Only Fingers

 

Sophie went to a party with some old university friends and a man she didn’t know spent half the night talking to her. Taking to her, and listening as well, and laughing in all the right places. She decided she quite liked him, and that he probably liked her too. He was touching her arm far more often than he needed to.

They talked for a long time. Long enough they were following each other around, first to get another drink, then to look at the view outside, and then, for Sophie, going to find the bathroom. He waited in the hall for her while she did, and was still there when she came out. She led him downstairs, saying they should find somewhere quiet to keep talking. They ended up in an alcove beneath a flight of stairs that had been turned into some kind of library. There were bookshelves all around them, and it was dim and dark and intimate, and the people walking past, using the stairs, probably couldn’t see them very well.

They looked at books, and laughed at some, and after a while the guy tried to kiss Sophie. She moved her head back, and said, “Um, no.”

“Oh,” he said, and seemed disappointed. He was sensible about it, though. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought… Never mind, I guess I misunderstood…”

“Wait,” she said. “Just listen. I have a boyfriend. I can’t kiss you.”

“That’s a shame,” he said. “I like you.”

“Yeah,” she said, and reached over, and took his hand, and stroked it slowly. “I like you too.”

He looked confused, and Sophie understood why. He opened his mouth to speak.

“So about the listening part…?” she said.

He grinned. “Sorry.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Sophie said. “I can’t kiss you. I can’t fuck you. I can do some stuff, though. Stuff I want to do, and you probably do too.”

“Okay,” he said, and thought for a moment.

Sophie waited. People reacted different ways.

Sophie and her boyfriend Michael had been together for four years. They were happy. They had sex a lot. They loved each other, and hoped to spend the rest of their lives together, but every so often they went out on their own and had sex with other people.

Only sort-of sex, Sophie always said. Only fingers and oral, and never with kissing. Not inside-her sex, or loving sex. The differences seemed important.

She’d been with Michael since uni, since before either had felt ready to settle down. Not for a whole lifetime, being faithful to only one person, not when their lives were only just beginning. It had seemed like a problem, since they loved each other a lot, but it had turned out not to be, especially. They weren’t ready to be faithful, so they simply weren’t. They weren’t faithful, and their lives were much better that way.

Sophie could flirt with other people, and give handjobs and head to other people, and get licked out, and fingered, and still go home to Michael. The arrangement suited her well. She liked newness. She liked being with new people. She liked flirting, and laughing, and the first hesitant touches, she liked all that almost as much as she did the actual sex. This way, she thought, she got the fun of being single, but without the loneliness to go with it. More importantly, she got Michael too, because without their arrangement, they probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as they had.

She was grateful for their arrangement, unspeakably grateful, and so she always kept carefully to their rules. She never kissed and never fucked and never brought any of it home. Not the complications and not the people and not the emotional tangles either. She kept her home life apart, and made sure not to fall for people she slept with, and she absolutely kept it away from work, and from their nice suburban friends. They both were careful about that. Michael used the internet to meet people, and Sophie went out with her old uni friends, who didn’t know Michael, or even that he existed, and so didn’t find it odd that she flirted quite a bit.

Exactly the way she was now.

She stood there waiting, after her big announcement, wondering what the guy would say. He seemed to be thinking it over, so she wasn’t sure. Sometimes people cared more than she expected.

“Okay,” the guy said after a moment. He’d told her his name, but she’d forgotten it on purpose. It helped not to get attached when you couldn’t see someone again. “Some stuff?” he said.

Sophie nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Um, like what?”

She grinned, and took his hand, and pulled it up under her skirt. She didn’t have any underwear on because she’d made assumptions and taken them off in the bathroom. She pulled his hand until her touched her, until he must have felt her wet.

He looked at her, and seemed to understand. He started to grin.

“Finger me,” she said. “But nothing else, because…”

“You have a boyfriend.”

She nodded. “Yep.”

He thought some more, with his fingers pressed against her. He thought, while Sophie was distracted, finding it hard to concentrate on his words.

“So this isn’t cheating?” he said.

“Nope.”

“Your boyfriend knows you’re doing this?”

“Well not specifically, right now,” Sophie said. “But in general, yes.”

It was odd, she thought, how many people asked. How many didn’t want to be part of some odd kind of cheating. She was always a little surprised. People were more honest than she’d ever thought.

“Does he do it too?” the guy asked, sounding curious.

“Yep,” Sophie said.

“And you don’t mind?”

“Nope,” she said, and pressed herself against his hand. “But do you want to do stuff now? And talk about it later?”

He grinned, and his hand moved, and Sophie made a little sigh. He stroked her slowly, along her lips, sliding in her wetness, then slipping his fingers inside.

“I’ll blow you when I’m done if you want,” Sophie whispered. “I can do that too. But do me first, okay? I kind of need this right now.”

He did. He touched her pussy gently. She shifted her feet, and settled herself against his arms, and stood there, letting him explore her. This was good, she thought. It was sexy and warm and nice. She pushed at her skirt, making sure it was mostly down, and no-one walking past would see. Then she stood there being fingered. She leaned on him, and relaxed, and let herself slowly build up to an orgasm. It came. She came. She pressed her face into his shoulder, and came on his hand, and looked up when she finished and said, “That was really nice.”

He grinned. She took a few slow breaths. He was waiting, she thought. Not demanding, she decided, just waiting until she was ready.

“I’ll do you,” she said.

He nodded, and looked around. “We should go somewhere else,” he said.

She looked around too. The corner was fairly dark, and they were out of the line of sight of the stairs. A couple of people had been up and down while she was getting fingered, and she didn’t think they’d noticed. It was getting late, and people were quietening down, sitting down, and keeping more to themselves.

“What about here?” Sophie said.

He seemed startled, and then grinned, so Sophie assumed that was okay. She knelt down, and unzipped him, and put him in her mouth. She tasted him, and felt his shape, and started sucking gently. She tried to remember not to move too much and make it obvious what she was doing. She sucked slowly, wanting to savour him. Wanting to savour this. Tasting new people was as much a part of it as feeling new people touch her.

He got noisier. He began gasping a little, as she sucked. “Shh,” she murmured, around his cock, reminding him, and he went quiet again.

Some people went past on the stairs and she kept sucking, but kept her head still when she knew someone was there, hoping to make it less obvious what she was doing. The feet didn’t stop.

“God,” he whispered after a while, “I’m really close, if you…”

“Yep,” she said, quickly, glancing up. “It’s fine. Just go.”

He nodded, and stroked her hair.

Once, she’d have cared more about him coming in her mouth. Once she’d have probably wanked him into a tissue or something, and tried to avoid his semen, since he was a stranger and everything. She didn’t really care, any more. She liked it like this. She liked to swallow strangers’ come.

He came, and she did, and then they went back to talking and laughing. After a while she said she should go, and he seemed to understand when she wouldn’t give him her number.