I am going to shift away from all the hot sex I have been having and write about a time when Mac and I weren't having sex. But before I do that, I just have to mention last night.

I was in the bathroom brushing out my hair when Mac walked in behind me and called me a dirty little slut. I pouted at Him.

'I am not! I am a good girl.' I said.
'Ha!' He said. 'Good girls wear panties. You are not a good girl.'

I lifted my skirt and laughed. I had panties on. His eyes narrowed.

'Well you can get those off for a start.' I just looked at Him. 'Now, Sarah.'

I pulled them off and tossed them in the clothesbasket.

'Your pussy is wet now, isn't it?' He asked. 'Wet and hot and your clitoris is throbbing. Good girls don't take their panties off like little whores. Good girls don't throb. You are a dirty little slut.'
'I am a good girl.' I pouted some more.

He pulled me close and bit my pouting lip, pushing His groin into mine. I hooked my leg over His hip so that I could grind myself into His jeans.

'Good girls don't grind their cunts against men, Sarah. That is something a little whore would do.'

I pulled up His shirt and then pulled off mine so I could press my belly against His, flesh on flesh.

'Good girls don't bare their tits like that.'

I held His face in my hands and kissed Him hungrily. He pulled my head back by my hair and spat into my mouth. I grunted.

'Good girls don't kiss like that and good girls don't grunt when they are spat on. Good girls are not so desperate to fuck.'

I was desperate to fuck Him. I would have done it right there if only I could have worked out how to get Him out of His jeans without disengaging my groin from His. If I could have gotten to His cock I would have climbed His body to get myself impaled on it. I would have fucked Him where He stood.

'So tell me Sarah, what are you? Are you a good girl or a dirty little whore?'

My mind was fuzzy. I was caught up in the lust. Mac was biting my neck, which was not helping my thought processes at all. I couldn't think straight. I just wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck. I just wanted His cock.

'A good girl dirty little whore.' I said and I started laughing. Mac shook His head.
'Smartass,' He hissed and pushed me away from Him so that He could undo His jeans. Then He gave me what every good girl dirty little whore smartass deserves. And I got a smack in the mouth too. Grins.

So since I am not talking about hot sex today, I have to come up with something else. This was inspired by Amber's incident with bowling alley martinis. I think I have glossed over it before as a part of another story, but it is one of those things that could be told on its own. I shall recap for those that have not been here from the start.

When Mac and I first met was over 5 years ago. We started out as friends. Well, no, that's not true. We started out with Mac thinking I was bloody annoying. It wasn't until I told Him that it hurt when He ignored me that He realised I was not as much a ball breaker as I appeared to be. When we started to actually talk to each other, we found out that we could actually be friends. For whatever reason and even though we respected each other's partners and never overstepped the mark, our friendship became close. We trusted each other and when I hurt I went to Him. He would always tell me the things I needed to hear, even if I hated Him for it at the time.

Even when He and I were not speaking (we took almost a years break from being friends because of lies that were told to us both) I would still email Him when I was hurt. I emailed Him when 'the dom' broke it off with me. He wrote back and told me that I was like a little girl falling in love for the first time and like that little girl, I thought that I would never love again, but I would, I just needed to give it time. When Greg broke up with me I wrote to Mac and He emailed back telling me I was trying too hard and to stop looking so desperately. The man that would love me would find me himself. All I had to do was be me. I decided that I needed a break from having a man in my life, that I needed to be ok with me before I had someone else. I promised myself three months. I ended up taking nine.

Only it wasn't really nine months because somewhere around the sixth or seventh month, Mac turned up again. He did it at the worst possible time, but at the same time, if it had not happened the way that it did, we might never have uncovered the lies.

I went out one night with a huge group of friends. I had a lot of fun. I discovered that margaritas come in blue. I love blue drinks, just because they are blue. I had never had margaritas before. I had never drunk tequila. It always seemed a waste when people drank shots. I like to taste my drink, not just feel it. The night I discovered blue margaritas, I was drinking them from glasses that were almost fish bowls. My face was numb after the first, my tongue too swollen to pronounce words half way through the second, and I don't know where everyone I knew went after the third. It was ok though because I had made new friends, funnily enough they were all men, and it was one of them that bought me the fourth.

I was half way through that drink, or maybe the next when from out of an almost 12-month void, Mac appeared. He was standing behind me when I turned around and I didn't know if I should faint, throw up or run. I just knew I was too drunk to see Him. Just looking at Him took my breath away. I was aching for Him so badly and I hadn't even realised that I was missing Him. I stood there watching Him sway from side to side (at least one of us was swaying I am sure,) and I tried to sober up, I tried to act like I was not affected by alcohol at all.

I didn't pull it off and Mac didn't talk to me long before He told me that He was taking me home. The guy who had bought me the drink(s) was not impressed. I think he thought he would get laid. I think he might have if Mac hadn't come along. I remember that when Mac told the guy to take a hike He looked so very huge. He led me to His car and strapped me in. I felt so very ashamed.

I knew I had to say something witty and outstanding so that Mac would not think I was a complete loss. I wracked my brain for something brilliant to say but everything I thought of made me sad. I did the one thing that men the world over dread when trapped with a drunk girl. I started to cry. Bawled actually. I cried like my heart had been torn from my chest. Mac pretty much ignored my little thunderstorm but I know now He was probably wondering how quickly He could get away. He does not handle tears all that well. Then I made it worse.

Somehow from the depths of my misery, I managed to string together some semi-coherent words.

'Why don't you love me? How can you love Christine and not me? Why don't you care?'

Mac just smiled at me gently and said that He would not talk about anything with me while I was in this state and if I still wanted to talk it over when I sobered up, we could talk about it in a couple of days.

That calmed me a little. Knowing that He wasn't going to just disappear made it seem ok. I sobbed much more quietly after that.

Much to my disgust at the time, Mac was a perfect gentleman. He walked me to the door of my apartment, opened it and made sure that I was ok. Then He left, standing outside just long enough to be sure I locked the door.

I think I went and threw myself on the bed and cried myself to sleep. I know I was dead when I woke the next day. Really, I must have been dead. No one can survive that much pain. Then I started throwing up even though there was nothing in my stomach. I couldn't even keep water down. I had to take an anti-emetic so that I could take some painkillers. I started to cry again but that just made my head hurt so I went back to sleep. When I woke again I didn't feel much better so I took some more painkillers and some vitamin B. I drank some water and climbed back into bed and went back to sleep. It took about 36 hours of sleep and pain killers for my head to settle then I cried for at least another two days.

I called Mac sometime between the tears and He came and talked to me. We uncovered a lot of the lies that had ripped the friendship apart and in some ways it made us closer than we used to be. I think that Mac and I would never have worked it out between us had I not been so drunk that night. He would never have driven me home. I would never have asked. Nothing between us would have changed.

So even though I know now that tequila is an evil drink and it should not be mixed with Sarah in any way shape or form, it played a part in making Mac and me into us.
Every time I think of me in Mac's car, drunk and bawling like I did, I cringe.

Poor Mac.

He was very brave to come back.