The Bridge Club Ch. 05
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I phoned Abigail a few days later, and asked her to go rock climbing with me.
– “I was going to ask Carmen, but …”
– “You broke up.” said Abigail.
– “Well, that sounds better than ‘She dumped me’. Let’s go with that.” I said.
Nothing. Not even a chuckle. Abigail finally spoke: “Carmen wouldn’t be very good at rock-climbing, anyway.”
– “No.” I agreed. “That’s why I thought of you. Someone athletic.”
– “I don’t know.”
It was like pulling teeth. Finally, I think I wore her down, and Abigail agreed to go with me that Saturday.
– “But you’ll have to show me how.” she said.
The drive up there was nearly an hour. Plenty of time to talk, to get to know her. But it was much more difficult than I had expected. Abigail didn’t have much of a sense of humor. She tended to take everything I said literally. Trying to bond over our shared experience of being dumped didn’t work, either.
Flattery got me nowhere. I swear, I don’t think she believed me when I told her that she was pretty. But she was: long blonde hair, blue eyes, that shy smile, and a slender athlete’s body. Not exactly my type, but quite attractive nonetheless.
I tried to get her talking about her job, her running … no luck. She wasn’t clamming up. Abigail answered every question I asked her. But her replies were frustratingly short. It was almost as if she didn’t think that I would be interested in her stories.
She brightened up when we got to the climbing site. I was no expert, but an instructor gave me a refresher course, and Abigail got the more detailed introduction. She was a decent climber. I enjoyed watching her. She had a very fine ass.
Then I noticed something odd. She was smiling at Mark, the instructor. Not flirting, exactly – she was too shy for that. But every time he made a suggestion, she immediately followed his advice. With a big smile.
It was not a big success, as dates go.
That following Thursday was bridge night. It was also Massimo’s turn to host.
I wasn’t sure if Abigail would opt out until I arrived, and saw her there. It wasn’t quite as awkward as the last time. Massimo had his duties as host to keep him busy: getting drinks, re-filling the snack bowls. He was a pretty traditional chips and pretzels type.
The other girls – Beth and Christina, particularly – went out of their way to support Abigail. She seemed ok.
I played with Christina against Beth and Massimo.
– “Hello stranger.” Christina said, with a bright smile. “Long time no see.”
We played a great rubber, and enjoyed every minute of it.
The next game involved the same people, only this time it was the girls against the guys. I was trying to watch Abigail as we played, but that’s no excuse. Beth and Christina won handily. I hated having Massimo as a partner. Even worse was having to watch him flirt with Beth and Christina.
I talked to Abigail for a while afterwards, but it was like a repeat of the drive. I couldn’t figure out what made this girl tick.
If at first you don’t succeed … I invited Abigail to come to the fitness club, as my guest.
– “We can play a game of squash, if you like.” I told her.
– “I’ve never played before.” she admitted.
– “No problem. I can show you how.”
– “Ok then.” she said.
Abigail looked adorable in ponytails, and gym shorts. Her ass was particularly delectable. She was attentive, and seemed happy as I canlı bahis gave her a tour of the facilities. Was she just subject to mood swings?
She seemed excited to be on the squash court, too. I hit it straight to her every time, and she walloped it back at me with real enthusiasm. Was it just sports that got her motor running? We were quite close together, and collided while lunging for the ball more than once. Abigail didn’t shy away from the contact.
We showered and changed at the club, and then I took her for a drink. The enthusiasm was gone. She was still nice, but the distance – the remoteness, that I had sensed on our first date was back. Yet I could have sworn that she was warming up to me as we played squash.
How had Massimo done it? I know, I know. I could hear Edgar Allan Poe chiding me: that way lies madness. But if Massimo could convince Abigail to sleep with him, then …
And it hit me. Abigail did not respond to compliments, or sentiment. She hesitated when making a bid in bridge. She was short on confidence … something Massimo had never lacked. Yet she had also responded to the instructor at rock climbing … and to me playing squash.
