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Cardiac Arrest - Part 2 - Trying to forget

As their love swells and grows, our lovers find themselves becoming increasingly pulled apart.
Trying to forget - Part Two of "Cardiac Arrest"

The next morning came, as John found himself enjoying a longer lay in than usual. His head throbbed and pounded as he rose. He looked back at his sleeping girlfriend. He still wasn't feeling anything for her. All he could think about was Tasha.

Through his weariness, he thought he could see Tasha, laying there, filled up with his juices, smiling, satisfied, and full of love for him. He loved that in his mind, Tasha wanted to share all of her love with him, and appreciate him.

John crept out of the room as he slowly felt a throbbing in his loins. He locked the bathroom door as he began stroking and pulling at his member as it grew harder and longer in his hand. He was biting his lip as he rubbed and tugged harder and harder. He could feel himself throbbing more and more as the sensation intensified.

"Boom!" he heard, as the bathroom door thudded. "What are you doing in there?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"I know what you're doing, open the door."

John hoped for a repeat of last night, as he opened the door. His member throbbed towards the sky, as he stood there. He moved towards her, gripping the base of the shaft.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"I thought maybe we could..."

"Could what?" she interrupted. "I'm not in the mood. Surely last night should've been enough for you."

John knew it wasn't, as the once erect member he was so proudly holding moments ago, began to fade. He didn't want to make love to her. He wanted to savagely thrust himself inside her. He found himself full of sexual aggression. He wanted to be rough with her, and treat her like a whore. He didn't love her, but now he felt he'd got back his sexual prowess, he wanted to re-hone his powers, perfecting each stroke and push. He was doing this for Tasha. He didn't want to disappoint her, if he ever got the chance. The way that his advances had been rebuffed had shattered him.

John moved out of her way as she walked into the bathroom. As he left, she slammed the door shut. This wasn't just the simple closing of a door; it was her slamming the door shut on their relationship.

Tasha wasn't in the best shape either, she had found her way home, and had somehow managed to climb into bed, and woke fully dressed. She had cried herself to sleep. She loved John, but she just couldn't tell him. Her phone vibrated as she found a text from him.

Her lips curved into a smile as she read, "How are you? Hope you got home ok?"

She loved the fact that he cared so much. No man had ever cared that much for her. He was a gentleman. She knew that his heart and loins had ached after her so long, but his shyness was cute; and he could never tell her. She had longed for someone like him for so long, but she felt that he could never treat her this way, knowing of all the men she'd been with since they'd known each other. She felt like a whore; worthless, cheap, and a liar. She felt her eyes fill as she remembered the events from the previous night. How could he walk away so freely. He'd even looked back and saw her standing there, sobbing. Perhaps he wasn't the white knight on a steed that she'd dreamed of. Perhaps he was only interested because he knew she was so easy to jump into bed with the first guy who gave her some attention.

She ignored John's text, broken by his actions from last night. What she didn't know, was that if John would've heard her, he would've walked straight up to her and kissed her. He wouldn't have taken her home and thrown her around the room, as much as he'd have wanted to. He'd have lain there, holding her, making her feel safe and warm. He would've gently rubbed at her arms, stroking her neck and her back. He would've caressed her with his lips, dominantly kissing her, gently grasping her chin as he caressed her tongue with his. He would've laid awake and waited for her to close her eyes and gently drift off to sleep.

Tasha didn't know this, and she would never have believed it, even if she'd been told. She called up some girl friends and suggested a night on the tiles was in order.

John checked his phone every five minutes, convinced that it had vibrated in his pocket. It hadn't. And it wasn't going to either.

Tasha found herself in a club, surrounded by girlfriends. As the drink flowed, she smoked cigarette after cigarette, moving further and further into a drunk oblivion. She was trying to forget about John, but she was failing miserably. Her friend whispered to her what the matter was, and Tasha told her. Her friend offered her a small bit of advice.

"The best way to get over a bloke, is to get straight under another one! That bloke over there's been eying you up all night, invite him over. Tell him to bring some mates, they might even by us all a round of drinks!"

Tasha did as she was told, necking the last of her drink.

He was a tall, dark, attractive South American man. Muscular, ripped, with a shaved head and pencil beard. They talked for a while, as he bought her drink after drink. He kissed her neck as she pulled back.

"I don't even know your name" she said.

