Hello Readers-

I know it has been a very long time since I have posted and for that I am very sorry. I have had a very hard year, I don't want to go it the details but writing had to take a back-burner. I am finally in a much smoother place and have been able to write a few short stories. I asked on Facebook if you guys were interested in some FSOG and original erotic short stories and you guy were really excited to read what I have been working on. So that is this is going to be a series of erotic short stories between one and three parts each.

I also want this to be about YOU the reader. Is there something YOU want to see your favorite characters do that hasn't been done yet? Is there a song or poem you would like to inspire a short story? Take to the comment/reviews and let me know what you want to see here and I will try to give you want you want!

I have not been on FF for at least 6 months so I was shocked when I got on here to find over 100 new messages from my readers wanting to know if I was going to be posting. I had no idea. I'm going to do my best to reply and for those of you who reached out to me I am so sorry that it has taken so long for me to reply.

This first story is called the Weekend. It is three parts and is NOT a FSOG FF. This is an original story inspired by three Paolo Nutini songs. I will be posting shorts on FSOG as well in the coming days. But i wanted to see what you guys thought of something a little different. If you like it please let me know.

Also I am going to post this on Tumblr and if you follow me there I would really appreciate likes and reblogs to get my work out of the FF world. I will also be posting the links to the songs on My Tumblr and Facebook pages if you want to get familiar with this amazing music.

To everyone that encouraged me to post on Facebook Thank YOU very much and I hope you like it.


It was strange kind of normal being back in my home town. The odd feeling when something so familiar becomes foreign with time and distance, a feeling of belonging to a place that you no longer want to belong to, a place that you have outgrown. I had quietly said my good bye to New York well over a year ago, abruptly letting go of all the stuff (and maybe even the people) that bound me to one place for too long. I didn't understand what it was inside of me that made it hard to connect and long for what lies just beyond my grasp. I only knew that I wouldn't rest until I found it or until it found me.

I didn't want to come back to New York, at least not yet. I wasn't ready. I was content being far from home, surprisingly so. Sure, I missed my friends and family but I didn't miss the person I was when I was around them. I had thought about not coming, making a lame excuse at the last minute - a work emergency or a twisted ankle. But I knew that feelings would be hurt had I not made the trip. If it was any other reason than Ben's wedding I wouldn't have come back. Anyone else and I would have said no. But Ben is literally one of the best people I know and I didn't want to disappoint him because in all the years I had known him he had never disappointed me.

The wedding was on the east end of Long Island in a beach front small resort. I had been to a wedding there before so I knew the lay of the land; beautiful reception room, amazing hotel suites, specular views. A wedding there was a three day event. I checked into the hotel later than I wanted to but I had forgotten about Friday night traffic heading out east. I was stuck in a cab from the airport to East Hampton for over two hours. My dad had offered to get me, but I didn't see the point of him driving four hours in circles and I knew I would see my parents at the wedding.

I was the last to show up to the rehearsal dinner at a small Italian place a short ride from the hotel. I needed a nap after my travels and a little time to gather my thoughts. It was cold for early October, damp and almost bitter but the east end of Long Island is truly magical in the fall. The mature trees heavy with red and yellow leaves, quaint manicured homes all decorated for Halloween. The long stretches of farm land, the smell of charred corn and ocean salt in the air. It was a nice change from the heat and humidity I had grown used to living in the south. It was still summer hot in North Carolina, if we were lucky it would be warm through December.

I stood in front of the mirror for a good twenty minutes, my suitcase spread out on the bed. I didn't know how to dress, my blood had already thinned from the southern exposure and I didn't really bring anything too warm because I like to pack light, only what could fit in my carryon. I kept decided to it simple; Black pencil skirt that hit me just above the knee, a white silky shirt - tucked in but blousy, unbuttoned to show just a hint of boob bursting from my white lace bra, matching boy shorts, a thin gold leather belt, and my faithful back platform heels. Thankfully I didn't have anyone to impress. My friends have seen me at my very best and conversely my very worst. That is the one comfort of knowing people so long - the lack of superficial judgment. But I still wanted to look nice, maybe even hot, because I had decided to come alone and was worried that he might bring a date. I wasn't sure how I would feel if that were the case and I didn't have the balls to ask anyone if he was so I just prepared myself for the worst and decided to look my very best.

I took yet another cab knowing I was going to drink too much. It is what old friends do when they get together. They talk about back in the day and lose count of how many beers and shots we drank. We laugh loudly and pick at old wounds; maybe we'd even make a few new ones. Rehash all of our drunken nights and broken hearts. Good times. Good times. The cab pulled up to the restaurant about a quarter to eight. I walked in and checked my coat and scanned the room. I could see my friends scattered around, a few at the bar, a few dancing. It was only then I felt excitement. Up until that moment I felt dread. Dread because I knew Michael would be there, of course he would. He was even closer to Ben than I was. Ben was the reason that Michael and I met in the first place.

