Something About Him

(MF Mdom Rom)

There was something about him. I knew it the moment I saw him, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Some would have said it was his looks. His hair was short and black, his eyes were a dark, dark brown and his skin was just the healthy side of pale. He wore a tight black T-shirt and leather pants which stretched over his body and displayed what lay underneath. He was leaning forward, chin in hand, a serious expression on his face.

And maybe that was it. He could have been lost in concentration or just waiting for lunch, but he did it with a sense of purpose. I felt that he knew what he was doing, why he was doing it, and what he was trying to accomplish. And there was something attractive about that.

So, while I had come to the restaurant to get some lunch, I found myself walking over to him. I was going to say, “Hi,” and introduce myself. Maybe get his name and give him my phone number. If I was lucky, maybe he would even call me back.

When I got to his table, he was still as a statue. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but before I could speak, he said, “What?” Just that, nothing else. I paused at his apparent irritation, uncertain what to say. My words fled as I stood there, silent.

But there was still something about him. His voice was deep and resonant; his single-word question wasn’t mockery or sarcastic. Yet it demanded an answer. “Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered, confused, trying to regain my mental faculties.

He turned and looked at me for the first time. His gaze met mine, then lowered as he examined my body, appraising me. His eyes met mine again, and he asked, “What do you want?” Again his gaze traveled over me. I could feel it as it caressed my breasts, slid over legs, and finally, pierced me between my thighs. What was it about this man?

“You don’t know?” He asked almost mockingly. “You walked over here to speak to me and you don’t know why? Is this a common problem? Do you know what you want about anything? How about your job? Your life? Do you want the nice little husband and the two-point-five kids, or do you want something else? Do you even know? Is that the real problem?” Again he wasn’t mocking, it was almost as if he really wanted to know if it was true, did I know what I wanted. And, suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I could tell him.

He asked me again, more forcefully this time, “What do you want?”

The question echoed inside of me. What did I want? Not what I had, certainly. A lousy job, a non-existent social life. I realized to my dismay that I had no idea what I wanted to fill my empty life with. “I don’t know,” I whispered, despairingly.

“Humph,” he said, and turned back in his seat, resuming his previous posture. Ignoring me.

I returned to my seat, and collapsed in my chair. My salad arrived, and I ate it slowly, ponderously. I tried to think about what I wanted, but all I could focus on was what I didn’t have — like him, for instance.

Occasionally, I’d glance up at him, but he was always in the same position. When his food arrived, he at it quickly and deliberately, and left. I finished a few minutes later, and went back to my worthless job.

That night, I masturbated for over two hours. I wasn’t horny, I was empty. I had to keep the loneliness away. It had been getting worse and worse lately, and today, with the man from the restaurant… Well, he figured prominently in my fantasies. He took me, lifting my legs up and back, pressing my body beneath him. He plunged his huge cock deep into my cunt, over and over, all the while staring at me with his intense gaze, boring into my soul.

And in my fantasy, for just a moment, I knew that finally, I wasn’t alone.

I came again and again, over and over, until I fell asleep, exhausted, my hand still pressed against my crotch.

That was the first day I saw him.

I woke to the incessant buzzer of my alarm the next morning. After all the activity of the last night, I had a deep and dreamless sleep. My body and mind resisted the need to rise, to get ready to go to work. To get on with my lousy life.

I thought back to the night before, and felt the emptiness creep in again, and I brushed my hand over my bush, idly opening my pussy lips. It sent a small shock through my inner void, and I shook my head. I had to get up, I couldn’t lay here all day and play with myself. But the image of him lingered in my mind, his gaze piercing me at lunch, his cock piercing me in my fantasies. My cunt clenched, and I forced myself out of bed.

Robotically, I prepared for my day, until I got to selecting my clothes. I pulled out a low-cut blouse, and wondered if he’d appreciate the view in that one. That was when I realized I was planning on eating at the same restaurant again today. That was when I realized how bound up in his web I’d become.

Did he do anything to deserve my confusion or my passion? Or did he just stumble over some trigger, some thing lying dormant in me that realized that something, anything had to change. Maybe he was just the most convenient target; maybe anything that set me off kilter would have caused this. But I couldn’t shake it: there was something about him.

