View Workout (Joe Uhan)
BRITT
November 17, 2022 (Morning)
Exercise Type: Other
Comments:
I met up with Britt at Agate Alley Bistro at 7ish. Funnily: we sat in the same corner booth at which I "reconnected" with Chelsea in November of 2013.
She arrived, late (but not terribly). She looked good, but a little "much":
* a lot of make-up
* fake eyelashes
Her body was a little obscured by a coat-like wool button down, but she looked fit as ever, with a peek of the (still luscious, fake) boobs tantalizingly covered.
But also: no ring (which I ascertained from pics, beforehand)
She was nervous. But it was good to see her.
It didn't take long to dive into the catch-up, even the tough parts: our divorces (mine, her two) and other challenges. She had fucking cancer, and - seemingly - still does, though it's in remission.
We had some fun, positive chats two over a couple of drinks, then some food. But time flew by. It was pushing 9 when we decided to relocate.
Let's be honest: I 1000% wanted to hook-up with her. Her pics she posted in August made it *clear* two things:
1. that she was available again (that, and her name change)
2. that she was STILL HOT AF
So my plan was a second venue, then recommend my house, then "be fucking by 11pm"!
But as we drove off in separate vehicles to Max's, I was like, "Fuck it!". I called her. "Let's just go to my house". Easy yes. She asked (and nearly insisted?) we stop at Market of Choice for more alcohol. I obliged.
Back at the house, we:
* drank more
* flirted. Immediately she was almost awkwardly flirting, touching my arm, grabbing my hand... It was clearly "on".
* dove deeper: now with more "liquid courage", she talked about how difficult and painful our breakup was, how her first (disaster) marriage was a product of that
* talked about "the kid". She INSISTS that her pregnancy in 8/2012 was REAL! And, after "how cold I was", she terminated the pregnancy!!
I just sat there and "took" most of her honesty. I thought that was important, though it's still of interest to me to how much of her behavior that summer was blatant lies and deception.
Regardless, we aired it, talked about it. I apologized. She accepted.
We flirted more. On the couch together, occasionally holding hands. I held her closer, scooping under her thigh, caressing./
Finally, I just went for it. I kissed her, twice. She has a great mouth (something I never considered before Jules).
There was some back and forth: she spoke more about the hurt, and her feelings. But then said, "I'm OK just being friends". I was, and told her I wasn't wanting more.
Not much longer after that...we kissed again. And more. Then she was on top of me. Beneath a long button-down sweater that she wore in the restaurant was a tight black "shirt" (actually one of those crazy-hot "onesies") into tight denim.
She immediately said, "I'm ok with us just being friends, and fucking..."
I'm not sure the "ing" was out of her mouth before I was unbuttoning her jeans. Within seconds, she was standing and taking down her jeans.
Oh man, those "onesies". These were never a thing to me before this past year. My (single, recently divorced) roommate mentioned them, last spring. Then Juliet wore one on my visit to see her in August. Holy fuck are they hot: just...a shirt + underwear combo that is held on by like three metal buttons, right at the V. So with one quick reach-and-pull, you have immediate access to both the V (where you could just go immediately to town!), and their chest (depending on how ambitious you are.
Britt and I were ambitious. Two snaps and there is was: my (second-) favorite V of all time. I pulled up that shirt to just above her boobs (so hot), then she laid back on the couch and I pounced.
But like old times, I immediately went mouth-to-V. I used to LOVE licking her. As I slid down, she moaned with excitement and said before I even began, "You were always THE BEST at this!"
She orgasmed in under a minute.
I came back up. Her knees were to her shoulders, and my bare skin was on hers, "knocking on the door".
Between frantic kissing she said, "Maybe we wait until next time".
Me (without delay), "Oh, absolutely, sure!", I said as I continued to grind against her wet V.
She was employing "anti-slut defense". She absolutely wanted to, but didn't want to seem "easy" (or as if that's "all" she wanted). However, she initiated the "friends who fuck" and, based on everything else, it was clear she wanted to do it.
So I just kept agreeing with her:
"Yes, of course! Let's just wait until next time!"
But without changing a thing, I kept on knocking on the door: not forcing anything, but not going anywhere: letting her be in control.
A minute later, I was inside.
So. Fucking. Good.
("You're clean!?" she said
(YES, I replied. Hoping I was (two women in 8 years?))
But there was an immediate conundrum. I (still) can't trust her. And as much as I'd hoped she was truly on birth control, I couldn't finish in her. No way. Can't chance it. (So risky to "deposit" in a woman in ANY situation, let alone our history!)
I could've done so, very quickly. But I held out.
• Me on top, her legs in the air, then over my shoulders
• Her on top, forward and reverse
• "Spooning". Here I really went after her, talked a little dirty.
She orgasmed again.
Then I went for a condom. But as it goes, three things usually conspire:
1. the condom NEVER feels as good
2. it robs a bit of moisture
3. by then, I'm a little "raw" from so much work and holding it in
It's just hard to get release. I did her from behind (kneeling and prone) around that tiny ass, then again legs-over-shoulders, but the combo of the condom and the narrow couch made it pretty tricky.
Just didn't happen. Bummed. But it was otherwise fantastic.
We came up for air. We talked ("friends like this is OK!", she said, and I agreed/(applauded)), and - me not yet satisfied - went back and forth about giving it another go, especially when she put back on that tight, black onesy, but didn't button it. I pulled her back on top of me. I wanted one more go, but I guess she didn't.
So we packed up. It was nearly 1am anyway. We said our goodbyes (and she also said, multiple times, "I love you"(!)), and I walked her to her car in the driveway. She pulled out and I walked in, laughing incredulously...
...then a minute later, I hear a clomp-clomp on the deck. She's back!
"I ran out of gas!"
CLASSIC Britt move! Long-story short: took forever to figure out how to shift her 2023 Jeep Cherokee into neutral to coast down the driveway and out of my way, then we drove downtown to the one open gas station to buy a can and put 2 gallons into her car.
By the time we did that, it was nearly 3!
Lols. Karma for us both, I guess?
Good stuff. Five days later, I still feel pretty good about it.
I care for her. She, me. It's the best sort of medicating, when two people with a history, legitmately care for one another, and can free exchange physical intimacy. So good. While her wanting more (and expressing legit Love for me, which I can't reciprocate in that way) is frought with danger, I'm hoping we can toe that narrow line!