I scanned the room once more looking for a head that would stand a few inches above all the others. Thankfully I didn't see him in the crowd. I needed a drink before I would be ready. But I knew he was there, somewhere. Not that we parted badly or dramatically. We just parted and that was enough.
I was quickly was greeted with hugs and kisses, a glass of cheap red wine that I drank quickly and then another. I hated to admit it but I was nice, being known by people and knowing people. It was something I lacked in North Carolina where everyone was a stranger. Though there was comfort in that too.
I started to relax, as my eyes darted around searching for him once more, finding nothing and then I heard his voice say my name from behind and felt this familiar shiver run up the length of my back. I turned slowly and he smiled slowly, his dimples popping through, it was a sad smile though and I'm sure that it matched my own.

He looked older and tired, his dark brown, nearly black hair was cropped short and he was two days past a close shave. His thick brows were furrowed but couldn't hide the bright blue of his eyes. He looked good though, he looked right and wrong all at the same time. All the what-ifs swirled in my head until I felt dizzy by the possibilities, hoping that it was just the wine. We stood there for a second, surrounded by our friends, frozen. I felt it again, the feeling of something being so foreign but so familiar, of belonging to something you didn't want to belong to, the feeling of home.

He leaned closer to me and I forced myself not to move away from him. His hand rested on my hip, out of habit maybe, and our legs touched. I felt this odd stirring in my chest and I stopped breathing. I rested my one hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist. It was an awkward embrace at first, but then our bodies relaxed against one another and my head rested in the usual spot just below the crook of his neck and his chin found its rightful perch on the top of my head. My arms tightened around his waist but I was careful knowing that he always carried his service piece. It was the best and worst thing about dating a cop. He always had a gun close by, making you feel safe and protected but it was also a constant reminder that he needed a gun to keep him safe. I looked up at him and he kissed my cheek just shy of the corner of my mouth. His lips were warm and smooth and his breath smelled like oaky sweet whiskey. I wondered if his lips touched mine would I taste the other women on his lips, would he taste the other men on mine. He smelled the same, warm and rich like dark coffee and warm leather. We lingered like that for a moment longer than we should have and I could feel the eyes of our friends boring holes in the back of my head. I took a step back, freeing myself of his grasp and was filled with a feeling if sadness and regret that I had spent the last two years of my life trying to shake. The feeling that I had lost something and that something was missing.
Yes. I was the one that ended it. That was a fact. But he was the reason it ended. I had been offered a transfer with my company. It was a huge stepping stone for me. I knew that his job kept him firmly planted in New York. I knew that neither one of us would have been open to long term long distance. When we finally started dating I knew it would come to an end. We wanted very different things from life. We were very different people. But there was this thing between us, this bond and I still felt it all these years later.
Michael was a project, and I didn't do projects. He drank too much, he ate like shit, and he worked out too hard, boxed till he came home bloody. Everything about him was difficult and hard. He hated that I wouldn't fight with him, it wasn't my way. He liked to yell and scream and curse and exorcize what was plaguing him. I never saw the value in that, maybe because my parents fought a lot. I had decided long ago that there is little in life worth fighting about, that life was hard on its own and there was no reason to make it harder because someone forgot to put down the toilet seat.
Like I said we were just very different people, Michael and I. When it worked it worked but when it didn't work it really, really didn't work.
"How ya doin'?" God his voice killed me. It always did. It wasn't an elegant voice, not by a long shot. It was coarse and thick and heavy, just like his sarcasm and his cock for that matter. He looked at me with intent, like a case he was trying to piece together. He was figuring out how this was going to go, how I would respond to him, if I would respond to him. I was curious myself. Like I said we didn't end things badly. It was merely an understanding that life was taking us in opposite directions and neither one of us could make the decision to change our paths together.
"I'm good Michael. You?"
"Ahhhh... Not bad, not bad. Your hair got long." He reached over and twisted the ends of my hair between his fingers for a moment, letting the curl fall back around my waist.
"Yeah. It's laziness really. Can't find a place down there to get it cut."
"So the south is treating you good? Work is good?"
"It's all good. What about you, how's the new commissioner treating you guys?"
"You cut the head off a snake and another one grows in its place. Ya know what I mean." I smiled and for some reason ran my hand up and down his shoulder. I couldn't help myself; it was something I always did. He had been shot there years ago, it grazed his arm leaving a long scar. I spent hours of my life running my fingers up and down that line. I stopped myself from running my hand along the back of his neck and the soft bristle of his cropped hair. But God I wanted to.
"Anyway. It's good to see you. We missed you last week. I would have bought you another lap dance." He chuckled at his own joke and brought back a good memory, somehow unifying us with our shared past - all the guys at the last stag party bought me lap dances. I was considered an honorary dude in Ben's circle of friends and was always included in guy's nights.
"If memory serves I bought YOU a lap dance too. It's not my fault the girls liked me better."
