You and I

Info midori
14 Jun. '17
You and I

My head presses into the door.

The date went well after all. It was dicey at first. Conversation wasn’t just awkward, it was lame. We just didn’t gel. It's a shame really. Marcus is unbelievably hot. But I thought, what the hell, I may as well be honest for once, and told him I didn’t see us going anywhere. I thought he’d give me that kicked puppy look; you know, the one guys pull like it’s a negotiation tactic. But he just laughed. Laughed with relief.

“Oh, thank god,” he said. “I thought I’d be the one to have to say it.”

Well, his honesty impressed me. So much so that I asked if he’d like to come back with me. He raised his eyebrows.

“Back to yours?” he asked.

“Yes, back to mine. My housemate’s out for the night. But don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t going anywhere.”

“Anywhere like sex?”

“Anywhere like a relationship.” I downed the rest of my wine. “We can absolutely have sex.”

He grabbed his coat and stood up. “When do we leave?”

I smile. It’s dark on the porch. His lips are already on my neck and his hands under my skirt. I’m wet already from him quietly thumbing my nipple in the taxi. His fingers slip into my panties. My key slips into the lock.

We fall into the living room. It’s empty. The place is quiet. I throw my jacket on the sofa and pull his shirt off. He’s ripped. His tongue is fighting mine while my fingers fight his belt buckle. My panties and my top end up on the floor. I walk him to my room.

We make it as far as the hallway before he pushes me against the wall, hikes my skirt around my waist, and slides his dick into me. Slowly, taking my full attention. My breath is shaking. His hands are on my ass, squeezing it as he begins to thrust. In and out. Again and again.

“Goddamn, Amy, your body is so hot.”

Not my real name. But I’ll take the compliment. His cock is thick and long and rock hard. He pounds it into me like he means it. It’s a shame we’ll only have tonight, but I’ll take that too. Every inch of it. His hands squeeze me harder and it turns me on like crazy, thinking he might leave a mark. The end is building inside me. I can’t control my voice now and he fucks me harder.

His mouth is on my neck again and it’s hot as hell in this tiny hallway. I grip him. I can feel it. The stretch as he pushes into me, the slide as he pulls away to go again. Something tugs at the fringes of my mind, but I push it away, hold it down, harder than he holds onto me, crashing my hips into his. My body starts trembling; sweat drips from my forehead.

My orgasm rips through me. It’s a whirlpool that sucks my body in, sucks his dick inside me, clamps my thighs together while he's slamming into me. I’m wetter now and he’s still going, harder, faster. He’s close and I can feel it.

With a final thrust, he collapses into me. He tries to take my weight, but we fall to the floor, panting, gasping, breathless.

Across the room, his phone rings. We wait for it to stop, but it starts again. He groans and rolls over. I watch him walk to his pants and dig it out of the pocket. He studies it, then turns to me, apologetically. I don’t need to guess what happens next.

“I’m really sorry, Amy,” he says, offering me a hand. “I have to go.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, just something I gotta take care of. How rude of me, huh?”

I fish his shirt from under the coffee table and hand it to him. “Second door on the right if you need a mirror.”

He comes out fully dressed, nervous in the face, but his grin still looks a million bucks. “Sorry to run off. I’m not normally like this,” he says. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you too.”

“Maybe we can do this again.”

I smile back. I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

When Marcus is gone, I lock the door and freshen up. I pluck my jacket off the sofa and notice your shirt is underneath, crumpled, tucked next to a cushion. I look around the living room. Still just me, all by myself. Well, when can you be honest if not when you’re alone? I pick up your shirt and hold it to my face. It smells of you. I flutter and I’m wet again.

Then I hear a jangle of keys outside. It’s probably Craig. He’s talking. Probably with you. I grab the rest of my things and head for my room. As silently as I can manage, I slip into bed, one hand reaching for the light switch, the other between my legs.

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