So I dressed in my most revealing business clothes, and went to work. I don’t want to say much about it, it was Hell just like always. The only thing that got me through the stupid meetings and tasks of the morning was thinking about him, being at the restaurant today. I didn’t allow myself to consider the most likely prospect: that he wouldn’t be there at all.

So at lunch, I left my desk a few minutes early, primped a bit in the ladies’ room, and walked to the restaurant. I sat at the same table I was at the day before, ordered the same thing, and waited.

And, of course, he didn’t come. With each second that ticked, each minute that passed, the emptiness inside me grew and filled. When I had finished my salad, I stole back into a private stall in the ladies’ room, lifted my skirt, and slid my hand inside the scoop-necked blouse. I cried, and masturbated, trying to remember my fantasies from the night before, unable to see his face above me, unable to feel his cock inside me.

I finally came, and with the infusion of endorphins, I collected myself. I washed my hands and fixed my makeup, paid, and left the restaurant, vowing never to return.

That night I flipped through my scrapbooks of a happier time. When I had thought I was in love, and he was in love with me. A time when I was excited about my new career, and we talked about settling down, buying a house and having children. The pictures ended far before the relationship did, before the reality hit home and my career turned out to be a dead-end road to nowhere, just like my barren womb.

What could I offer to a man, really? Alan obviously didn’t think I could offer much, so he found his own way without me. And I was left here, at a dead end road, with no map to continue on. I wanted so desperately to be filled by something, a sense of purpose, a cock, even the impossible. I settled for cheap alternatives, and retired to my room with my largest dildo, to fuck myself into harsh oblivion for the second night in a row.

I masturbated for a long time, having small, yet ever-building orgasms. Eventually, my fantasies drifted again to the man from the restaurant. I imagined the dildo was his cock filling my cunt, moving slowly in and out, as he made love to me. My orgasm b uilt, sending shudders throughout my body as I/he rammed the dildo/his cock into me. My cunt clenched, and I let out a piercing yell as I came.

Relaxed, I drifted off to heavy sleep.

Once again I woke to the screeching of my buzzer. I was rubbed raw, and the dildo lay between my legs, sticky with my own juices. “I’ve got to stop doing this,” I said to myself, as I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up and clear my head. It had been a long time since my head was clear, and I was truly awake.

As I sat at my kitchen table, sipping coffee, and looking back through those horrible photographs, I felt calm for the first time in a long time. I recalled my fantasies of the night before. It had been a long time since I had been passionate about anything, and there was something about him, something that scared and attracted me at the same time.

So, I went back to the restaurant, despite my vow from the previous day. I had to go, if only because it made my day different than all the ones before. Once again, I repeated the first day’s tasks and timing as if it were a ritual to summon the mysterious man. I had a mission or an obsession, but I had something, and it was mine.

The minute I saw him, my nipples hardened as I recalled my nightly fantasies. He had returned — I was surprised and elated. Now, I had to decide what to do. I had hoped he would return, but never really believed that our chance meeting would happen again. I could stay here with my salad, or I could go back to him, and talk to him.

Finally I realized there was no point to all of this if I didn’t talk to him. Resolved, I stood up, my knees a little shaky. I gathered myself together, and walked over to his table with a purpose. As I walked, he turned to face me. When I got close to him, he said, “So, did you ever decide?”

“Decide what?” I asked.

“What you wanted,” he said.

I looked into his dark eyes. I’d had a couple of sleep-deprived days to ponder this question, and I’d run it over in my mind again and again. I didn’t know the answer, but felt I had to be free of the question. “Does it matter?” I asked.

“That depends…” he said, drawing out his voice. I waited for the rest of his answer. As I waited, he appraised me again. I could feel his gaze pass over me, like a lover’s finger sliding slowly over my body. Where it passed, my skin shivered. My nipples responded. My mouth grew moist. Hair stood up along my arms. My cunt began to get wet.

His gaze went back to my face. “Probably not,” he said. It felt like a dismissal. He began to turn back in his chair, back to stare at his wall. I reached out and put my arm on his shoulder, pulling him back to face me. I couldn’t allow this moment to pass, there had to be something more to it.

He turned back, raised an eyebrow, and stared at my hand until I removed it. “What exactly is your game, anyway?” I asked.