"They did take a shine to you, didn't they? I'll never for the life of me understand how the hell you could still look innocent slapping the ass of a stripper." We laughed together a bit until the noise of the bar swallowed us up.
"You happy Bee?" He called me Bee and it felt like a knife to my heart. I earned the nickname because I was always humming and I reminded him of a bee buzzing around.
"Yeah. I mean... Yeah. You?"
"What the fuck is happy anyway? I wake up and I'm alive... I'm happy."
It was that simple for him, it was something I always envied his simplicity. He wanted to eat, drink, fuck, fight, work and laugh. I always thought too much. Sometimes paralyzing myself with possibility.
"Well, I'm glad to see you. It nice that we can still talk and have it not be uncomfortable." His expression changed slightly because he knew I was dismissing him in a way. I wanted to talk to him more but my heart felt too heavy in my chest.
"Me too. Me too. I guess I'll see you later then." I nodded and smiled watching him make his way across the small room.
I was relieved when I realized that he had not brought a date. Ben said he was dating someone though, but they weren't serious and he not met her yet. I was dating too, casually but no one that I would have brought 600 miles to meet the friends and family. The rest of the night was what I expected, fun but typical. I could feel Michaels gaze on me when he thought I wasn't looking and every so often our eyes would meet. I sat through four speeches, a video of photos, a cold meal of chicken Marsala, and it was finally time to go. I felt like I was counting down the hours until I was back on a plane and home safe.
I made my quiet goodbyes to those that mattered, I looked for him but he was nowhere to be found and went outside to wait for my cab.
"You leaving already?" He was leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of him.
"I thought you quit?"
"I did. I bummed this off of Ben's dad. But you know I smoke when I drink." He threw his half smoked cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the concrete.
"You always drink."
"Nah, not so much lately. I only had two tonight. Trying to keep it in check." That was a phrase I often used when trying to get him to cut back on his drinking. I liked the idea that my voice was still knocking around in that think head of his, even when I was so far away.
"Good for you."
"You need a ride?" Just as he asked my cab pulled up.
"This is me. I'm good."
"Let me take you home. We can talk a bit."
"I'm not going home. Staying at the hotel."
"Oh, me too. I heading back there myself."
The cabby beeped the horn and I jumped. "Anyway, I guess I will see you tomorrow. Big day."
"Dammit Bee." He muttered a few other things and walked up to the cab sending it off into the night, without me in it.
"Jesus Mike!" He grinned at me. A big smug toothy grin. He enjoyed pissing me off and he succeeded.
"I just saved you twenty bucks. Come on I'm parked around the corner."
He was always doing shit like that, taking over. Making changes without asking. It always pissed me off, but it was who he was on a base level and I knew he was unable to change it. But I stood there holding my ground. I was not his girlfriend anymore and he had no right...
"Bee, come on. It's getting cold. It's late. I don't like the idea of you in a cab alone. Okay. Sue me..."
"I can take care of myself Michael."
"I know. You coming?" He looked so smug and so fucking sexy.
"No. I'll just call another cab."
"You haven't changed one bit. Just get in the fucking truck."
"Apparently you haven't changed either, when has talking to me like that ever gotten what you wanted?" I crossed my arms across my chest and inhaled deeply.
"Never." He cocked his head to one side and sheepishly smiled. "Bee, please let me take you back to the hotel." I wanted to tell him no, but I was tired and cold and just slightly drunk. I just wanted to find my nice hotel bed and Michael was the fastest way to get me there and in all honesty he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Okay?" He looked at me puzzled. "That was easy."
"No it wasn't." I laughed a little as I spoke and he smiled taking my hand in his leading me to his old black truck, that over the years I had gotten to know very well.
We drove for a little while in silence. The restaurant faced an old dock and was tucked away through winding roads, large houses mostly Victorian in style lined the streets. They look lovely and quaint in the light of day but eerie in a moonless midnight.
"I'm glad you came. Ben wasn't sure if you would." I suddenly felt nervous, it was a feeling in my belly that I couldn't explain.
"Yeah, I wasn't sure if I was going to come either but it's going to be a fun weekend." There was a long pregnant pause; Michael was never one for idle chatter. That was actually one of my favorite things about him. We talked about real things, the meaning of life, the cases he worked on, my writing, but we also were able to sit together and not talk at all. Just be together in silence. That is what I missed the most about us. Sunday mornings in his apartment, coffee, papers, pancakes and silence.
"So, you're good? I mean... You're... I don't know... I just..." I wasn't sure what he was trying to say and I was even less sure about what I wanted to hear. "I just miss the fuck outta ya."
"I miss you too."
"Do ya? Cause you never call or text or anything."
"I know. Either do you. It just easier not to I guess."
"Yeah well, I'm sure it easier for you, you're the one that left. Nothing reminds you of me but everywhere I go reminds me of you." I sat there stunned for a moment by his honesty and the clarity of it.
"I didn't just leave, I had an opportunity and it took it. Like you told me to." He took his eyes off the road and just looked at me for a moment. I could see just a hint of anger in his eyes.
"So if I would have told ya to stay. You would have stayed?" It was a question I had asked myself a million times and the answer was always the same - I didn't know.
"It doesn't really matter what I would have done. If you would have wanted me to stay you would have asked me to stay. You didn't."

