She pushed him back on the couch, removing the beer bottle from his hand and grabbing the remote off the table, hitting the power button. She quickly removed her shirt and went to work on her jeans, not maintaining any kind of eye contact. She needed a fuck, and he was happy to oblige. Tony removed her jeans for her and grabbed her hips, quickly removing his body from the sofa and replacing it with hers. He felt an erection growing and peeled off his shirt before undoing his own jeans and pushing them to the floor.
It wouldn't have been like this with his wife. She would have come up behind him and kissed him on the cheek; she would have worked her way down to his collar bone. He would have put everything aside and carried her up to their bed, gently caressing her on the way. He would have removed her clothes slowly and lovingly, kissing every piece of exposed skin. She would have moaned gently and egged him on, laughing when he hit a spot that evoked a memory. They would have been slow and sensual. Not like this.
Jen stood and removed her bra while Tony pushed down her panties. She stepped out of them and was shocked when he lifted her up, wrapping her skinny legs around him. He left his hands on her ass and pinned her back to the wall, swiftly entering her.
He would have slowly taken control with Michelle, touching every hot spot, knowing every movement and touch that would make her cry out. With Jen he didn't pay attention. He wasn't making love with her. He was fucking her, just like he fucked Nina. But he hadn't fucked Nina, she'd fucked him. She screwed him because she couldn't screw Jack anymore.
That was what he was doing now. He was fucking Jen because he couldn't make love to Michelle anymore. He began thrusting, skin upon skin, flesh to flesh; but he didn't feel anything. There was no emotion, no love, no care, not even lust. It was a need to come, a need to release, a need to get off, and that was all they were to each other. They had a private understanding. She wasn't what he wanted, and she knew it, but they both believed she was what he needed.
He pushed harder, throwing her body into the wall. She yelled and screamed, but not for him. She didn't yell his name, but "Fuck," and "Oh God". Her muscles contracted over him, and he pushed harder and harder. This wasn't the deepness he loved. She didn't surround him like Michelle had. He didn't belong inside of Jen.
And suddenly he saw her. He saw the last time they made love together, or at least the last time before everything changed. He saw himself crawling over her and entering her slowly. She gasped out for him.
Oh, oh Tony, please. Hands enveloped in hair, running over smooth skin, touching every curve. Bodies ache, need. A force so strong it's painful. Where did he end and she begin? And suddenly it no longer matters; he's pushing slowly, ever so slowly. Ahhh. It was a painful gasp - he had gone too far. He pulls back, kissing skin to make up for loss of contact. Breathing heavy, labored. Gasping and writing beneath him, she's all he needs. And she's moving with him, pushing back up against him; she's loving him as well, needing all of his love. He's loving her, making love to her. And she's making love to him. Coming together, needing each other.
He was shoving into Jen, not caring. Not making her feel good, but seeking his own comfort, his own pleasure. Suddenly she cries out, and like that it's over.
And all he can see is Michelle. His Michelle. He sees her coming in his arms; he feels the two of them completely in tune, totally together. His eyes melt into hers, feeling all she felt. They were one in that moment. They were in love. They expressed that love in everyway that they could. They were meant to be like this.
His knees give in and he falls to the floor, taking her with him. She looks at him curiously he's never done that before. He's never come so hard that his body goes limp. She feels him sweating, feels his body tremble, and suddenly she understands. She reaches out and stokes his face, and realizes that he wasn't with her. He was somewhere else. He met her eyes, wishing with all he had that it was Michelle's eyes he was meeting, that it was her in his arms.
And she knows. She realizes what he's thinking. Jen pulls away and finds her clothes, dressing herself haphazardly. She now knows that she can't be what he needs.
And yet somehow, that's okay.