“There is no game,” he said. “Two days ago, you walked over to me. I asked you what you wanted. Yet, you couldn’t answer. I had to wonder — what kind of person doesn’t have an answer for that? You must have wanted something when you came over, but you couldn’t say. Personally, I don’t think you can answer. However, there must be some answer, you are here again today. There must be something you want. What do you want?”

I took in a deep breath. Back to that question again. I clenched my right hand into a fist, I could feel my nails digging into the palm of my hand. “No, I won’t answer that yet. What do you want?” I asked, throwing the question back at him.

He cracked a small smile then, the first I’d seen from him. “Does it matter?” he asked, volleying back with my own words. His smile went away, but his eyes held amusement. Was this some sort of game to him? Well, two could play at that game.

I returned with some of his own ammunition “Do you even know what you want?”

“Yes, I do,” he said, stopping me in my tracks

“Really?” I said.

He leaned forward in his chair. “Do you even want to know? Do you even think you could handle it?” His voice was soft, seductive, yet challenging. I just gave one imperceptible nod. “I’m looking for a woman,” he said. “A woman who will be mine.” I must have looked shocked then, because his eyes laughed at me. “A mirror to my soul. Someone to receive what I provide, to fulfill my desires, as I fulfill hers. Someone who turns to me for comfort and care. Someone I can wrap my arms around and hold her whole world. My opposite and complement. I can’t seek her, because she must seek me.”

It sounded almost familiar. Like something I had wanted, once. “What does this have to do with knowing what I want?”

“I know what I want,” he said. “The woman I want, being my opposite, won’t.” His gaze bored into me again, and I felt a familiar shock. I fought the desire to bring my legs together, squeezing my thighs.

“What exactly is it that you can provide?” I asked. Visions of him pounding into me assaulted my consciousness. I had needs and desires, why couldn’t I say what I wanted?

“Purpose, for one,” he said. “I would be her purpose. And, in many ways, she would be mine.”

“And you think I am that woman you desire?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t know. Have you ever fantasized about kneeling down in front of someone in, say, a crowded restaurant, pulling out his cock and going down on him?” I shook my head no. “And doing it in an outfit skimpier than yours?” He leaned forward; I leaned back, away from him. “And masturbating while you did it?” I must have blushed then, he pulled back and gave me that condescending smile again. Was he suggesting that I do this for him, now?

My body was flushed with excitement, but I answered honestly. “N-no.”

“Well, then,” he said, as if that decided it. His eyes flickered, and focused on something behind me. “Your lunch is here.” He turned again, and this time I didn’t stop him.

That night, I went to bed early to get some rest, but found my dildo lying there under the covers. I picked it up, and slid the head between my lips, and then began sliding it in and out, deeper each time. I imagined him grabbing my hair, and pulling me to his cock, as he shoved it deep inside of me. I got up on my knees, and used my free hand to finger my cunt, sliding two, then three fingers deep inside of me.

We were in a public place. He was humping my face as I rammed my hand up my cunt. I was embarrassed but I didn’t care, because he was wild for my mouth, and I was so hot for him. I sucked harder and harder as his cock filled my mouth. I felt him spurt, his come splashing against the back of my throat, and my cunt clamped down on my hand.

I let out a muffled scream around the dildo. My body shuddered and shook and shook again, as wave after wave of uncontrolled orgasm washed over me. I hadn’t come that hard in months, maybe years.

I had to wonder, what was happening to me?

And did I want more?

The next morning I awoke more refreshed than I had in a long, long time. I lay in bed, where I had slept at a skewed angle, and watched as my digital alarm slowly counted up to the alarm time. When it went off, I got quickly out of bed, stiff — but in a good way that I never realized I missed — and shut it off.

When it came time for me to pick clothes, I headed into my spare bedroom — the baby’s bedroom — where I kept some of my older clothes. I found two outfits , clothes that I wore clubbing, that I shouldn’t ever wear to work, that still fit me, and fit well. One for today, and one for tomorrow, I told myself, just in case I missed him again. He’d shown up twice now, there was reason to believe he’d be back, eventually.

My first choice was the “more revealing” option. A V-neck blouse with a push-up bra, and a thigh-length dress that I couldn’t bend over in. Nevertheless, it was better for work than the other one, which had as it’s base a crotch-less body-stocking. Work wouldn’t like it, but well… so what? I didn’t care about work anymore. I wasn’t sure I ever had.

