God, I’m pissed, Otis dumped me with no reason given; it's just over. And a few days later, his Facebook page shows him out with Sharon. Jesus, Sharon, of all people to dump me for. What a bitch! Ever since high school, we’ve been enemies—class-one enemies. It hasn’t let up ten years later.

Have you ever seen the movie Girls in Heat? Well, I haven’t either, but I can imagine what it’s about. How many guys can I fuck this summer? Five, ten, twenty, fucking twenty guys sounds about right.

As I cooled off, I started my plan. I talked to my two best friends, Loran and Ginny, about it. It took some convincing, but eventually I talked them into helping me.

I started the first day of summer, June 21st, by going to Midtown Bar with music and dancing with the three of us.

When I walked in, I started looking for my first victim, um, target. He’s possible; no, he’s too short. Maybe him at the back? No, no, too cute. I’m looking for a manly man. Tall enough to be taller than me in my heels, well-built enough to be mistaken for a football player, and good-looking enough to want to kiss in the sunlight. Oh, and not with a girl too; I don’t want to be Sharon.

I saw the perfect guy standing at the bar. So I sashayed over to him so casually with lots of hip movement, when I lost my balance and fell into him, spilling his beer. SHIT. 

He helped me up, saying, “Are you okay? Did you hurt your hip or something?”

“No, no, I’m fine. There must be a rough spot.” I looked down at the perfect hardwood floor. “Or maybe not.”

"Here, let me replace your drink.” I waved to the bartender, "Whatever he was drinking,” waving at the guy I’d run into. After a lot of “I’ll pay for it” and “it was my fault,” eventually I left to retreat to the far corner with Loran and Ginny without paying for anything.

Ginny looked at me, laughing, “That went well, didn’t it? Did you at least get his name?”

“Not funny, Ginny, not funny at all. No, I didn’t. He was the guy I had my eyes on for my first revenge fuck. Hell.

“Unless someone shows up, there’s no one interesting here, so let's just have a fun time.”

So ended my first attempt to get back at Otis Bastard and Sharon Bitch. We did end up having a good time dancing, drinking, and annoying the “boys.”

A couple of days later, the girls and I went to The Viper Pit, a much more edgy music dancing place. We walked in, and I looked around, looking for targets for my revenge. It was dark, so at first we walked around checking it out. There were lots of single guys, not married, but not many single single guys. There were a few packs of guys, ranging from three to a couple groups of ten or so. The large groups barely looked legal for sex, much less legal drinking.  I started to approach some of the smaller groups, but no, just no. There was no one I was interested in talking to, much less getting naked with.

We started dancing, and after a few drinks, Ginny was twirling me, and I ran into a guy and knocked him and his partner down to the floor. When I helped them up, I discovered it was The Perfect Guy from Midtown Bar.

Shit, not the same guy. No way, not possible. But it obviously was.

“I’m sorry, we seem to run into each other, don’t we? Um, are you okay?”

“I’m fine; at least this time I’m not holding a beer. Right?”

He and his girlfriend headed off somewhere to hide from me, I was sure. I headed back to my little group and pretended I hadn’t embarrassed myself. Again!

We did a little more dancing, and we cut our losses and left. The last thing Ginny said as we left was, “Third time's the charm; next time you’ll get his name and number for sure.”

Right. Sometimes I hate Ginny; at least Loran kept her mouth shut.

I checked out the Otis Bastard and Sharon Bitch's Facebook pages. They were both full of wonderful things O/B and S/B were doing together, things we’d never done. I wanted to kill someone, or at least bitch slap Sharon. I had to get some pictures up with someone, anyone.

We decided to retry the Midtown Bar and see if we’d get better results. We came in and looked, and nope, The Perfect Guy wasn’t to be seen. Great. I started dancing, kind of by myself, just to see if someone might approach me, when I twirled and my arms hit him in the face. Not him again; it couldn’t be him. It was, The Perfect Guy. Hell in a basket.