"That's what you think? That I didn't want you to stay?"
"I think that when you want something nothing stops you Mike. I mean you didn't want me in the cab and I'm not in the cab. I'm here with you in this truck." It was the truest thing I had ever said. Nothing happened that Michael didn't want to happen. He was a control freak, he had to be in his line of work and it extended to his personal life. It was actually reassuring because I knew that when Michael was around nothing bad would ever happen to me. That I would always be safe and protected and I need that more than anything to be happy – the feeling of safety that couldn't only be found on the other side of trust. I knew that if he wanted me to stay he would have moved heaven and earth to keep me in New York. I knew that we saw our futures very differently. I wanted kids and a home and he did not. It was really that simple. He did not see a life with a family and I could not see my life without one. And there was our great divide. He didn't speak for a few moments and then abruptly he pulled the truck over on to the side of the road. I could see the tension in his fingers and arms as he clenched the steering wheel.

"I wanted you to stay… I just… You wanted this career and I knew what it meant to you and I didn't want to be that guy… And then there is the whole marriage thing and…" Our eyes locked for a moment and I felt every muscle in my core clench as my breath hitched. I looked away, out the window to a small house a few yards away. The windows bright from the lights within, carved pumpkins on the front porch and a small bike left out on the lawn.

"I know. I get it… It would have happened anyway… It's fine… It sucks but it fine."

"This is anything but fine. If I would have asked you to stay would you have stayed?"

"I don't know…" My mind was racing, going back and forth with staying and leaving. I could feel this tension emitting from him, I could feel his anger and his struggle but I couldn't force myself to look at him.

"Look at me Bee." His voice was low and soft and I turned my head slowly and met his gaze. "Would you have stayed?"

"Yes. Because if you would have asked me to stay, it would have meant more than just that wouldn't it?" We both knew that asking me to stay would have meant a change in our path, that staying would have meant a future and a family and all the things that he fought against but that I hoped one day he would want too. He sat there and said nothing; I knew he was putting pieces together, figuring it all out. I wasn't really sure what I expected him to say or what I wanted him to say but his silence was killing me. Before I knew what was happening his car door flew open, the interior light hurting my eyes and then the slam of the door making me jump. I watched him walk in front of the truck, as I eased off my seatbelt and then my door flew open. His hands grasped the sides of my face pulling my mouth to his. And then the space that has been between us for nearly two years was gone. His finger knotted in my hair and our mouths began to move together, softly at first but as I move my body out of the car a stood pressed against him our rhythm changed, It was deep and hungry and filled with all the kissed we had missed. The scruff on his face chafed my skin and tickled my neck as he trailed down to my collar bone, leaving little damp patches that cooled in the autumn wind. He pushes open my jacket and sinks his teeth gently into the soft flesh where my shoulder meets my neck and I grab a fist full of his crisp white shirt into my hands pushing my body against his. I can feel his hard cock pressing into by belly and while I have dated since we parted, there have been no other lovers. All I want his cock inside of me, that is all I can think about.