She liked to be directed. A confident man telling her what to do. Was she a true submissive?
I decided to find out. If I was wrong, I could always apologize later.
We were sitting in a quiet cafe, just down the street from the fitness club.
– “Abigail. It’s time for you to be straight with me.”
– “Pardon?” she said. I didn’t continue. I just stared at her. She blushed. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
– “Yes, you do. I have taken you out twice, Abigail. But I’m not going to continue until I’m sure that you’re over Massimo.”
Her lip quivered. “I’m over him.”
– “No, you’re not.” I insisted. “What happened with Massimo?”
– “He broke up with me.” she said.
– “I don’t …”
– “Why did he break up with you, Abigail?” I persisted.
She burst into tears. I felt like a complete heel. Yes, I planned to sleep with her, and then dump her, too. But I felt bad that I was making her cry.
I got her some napkins. But I repeated the question. “Why, Abigail?”
“He said … he said …” She was sniffling, and dabbing at her eyes with the napkin.
– “What did he say, Abigail? Tell me.”
– “He said … that I was no good in bed. And …”
Did I mention that I despised Massimo? What kind of man says that to a sweet, vulnerable girl like Abigail?
– “And what, Abigail?” I wanted to take her in my arms and comfort her, and tell her that everything would be alright. But she needed to get this story out. And I needed to know. “What else did he say?”
But she wouldn’t – or couldn’t – come out with it.
– “Alright.” I said. “You can tell me, or not – your choice. But I’m not leaving you like this. You’re coming to my place, where I will make you a meal. And you will eat it. Then we will figure out what to do about this.” I didn’t ask Abigail. I just told her.
She followed me home, and watched silently as I prepared a pot of chicken soup and put it on the stove to simmer. She kept her head down, or avoided eye contact most of the time. I didn’t ask her any more questions, for the moment. Instead, I asked her to hand me ingredients, or utensils, and told her where to find them.
But just then she looked up – and I saw the look in her eyes. There was hurt, bahis siteleri and confusion … and – call me crazy, but Abigail needed affection.
I went over and gave her a hug. Abigail sniffled, and her arms went around me. She held on tight. Then she turned her head and kissed me on the lips. She was tentative, and a bit awkward, but she was definitely pressing forward.
I kissed her back, softly. The feeling of her tongue on my lips, gently probing, and then gingerly entering my mouth, was incredibly erotic. I started to get hard, and began to back away a little. I didn’t want her to feel my erect cock poking her in the stomach.
But she wouldn’t let me back away. She pressed up against me, and moaned when she felt my erection.
Decision time. I broke our kiss. Then I looked her in the eyes.
– “Abigail, I am going to make love to you.”
She looked back and me, and then nodded her head.
– “But you will have to decide if you really want me to. Go into my bedroom right now. Alone. Close the door behind you. There is a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. You will count to 300. If you come out wearing the same clothes you have on now, then we will eat the chicken soup. But if you come out wearing nothing but the bathrobe, then I am going to fuck you. I am probably going to fuck you more than once. Do you understand?”
She came out almost exactly five minutes later. In the bathrobe. Barefoot, and bare-legged. I turned off the stove.
– “Stand right over there. By the window. Look out.”
Very slowly, I came up behind her, and put my arms around her waist. She trembled, but she also leaned back and put her head on my shoulder. I rubbed her hips, through the robe, then brought one hand up to hold her head while I kissed her. She really wasn’t a very good kisser. Abigail was too passive. But then, I suspected that passivity was her problem.
She didn’t object when I unfastened the bathrobe, and reached inside. I fondled her little breasts, and her flat stomach. I traced the outline of that magnificent little rump. And then I stroked her pussy lips. She was cleanly shaved, but had left a little landing strip.
Abigail was trembling. I kissed her again.
– “Don’t worry.” I told her. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. We’ll stop whenever you want. We can stop now, if that’s what you want.”
She shook her head. And I understood why.