"Carlos," he replied. "Shall we get out of here?"

Tasha had never hesitated before, but she felt her heart strings tug her back. She looked over to her friend, who nodded and smiled.

She grabbed her coat and left with Carlos. He gestured for a cab, which pulled up. She fell into the cab, feeling worse for wear. The fresh air had definitely had an effect on her as it mixed with her boozed up state.

Carlos kissed her as the cab began the drive home. The cab driver watched in his mirror, as he watched Carlos' hand rise up her leg, and under her skirt. His fingers teased at her. He licked his finger before placing it at her slit. Pushing his fingers forcefully inside as he kissed her. She was reluctant at first, but let him have his way.

The cab driver was losing concentration as he focused on Carlos and Tasha. He could see that one of her breasts was peeping out, as Carlos had unbuttoned her shirt. He could feel himself getting hotter, and swerved to avoid a parked car as he felt himself ejaculate inside his pants.

They arrived at Carlos' house.

The driver said, "No charge," as they exited.

He pulled away slowly, looking at her in his rear view mirror. He thought she wasn't the most attractive girl he's seen in his cab, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he would do to her if she'd invited him in. That was payment enough, and he was embarrassed at how easily he'd came, without even a single touch. Tasha looked up at the cab, as his rear lights became tiny red dots on the horizon at the end of Carlos' road.

Carlos fumbled his key into the lock, filled with a heightened sense of anticipation. He couldn't wait to be inside her.

They stumbled upstairs as their clothing fell to the floor, piece by piece. He tried to kiss her. She declined, pulling away. He could tell her body was saying "get on with it." Her body was talking to him. He didn't care, he ignored it as he thrust himself inside of her. He pounded her harder and harder, calling her a slut, pulling her hair, and telling her to spit on his large, darkened throbbing member.

He rolled her onto her front, as he pulled her cheeks apart. He knew exactly where he wanted to go next. Her eyes filled with tears as the surprise overcame her. He was inside her anus, forcefully pushing all of his member inside her. The pain made her feel like the slut she was. She was uncomfortable throughout, but knew that she was no better than this. She accepted it, and let him push deeper and deeper inside her, as she could feel his hips pounding at her buttocks.

He pinned her down as he came inside her. His juices fell from between her cheeks as he withdrew from her. This was a new experience to her. Not only was she uncomfortable, but she didn't know exactly what to do as his juices continued flowing from her anus.

She asked him to call for a cab. She wanted to get home. He did, and tucked himself into bed, sleeping. He didn't care. She wasn't interested in anything else, and he'd fulfilled his urge. Carlos had only gone out for a drink with friends, hoping he could find someone to fuck.

The cab arrived and Tasha left, arriving home shortly after. She quietly crept in, not wanting to wake her housemate. She'd sobered up quickly during her anal insertion. She showered, washing the smell of sex off of her body. She didn't feel any better. She knew if John had been exploring her body, he would be gentle, and loving, making sure she was ok at every point. She cried herself to sleep, thinking of John; reading his texts again and again, until the tears that filled her eyes made it difficult to read.

Monday morning arrived. Both John and Tasha decided not to mention the nights that they had both had. Tasha told John she'd forgot to text him back, and then her phone was broken. John didn't care. He seemed distant. Nobody wanted him. He knew she'd been out with someone else. He couldn't exactly go home and get revenge by having love-less sex.

When work finished, John drove Tasha home, like he did every night. He tried not to look at her, for fear of falling in love with her deeper and deeper. He knew what she'd done. And she didn't want to look at him for fear of embarrassment at what she'd done. They made small talk, mainly about work, and things that they'd seen on the TV.

They arrived at her house.

She said "Thanks darling, you're so good to me. What would I do without you?"

He loved it when she called him by pet names. She always did, and she only ever said them to him.

He smiled at her, "Anytime babes. It's always a pleasure... Never a chore."

He winked at her as she closed the door. He watched her walk to her door, and waited until she was inside before taking one last look at her watching him as he pulled away.

They couldn't forget each other. They were looking forward to seeing each other again.

The days passed, as they returned to their old ways, calling each other names, gently bumping into each other and gamely hitting each other's arms. These were the flirtatious games they'd remembered. And it felt good. They felt great, and it was always a sad time of the day when he dropped her off. Parting was such sweet sorrow.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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