Filling Holes

It was their last night together before Tim would return home. She wanted him to stay longer. What they had was exactly what she needed, it filled a hole she never knew was there. Having a man, especially a strong man like Tim, at home woke feelings inside of Rhian that she didn’t really understand. Safe? No, that wasn’t quite right. Protected? Maybe.

Her colleagues at the university would mock her if they found out how, after so little time with Tim, what she had been transformed into. The temptation was strong to plead for him to stay, just so she could feel him near to her. It was also there to dote on him, try to earn his affection, his attention. It was like she didn’t even know herself!

But begging would have been all for naught. Tim had been firm, and so she respected his wishes.

“I have to deal with Nancy and Vanessa,” he had told her, “I need some time to figure out how to make it work.”

He was right, of course. He had promised that he would make it work, and if she demanded that he stay she would just be acting selfish, only thinking of her own needs. Tim needed to have his own time. He needed to keep his promises. He needed to see his other girlfriends.

And so Rhian decided to make the best of it, enjoy the time she had with Tim, which meant making the evening memorable. Sex and studying seemed to be what Tim liked, something Rhian could work with. It was much earlier than the day before, so while she started on a home-cooked meal, she suggested that Tim hit the books.

That had taken some self-control, cooking before ravaging her new lover. It didn’t help that he had worn an extremely short pleated skirt, white blouse, tie, knee socks and high heeled Mary Janes, some sort of schoolgirl outfit that made him look like something out of a beefcake calendar. Just looking at him had made Rhian wet.

But then, on the drive home, he had been relentless. Giggling at her jokes, rubbing her leg, complimenting her looks, her wit, all the while slowly unbuttoning his blouse. It was like he wanted her to crash!

So when they got back to the apartment, Rhian **** herself to think of things other than sex. Grading papers, taking out the garbage, her grandmother, all things that she found unsexy. It had worked. It gave her just enough willpower to work before she got to play.

“Did you see Nancy today?” Rhian asked after serving the meal. It was a recipe for coddle and soda bread that her mother had taught her before she passed (God rest her soul).

“Yes, and she agrees,” Tim said, “She thinks that talking to her mother might work.”

“But what do you think?”

“I think I’ll try it,” Tim said, then took a bite of sausage, chewed, and swallowed, “This is really good!”

“Thanks,” Rhian said, swallowing a bite as well, “Living alone, I don’t get a chance to make a nice big meal for anyone. This was one of my favourites growing up.”

“I can see why,” he said, taking another bite.

Rhian loved having a man in the house. That night would be heavenly, but the next, her first night alone in two days, would be hell. Her big, cold, empty apartment, her big, cold empty bed; just the thought of it made her heart ache. But she pushed the feelings of premature loss aside and focused on the present.

They ate, had a few drinks, shared a few laughs. He really was quite the engaging dinner partner. Not to mention a shameless flirt. Before they had started dating, Rhian had noticed the way he would uncross and recross his long, smooth legs when she would notice him. Or his he would wink at her while playing with the buttons on his blouse.

Now that they were dating, though, it was much worse. Sexual innuendos were constantly being dropped. Buttons were constantly being undone. Before she had assumed it was to curry favour for better grades, but now? Now Rhian knew it was for her, not for what she could give him.

Dinner done, Rhian cleared up, insisting that Tim stay seated for desert. That was how she found herself under the table, her head buried in Tim’s skirt, his cock in her mouth. It was incredible. Not because she particularly liked the taste of his cock, nor the flavour of his sperm.

No, what she loved was the feeling of intimacy she felt as her face pressed into Tim’s hairless groin. No other woman in the world in that moment knew the colour if Tim’s panties, the feel of his pleated skirt in the back of her neck, the rub of his veined cock against her tongue. Yes, Rhian knew that a life with Tim would be a life of sharing, but right then, in that apartment on that evening, Tim was all hers. And as she lifted her head from his erection in order to let him spray his cum on her face and in her red hair, something she had heard that men like, she looked forward to a night of Tim filling all her holes, not just on her body, but also in her heart.