As I put it on, I had a mental image of me on the floor in this dress in front of him. It was short, and I was on my knees, so I was showing a lot of thigh. But it was also easy for me to slide my hand up, inside the skirt, hiking it up just a little bit more to run my finger over my slit. As I stood there in my closet, I touched myself, and my pussy lips distended, making way for my finger. I smiled. Yes, this was what I wanted.

I was running late — work had decided to be worse than usual, over and above the crude comments from co-workers, and an admonishment from my boss. All I did was smile and wonder what he’d say about tomorrow’s outfit.

So, when I got there, he was already there. He was sitting and staring, but instead of facing the wall like had the previous two times, he was turned, facing the door. When he saw me, he relaxed, just the tiniest bit. He didn’t show it on his face as he turned back to face the wall.

Disconcerted by this, I wasn’t sure what to do. I glanced over to “my” table, and shook my head. Instead, I adjusted my outfit one last time, and walked over to him, and stood beside him. I still didn’t know what to say.

He turned his head to me, and looked at me. Once again, his gaze traveled over me. He took his time, lingering at my hard nipples, pressing against the blouse, caressing my legs like a lover, and then settling back again on my eyes. He smiled just a little then. My heart skipped at his apparent approval. Again, I had to wonder whose web I was in: his or mine?

And I was totally wet.

His eyes narrowed. “So,” he said. “Here we are again. ” He seemed gruff, almost angry with me. Most of my confidence fled. Had I misread him? Wasn’t he glad to see me? I felt myself shake, and the tears at my eyes, as I began to sob.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, and sobbed into them, willing the tears to stop. “Oh, God!” I said. I gathered myself together, and lowered my hands to my sides. I could see my makeup smeared on the heels, and knew I must look awful.

“I don’t know anymore,” I said. “I thought I knew, but then I met you, and now I don’t know anymore. My life has been hell, and then, suddenly, there was you. It’s like you put me under some kind of spell. I can’t think of anything but you.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He asked.

“This,” I said. “Is not love. Lust maybe, or something else.”

“But do you believe in it?”

“I did once.”

“No longer?” I shook my head no. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” he continued. “There is something inside of you, an emptiness that begs to be filled. A loveliness that wants to be used… A need that fills my want. There. I’ve told you how I feel, you can guess what I want. What do you want?”

Damn, it was that question again, thrown up to taunt me again. I turned to go, convinced this demon would never let me go, but he reached out and touched my elbow, “Wait,” he said. “Do you really want to leave?”

I stopped, and turned back. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know what I want, or who I want, or what I want to do. I’ve been thinking about it for four days now, and I still don’t fucking know. I used to think it was easy, simple, of course I know what I want, it’s what I’m doing, right? But that was all yanked away from me long ago, and now life is too complicated. I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what I can have. I spent most of my time just being, going through the motions, and then you showed up. You and your stupid question.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he said. “It could be simple.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It can’t. I am not simple, life isn’t simple.”

“I could make it simple for you.” His voice was quiet, but certain. An offer, a bargain, all I had to do was take it. His voice seemed to plead for a moment. “Let me make it simple for you. Let me hold you in my arms, and make everything all right. No one was supposed to go through this life alone, we all have someone there for us, someone who matches us. Let me be that person.”

God how I wanted to just take him up on it, but no, I knew it wasn’t that simple it never is. “I can’t give you children,” I said. There that would take care if it.

“Did I say I wanted children?” he asked. His stern mask fell. “You are my completing part, I know it. I want to devote my time to you, and all the rest will take care of itself.”

I felt my nipples press against my bra, I felt my pussy muscles tighten. I looked into his eyes, and I fell into his gaze. I closed my eyes, and went down on my knees. With the skirt I was wearing, the people in the restaurant were getting a show, but I didn’t care. It no longer mattered.

I knelt down, first on one knee, then the other. I lowered my head to his lap, and he ran his fingers through my hair. His hands slid under my arms, and he pulled me up, until we were hugging, him sitting, me kneeling on the ground.

His hands wrapped around me, and I knew peace for the first time in two weeks. His hands pulled me tightly to him, and I knew serenity for the first time… maybe ever. His head was next to mine, and he whispered in my ear, “Welcome Home. Welcome home, my love.”

I felt my pussy spasm again, and he kissed me, sending me over the edge with just a kiss.

There was just something about him. I knew it the moment I saw him.