‘She is the apple of my eye. The calm in my storm and when I am with her, I feel reborn.’

Kurt scribbled out his attempt of a poem because he could never write down what Chardonnay had meant to him.

He closed his eyes and conjured up an image of her from their last meeting. Was it really a week ago? It felt like a whole long wet April month had passed. Disappointment and disdain can do that to a person’s soul. It can make the hours and days drag by as you try and pick up that inner discontent that sits in your stomach like a bag of cement and then the working on yourself that you do to feel whole again because your confidence has been hit. Kurt decided to write that thought down It seemed more genuine than the poem he had tried to write.

The Last Time. Kurt wrote that down. It sounded like a good title.

The last time he had seen Chardonnay he had been entirely thrown by her appearance. Well, her hair to be exact. Usually, she had her hair pinned up to show off her graceful neck and smooth vanilla-scented shoulders. However, Chardonnay must have felt dangerous, and rebellious that day. Dangerous and wanton maybe? She had let her curls loose and they had tumbled down and bounced just below Chardonnay's breasts like ebony springs as Kurt watched them fly here and there like fireworks as he fucked her, but he liked her hair pinned up.

Chardonnay could ride and she looked beautiful with her hair up. Almost aristocratic.  Chardonnay didn’t fuck in a whore fashion either that the women in porn clips did. She did it gracefully as if she was doing an erotic dance.  She knew when to up the tempo and she knew when to slow it down. Her pussy always felt to Kurt like it had its own hidden cock clock.

That is why Chardonnay was his favourite person in the world.  She was like a fine wine to be savoured and was as refreshing as a cool white glass of Chardonnay, surprisingly refreshing. However, last week when he had arrived, she had suddenly turned into an angry merlot and Kurt hated red wine.

‘You’re late,’ she’d snapped as she had looked left and right to make sure none of the neighbours had seen him arrive and had practically dragged him by the scruff of his neck to get him into her house as quickly as possible. Kurt had felt unnerved, to say the least. He was used to being greeted by Wendy out of the Peter Pan tale, not the horrid crocodile.

In the hallway, Chardonnay had looked at him and then her tongue had flicked over her lips as she had appraised him and then suddenly her crocodile-style bad mood had lifted, and her eyes had turned from dark onyx to the startling blue he was used to.

‘Get upstairs, and quick, I’m behind time as it is.’ Suddenly Chardonnay was gabbling like the white rabbit who was late for an important date and this shit was playing with Kurt's mind. He came here for pleasure not to be hurried about like he was holding people up in a revolving door.

Running upstairs Kurt had started to unbutton and unzip his jeans because he was feeling tense like he had some inner clock ticking even though in reality he had all the time in the world. He reached Chardonnay's room which he had frequented weekly for the last six months and tried to calm himself and take in the strong scent of vanilla that was exuding from the candles Chardonnay always had placed in strategic parts of the room.

Chardonnay stalked in and shut the door.  She slipped off her long white shirt and exposed herself to him. She had chosen a black basque today with fishnet stockings and Kurt couldn’t work out why she had chosen that get up. She knew he hated black; he preferred white underwear. Kurt liked white panties where he could see a damp patch and Chardonnay knew that. Why would she wear black?

Before he could allow his mind to overthink this switch in Chardonnay's personality and dress sense, she was on her knees. She pulled out his cock and gave it the attention that Kurt had been craving for a week. A craving that was starting to permeate his life if he was going to be honest with himself. His college work was suffering. Whatever English Literature text he was studying, he just saw sex everywhere. Even Shakespeare was starting to turn him on.

His peers laughed at him because looking like a nerd he must obviously be a virgin. Kurt just smiled at them and displayed a row of teeth battered with his metal braces. Little did they all know he was fucking a real woman. He wasn’t interested in 'Lucy Big Tits' who possessed the intelligence of a gnat. However, she had exposed white panties once whilst playing netball. Kurt had wanked over that a few times and her pubic hair had peeped out at the sides. A nice image and he might have nailed her against the outer gym shed if her voice hadn’t been so screeching. Lucy didn’t talk, she shrieked and repeated a joke she found funny like a parrot.

Thanks to Chardonnay, Kurt would know how to silence Lucy for good if he saw fit. Chardonnay said he had a fabulous cock. Once she told him that he was so well endowed her pussy had been sore for days. What guy wouldn’t want that compliment? Kurt liked that but he wasn’t too keen when Chardonnay whispered in his ear once that she hadn’t been able to piss for three days after he had hammered her cunt.

That had made Kurt wonder if she had an STD, so he had taken a test. The result had come back clear but for days he had imagined fungi crawling and growing on his cock. He hadn’t eaten for days after either. It hadn’t been the best sexual story that Chardonnay had shared for sure. It still made Kurt's skin itch whenever his memory did that recall thing that it was apt to do, the anxious section of his brain.

Chardonnay sucked Kurt's cock in a half-hearted fashion. Usually, she ravished it. Okay, there had been some spitting and wanking involved but the way Chardonnay seemed to be rushing it all was playing with his mind. She had practically tossed him onto the bed like a male ragdoll. Then she had thrown him the ultimate curveball. Doggy style.

Now, Chardonnay knew that he liked her on top. What the fuck was this sudden change of heart? Kurt liked to watch the object of his desire riding him like there was some sexual orchestra playing in her own mind.

