disgusting. Because of what we'd done, this Walk wasn't entirely Empty. Especially from what was still inside my shorts.