“Look, whoever you are, quit getting close to me. It’s just too dangerous. Hell, quit following me around; just quit it.” I was shouting at him and making a scene. Ginny and Loran were slinking off with 'Who is that girl?' looks on their faces.

My best friends were embarrassed by me. Shit in a handbag.

I closed my eyes, took a breath, and started over. "Look, I’m sorry for exploding like that. God, can we sit somewhere, and maybe I can apologize?"

He led me to a table where there were a couple of guys sitting, and he told them to go to the bar and leave us alone.

As I sat down, he offered to get me something to drink. Why, after my scene, who knows? Maybe because he’s a nice guy? I asked for a glass of Pinot Gris, and he left for the bar.

By the time he got back, I was under control but mortified. I took my glass and took a sip and started, “Ah, I’m Samara, Samara Wells, and I guess I lost my cool. Um, no, I guess I freaked out. My friends are here hiding, so no one connects us together.

“I’ve been upset because my ex-boyfriend dumped me with no reason given. Then he picks up with this big tit slut, and they’re doing all this fun crap and posting it on Instagram. So I decide I’m going to find some wonderful guy, and, um, hell, what I was going to do was fuck half of the guys our age in town. Stupid, right?”

I looked around, looking for Ginnie and Loran. They were still hiding.

He looked at me with a smile on his face and said, “I’m Don Adams, Donavan, actually. So, how long has it been since this started, since, um, JerkFace dumped you?" He asked.

I interjected, “It’s Otis JerkFace.”

"Okay, then, Otis JerkFace, how long has it been since he dumped you?” He continued.

“Three weeks ago, last Friday, he was dating Sharon Bitch by Saturday. Noon. Their second date,” I said.

“So how far have you gotten in your quest?" He asked.

“Quest?”

“Yeah, you were going to fuck half the guys our age. Right? So how far?”

I looked at him sheepishly and said, “I haven’t really started yet.”

I haven’t started because it was a stupid idea. Getting back at them by fucking a bunch of guys is class-A stupid.

"Um, I’m probably not going to. I guess I’ve decided it's stupid to try to get back at them that way,” I said. “Um, I keep running into the same guy and making a fool of myself.”

No, I didn’t say that. Absolutely, I didn’t. Nope, I wouldn’t do that.

I looked at him, and I realized, yes, I could and did. Hell. “Have you seen Ginnie or Loran?” I said, looking around.

Nope, they’re still hiding, cowards, leaving me here alone with The Perfect Guy.

“Ginnie and Loran?” He asked, "Why, do they carry around signs with their names?”

"No, of course not. What the hell?” I answered indignantly, “Why would they do that?"

He laughed and said, “How else am I going to recognize two women I don’t know?"

I’m talking to Perfect Guy; I'm actually talking to him, and so far no disasters, except for my verbal diarrhea disaster.

“Um, P.G., those guys you chased off—they're your friends? Maybe Ginnie and Loran will come out of hiding, do you think? What’s your name? Do you dance? Do you come here often?”

Hell, talk about verbal diarrhea; could it get worse?

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Whoa, slow down. Taking them in order: yes, maybe, Don, yes and no. There, I think that's all of them. Though I told you my name before," he laughed again. “That’s one down; do you see your friends?”

There they are, hiding by the bar. Cowards.

"Yeah, they’re over there by the bar,” I said, waving them over.

“Meet Don,” I said to the girls, and then to Don, “Invite your friends back too, Don.”

So we ended up with six people sitting around a table for two. Dorian and Scott were Don’s friends.

Soon we were talking, getting to know each other, and then suddenly Don and I were alone at the table. Scott was dancing with Ginnie, and Dorian was dancing with Loran.

I’m alone with The Perfect Guy, LLC. I wonder … I’d intended to fuck him.

“What did you say? I didn’t catch it,” I asked him. “I was just daydreaming, I guess.”