He unbuttons my blouse and pulls my breast from the lace of my bra, his warm mouth sucking on my sensitive nipple, sending a sensation directly to my equally erect clit. Every muscle and tendon in my body tightens, my core throbs, every sense is heightened and somehow dulled at the same time. I slide my hand between our pressed bodies and grab him through his trousers; he growls into my ear and takes my ass firmly into both hands, lifting me up on to my tip toes. I hear a car drive by us and become aware again that we are on a street in the middle of a quaint neighborhood as he descends to his knees lifting my skirt in the process. I am distracted again by the sound of ripping lace and the cold air hitting me in my warmest places and then his presses his lips gently to my pubic mound and everything fades away once again. He knows my body better than I do and he remembers well. His hikes my leg over his shoulder and slides two fingers inside of me, keeling a deep base rhythm while his mouth and tongue flick and suck on my clit like high pitched strings of a well-tuned orchestra. I angle my body, the cold metal of the car pinioning me against his mouth and I begin to slowly grind as he sucks and pumps and then quickly I feel it build. My ass clenches, my legs shake and cover my mouth with both hands as I cum. It is a revelation, cumming like that again with him, I had forgotten the difference.

His stands and wraps one arms around my waist, I swear it the only thing that keeps me from falling down. He smiles and presses his forehead to mine as I unzip his pants and release his cock from the layers of fabric. I stoke him slowly from base to tip, and try and spread the pre-jack with my thumb to ease the friction. His breathing is strong and hot on my face and I can feel his heartbeat in my hand.

"Still on the pill?" I nod once and I know he can't take it another second when he puts his hands under my ass cheeks and lifts me slightly, my one foot on the running board of his truck and the other wrapped around him. It's slightly awkward because he is nearly a foot taller, but we have always made it work. He sinks into me slowly and I can feel everything stretch around him as he pushes deeper and deeper, until he can go no more. He growls from the back of his throat and stills inside of me, pressing his lips gently to mine.

"I remember you." It's a grumble and a prayer. He slides in and out of me with ease, slowly as if we are in no rush, like we are back in his apartment on a lazy Sunday morning fucking after breakfast, not pressed against a truck in the middle of suburbia. I tighten my arms around his neck and then both legs wrap low around his waist his arms cradling me from underneath and only then does he pick up his pace. All I can hear are our stifled moans and the sounds of our bodies slapping against one another. I can feel it building again inside me only this time from a differently place, it's deeper and more profound. He fucks me hard and fast and with each thrust upwards the fabric of his briefs rubs against my clit giving me this new but odd sensation.

"Michael… Oh god…" I suck and bite on the tip of his ear and then his shoulder trying to muffle the scream that is dying to leave my mouth. The first wave of my orgasm hits me and my ears begin to ring, I feel him throb inside of me and a low moan is muffles into my neck.

"Fuuuuukkk." He stops moving and holds me still as his entire body stopping his own orgasm and we just rock for a few moments, as I grind against him, then the second and more powerful wave hits me. I squeeze around him while he twitches and jerks against me. He pulls out and though I want him to stay right where he is I lower my legs and grab his cock, stroking it firmly until shoots warm thick cum on my belly and thighs and probably the door of his truck. Sweaty and breathless we stay like that for several long moments just looking at one another until our breathing matches and I can feel him leaking down the crack of my ass. I start to giggle, I don't know where it comes from but I laugh softly and he chuckles sheepishly, kissing the tip of my nose. He eases back a bit, and with weak knees I settle my feet back on the running boards and plop down into the passenger side seat with my legs still outside the truck and attempt in vain to straighten myself out. He leans over me and grabs a handful of fast food napkins and offers them up with a shrug and a muttered apology for cumming all over me. Not that I really minded. I swing my legs back into the truck he closes the door behind me. He slowly walks back to his side and eases into the truck starting it up and pulls off back on the road.

I'm not really sure how I feel but one thing I can say for sure is that I am satisfied. This ache that I have been feeling for a very, very, very long time is gone and is replaced with a very warm snuggly well fucked feeling of relief. The silence between is almost awkward as we drive the five blocks to the entrance of the hotel.

"Bee… that was…" He smiles and exhales deeply. "Everything I've missed about us. Dammit. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have let you go."

"But you did… Nothing has changed Michael… we will always be at this impasse… because this… our present was never our problem…"

"The problem was our future."

"I'm gonna head inside. It's late and this has been an exhausting day."

"Why don't I come up?" He scratches the side of his head as he asks, his eyes are bright and wide and so is the grin on his face. I want to say yes and let him come to my room. I like the idea of waking up with his beside me but I don't think my heart can take it.

"I don't think so Michael." He scrunches his nose in disappointment and kind of sighs and growls at the same time.

"Alright Bee. I'll see ya tomorrow."

I slide out if his truck surprised and grateful that he didn't put up a fight. I don't think I would have won if he had. I feel conflicted and fulfilled and yes a little bit foolish that I just let my ex fuck me on the side of the road. I've been back a few hours and I am already making horrible decisions.