He liked to watch as Chardonnays pussy gripped and moved up and down his shaft as she spat on her fingers and rubbed her clit and that creeping red ivy thing of a flush that spread across her chest and neck as she came, her juices coating his balls as she gushed all over him. Once in the middle of fucking him she had soaked him through so much it had reached that trail of hair that started at his belly button and went right down to his massive dick. (Her words not his.)

Kurt didn’t think he had a massive dick. In fact, he had thought he was quite inadequate compared to the cocks you see in porn, but Chardonnay had made him feel like his cock was the biggest she had ever had and, she had said once it had stretched her mouth so wide it had made her jaws ache.

But as she knelt on all fours in front of him Kurt was wondering if Chardonnay had been feeding him bullshit. Anyway, in for a penny and in for a pound so he slid into that decadent cunt and all thoughts of Shakespeare and what the fucking trip that poet/playwright had been on slid from his mind as he fucked Chardonnay. Kurt liked gripping her hips and seeing her arse bounce with every thrust. Okay, he did get carried away and dug his nails in, but she loved it. Her pussy kicked back on him like a piston, and he wasn’t used to that. Normally, it was measured. There was no way he could refrain from coming and his load shot inside her quicker than he would have wanted.

As Kurt recovered, he could tell that Chardonnay seemed relieved it was all over. He lay beside her and loved how the smell of his sex now permeated the air. Those vanilla candles couldn’t overcome his cum. He convinced himself that nobody else’s sex smells had ever been present. He didn’t want to acknowledge those who had come before him or those who were going to come after.

As the dark must of his sinful behaviour lingered and filled the air, the thought that other men had done this before him both hurt him but also exacerbated his guilt. He knew deep inside that he shouldn’t use these scarlet women. Kurt had vowed that she would be his last. She was comfortable, nice and accommodating and made him feel good but her snappy, crocodile attitude when he had arrived had stuck in his craw. It was time for him to move on.

Kurt knew how he worked. He was self-aware if nothing else. The thrill of seeking new experienced women excited him. It was the best of rushes. His peers drank Red Bull for their kicks. Kurt fucked older women. Okay, his wallet couldn’t necessarily afford his weakness, and it was quite an overbearing secret at times, but he couldn’t imagine forsaking what had now turned into a weekly titillation.

As Chardonnay got up off the bed, Kurt looked at her and realised why he liked these older women. He loved punishing their cunts that had once held something sacred. The likes of Lucy and that bitch Demi who thought they ruled the cock side of college did nothing for him. Their pussies hadn’t even begun to understand the torment and bashing they were going to get in later life.

No, that wasn’t for Kurt. He wanted to put his cock in someone whose pussy had been pummelled either by childbirth or several massive cocks that had made them feel like their cunts couldn’t take anymore.

Chardonnay sat at her cheap desk and did the usual bookkeeping in her notebook before putting it back in the drawer. That was Kurt's cue to hand over his cash. Well, today the bitch could wait until he had got dressed. Slowly and quite facetiously Kurt pulled up his jeans whilst making eye contact all the time with Chardonnay.

Eye contact sport and Kurt wasn’t even going to blink. He was going to stand there until Chardonnay looked away and he would never have done this if she hadn’t been a bitch to start off with.

Chardonnay had looked away first and was going to say her price but  Kurt was stopping this. Right here and right now. He placed the money on her desk and patted her on the head for a good misogynistic measure when inside he wanted to slap his deity across her tarty mouth. Instead, he walked out, head held high, his pocket way too short of cash but fuck her. He wouldn’t be fucking her again that was for sure. On his way home, Kurt felt grubby and dirty, and he hated himself for his perversion and vowed he would NEVER do this again.

Two days later, he found Carol. A bored housewife who wanted a young cock. The plus side? Completely free! Kurt felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Carol's profile had been interesting, one that had shown her in a scruffy cream chemise with pendulous breasts, but she had a nice face, and she looked quite familiar. Then again, Kurt had wanked over so many people's mums and grandmas they had started to blur into one.

Kurt arranged to meet Carol for the obligatory coffee which he knew translated as a ‘Let's look at each other and decide if we want to fuck each other’ kind of thing.

As he drove to the coffee house, Kurt kept repeating his mantra: ‘Life is for living, it isn’t wrong, you should have joy in your life. Fucking old women is your addiction, a risky and tiring yet sweet affliction.'

Kurt pulled over in his car and wrote that thought down before he lost it forever. How he was going to merge that in his poetry portfolio was beyond him. Or any coursework. Then as he turned his key in the ignition and re- started his car, he realised that yes, Chardonnay was the mother of his Juliet, and she was determined to fuck it all up and Carol was his poison.

The coffee went well. It was clear that Carol wanted it and feeling quite injured by Chardonnay and her change of heart, Kurt had moved into a ‘not giving a fuck’ mode of mentality. When Carol suggested that he followed her back to her house Kurt hadn’t hesitated. Why not?

By the time Kurt arrived at Carol’s, he had forgotten his coursework musings. His cock was in charge and Kurt lost all sense of reasoning. So what if it was one of his college peer’s grandmothers?  not his problem. As he parked up his car and waited for Carol to give him her secret nod to let him know the coast was clear, Kurt smiled to himself. The next time Blake ribbed him about the fact he was a virgin, Kurt would be able to look him in the face and give him a metal smile. As Frank Sinatra once said: “The best revenge, is massive success,” and when Carol was sucking his cock and maybe giving him a tit wank, Kurt would take that as a definite win.