I got caught thinking about fucking him. What would it be like to have him undress me and touch me? Would I enjoy running my fingers across his chest and kissing him? I need to focus. Did he say something about dancing?

“Let’s stay here talking; I’d like to get to know you,” I said. I took his hand in mine and held it, palm up, tracing the lines in his palm.

We were talking about work when Don suddenly changed the subject. “Did you come together? You and your friends.”

When I nodded, he added, “I have my car; should we adjourn this to my place?” He leaned over and kissed me. Before I could answer, he pulled me to my feet, and his hand caressed my ass and kissed me again. On our way out, I texted Ginny and Loran to tell them I was leaving with The Perfect Guy, with some assorted emojis.

This is what I want: a man who knows what he wants. I feel like a bitch in heat; I want him so badly.

When we got to his car, I had to stop and kiss him, and as I did it, I pulled his shirt out of his pants so I could touch his skin. I was molding myself around his hard body, melting against him. When I kissed him, my tongue was invading his mouth, and my nails were leaving marks on him. 

I’d never felt this way before, ever. He was doing wonderful things to me.

I want him. I want him naked against me, rubbing against me. His cock, his cock entering me, his naked body on top of me. I want him to control me. I’ve never felt so submissive before. I want to lose control and just accept what he wants.

“Don, Don, please, when we get to your place, I want … I need you to just take me. Please, I want you to control me. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ve never felt this way, but I want to submit to you, Don. Take what you want, what you need."

I heard what I said, and I was cringing inside as I heard it. Don reacted differently; he was holding my door open, and he unbuttoned my blouse, removed it, and then unfastened my bra. I felt his vision on my tits, and it was wonderful. They were exposed to his eyes, and they were feasting on them.

I could feel him looking at me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and it was awesome and exhilarating. My nipples were hard as pebbles, and my pussy was wet in anticipation. He gave me one final kiss and a light touch to my tits. Then he closed my door and walked around to the driver's side.

“I can do whatever I want with you. I can do anything I want to you, is that right?” He looked at me and grinned. “That includes a lot of territory; you know that, right?”

“Yes, Don, yes. Anything I want to submit, I don’t promise I’ll always be like this, but right now, anything, don’t ask, just do it."

He slowed down when he was by a park and stopped, got out, walked around and opened my door. When he helped me out, he kissed me, and I felt him unbuttoning my slacks. He pulled them off, with my panties too. Then he led me into the park and laid me down in full view of the street.

Was this included in anything? God yes. My legs are trembling. Yes, I’ll let him take me here. Being fucked in the open in a park—that's what I need. I never knew it, but it was perfect. I want his cock.

I was looking up at him as he took off his shirt and then his trousers. His cock was hard and projecting up, looking dangerous. He kneeled beside me and started sucking on my tits, then started kissing me, and as his lips moved south, they approached my pussy. I started shifting to encourage him.

Yes, yes. Don, more, more.

I was so aroused, I’d forgotten where we were—in a park, in the open. Then I heard cars go by, slowing as they did. It didn’t slow him down, and his tongue took possession of my pussy. I couldn’t stop him; I didn’t want to stop him; I wanted more. I knew I was saying something, but I had no idea what. This continued until I couldn’t take any more, then I heard myself say, “Please take me now; your cock belongs inside me. Don.”

He positioned himself, with his cock just touching my entrance. I stopped breathing as he slowly pushed inside, and I gave a gasp as I started breathing again.

He started stroking inside me, and when he started moving faster and harder, I could feel my climax approaching closer and closer, and when it hit, I clenched all my vaginal muscles. I screamed, and as I was screaming, I felt him release inside me.

That was when I heard a car slow and stop. So they could watch. When he rolled off me and lay beside me, they drove off. We were both breathing hard, and when we recovered, Don picked up his clothes, and we both walked naked back to his car.

We sat there, absorbing what had happened.

I’m still in heat, but just for the Perfect Guy. I’m going to want him again and again. Maybe forever.