– “It’s not that, is it? You want to make love to me. But you’re afraid that you won’t please me.”
– “Sweet, sweet, girl. How wrong you are.” I picked her up, and carried her into my bedroom.
Abigail let me do anything I wanted. I kissed her, I rubbed and licked her nipples, took big handfuls of that delicious ass … but she never took the initiative herself. Well, one can play that game.
I lay her back on the bed, and kissed her pussy lips tenderly. I french-kissed her pussy, sucked on her lower lips, and just feasted on her. She started moaning, and rolling her hips. But I could feel the tightness in her muscles. She was resisting, refusing to let go and enjoy it.
That wouldn’t do. I turned around on the bed, and presented my cock to her face. I had to put the head an inch from her lips before she opened her mouth and started licking. I fed her another couple of inches, and she started sucking in earnest.
Then I turned around again, into a 69 position. She was still tight, bahis şirketleri still resisting somehow. I put one hand behind her head, and started gently fucking her face. That kept her busy, as she wanted to please me. It also distracted her a little as I went back to work on her pussy.
It worked. She whimpered around my cock, and even tried to turn her hips away, but I held her in place and gave her little clit a thorough workout. Abigail cried out as she came. A jet of liquid came shooting out of her pussy – right into my mouth! And then a second eruption splashed me in the face.
Abigail was a squirter! I choked on the first volley, caught by surprise. Abigail scraped my cock with her teeth as she suddenly pulled way. She was mortified.
– “Oh no! I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”
I laughed, my face covered in pussy juice. “Abigail! Was this what you were worried about? Did Massimo complain about you squirting?” I know – wrong time to bring up his name. “Sweetheart – it’s perfectly natural! Many women do it. And many women wish they could!”
– “He … he said it was … that I was … freaky.” She appeared close to tears again.
I tried to persuade Abigail that she had nothing to be ashamed of, but she refused to believe me. There was nothing for it but to fire up the computer and search up female ejaculation. The scientific sites were a bit of a downer, since some doctors don’t believe it exists, and nobody seems to know exactly what the liquid is. But there were plenty of sites where women talked about their experiences, and I even got her to sit beside me and watch a couple of porn videos featuring squirters or “gushers”.
It took a while, but I finally convinced Abigail that
a) she wasn’t abnormal
b) I wasn’t grossed out
c) it actually tasted ok
That also explained the resistance. Abigail was afraid that she would squirt, so she was actively resisting having an orgasm. Now I finally understood her – or at least a part of her. She was completely passive, sexually. I prefer a more active partner, but who knows? Abigail might be exactly what some guys are looking for.
But at that moment, Edgar Allan Poe and my dick were in complete agreement: we had some unfinished business.
– “Abigail, you had an orgasm, but I didn’t. That’s not fair.”
I had her suck my cock, offering pointers and suggestions which she accepted gratefully. When her mouth wasn’t full, she was frequently smiling. I came in torrents, and told her to swallow it all. She did.
Then I went down on her again, to see what an orgasm felt like for her when she wasn’t fighting it. This one seemed pretty intense, because she gushed again. There was so much liquid this time that I had to strip the bed and change the sheets.
Then I had her suck me again until I was hard. I put her on her back, and knelt between her legs. With my encouragement, she spread them wide. I entered her slowly, savoring every sensation. I stroked into her slowly, all the way to the balls. Then I withdrew all the way, and re-entered her. I counted ten long, slow strokes, then held still while I sucked on her nipples.
Ten more slow, deep strokes, and I kissed her, twirling my tongue in her mouth. I could only do four more slow strokes before my baser nature took over. I started fucking Abigail had, and fast, in a headlong rush to orgasm.
Afterwards, she clung to me like a limpet, and wouldn’t let go. I felt great. Mostly, I think, because I had helped Abigail. We had restored some of her confidence, and repaired some of the damage done by that asshole Massimo.
And I was not unaware that the score was now 2-1.
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