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“Ugh, this is going to be difficult.”
The drive back home is torturous. I collapse on my bed. I’d wanted so badly to bring her back with me but I can’t. I sigh as I unzip my pants, my erect cock springing forth. All night there’d been tension between us, from our hands grazing each other to looks. The long slit of her dress exposed her thigh and stopped just short of where I wanted it to be.
I groan as I toy with the sensitive head of my cock, pressing on it until it oozes pre-cum. I wrap my hand tightly around it, imagining her slowly descending my length as she takes it all in. Her hips move in time with my jerking hand, slowly and torturously leading me to my release. I groan, my hand tightening on the base of my cock and with a final stroke, cum oozes out of my cock.
I collapse, panting. I need to have her only for myself.
9
Kelly
The car slows a bit as we hit traffic. It’s been two weeks since I began dating Lorenzo; so far, he’s not let me be free of him for longer than a few hours every day. He always has something planned, somewhere to take me, and some fun activity to carry out.
His plot is obvious, the typical love bombing strategy men use when they find out about my non-monogamous nature and try to get me for themselves. At first, his ploy was annoying as I try to be fair with my time when it comes to the men in my life. His daily activities leave me with no time or energy to spare for the others; however, my guilt is erased by the fact they are quite busy and unable to spare time, anyway.
Now, however, I find it difficult to be annoyed by his persistence and competitive spirit since his dates are often quite fun.
“The paintings are so big,” he says suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I nod. Today’s date is a paint and sip at a greenhouse Lorenzo owns. The setting is like one out of an artwork itself, with a wide array of colorful plants in the large and airy space, full of light and the wonderful scent of plants and flowers.
The setting is admittedly luxurious and beautiful and the date goes without fault. We paint and sip wine, a charcuterie board between us with a nice selection of delicious fruits, drinks, and everything else. He managed to get the fruits I favor.
He does know how to plan the best dates, I sigh. It’s clear to me this is a competition to him, a way to one-up Miles and take from him the feature I love most; however, a part of me can’t bring myself to be annoyed.
“We’re going to need to take this up,” he says as the car comes to a stop in my home. “You’re not going to be able to carry this up all on your own, though, so I’ll have to help you with that .”
His words bring tingles all the way up from my legs, settling in my midriff. “Yeah, sure,” I offer, trying to appear nonchalant.
The first week of dating had been exhausting. Being in such close proximity with him had been so difficult. The electricity between us was unnerving and I wanted him in my bed. From his words the night he dropped me off, I knew he wanted me too, which made it even harder. His adamance, while refreshing, was also incredibly frustrating.
My nights since these dates are spent masturbating, his face plastered in my imagination no matter how hard I try to think of someone else. My desire was and still is, for him and no one else. Our dates always left me flushed and him frustrated. I could see it in the way he watched me, his eyes memorizing every inch of bare skin, following the movement of my fingers and focusing intently on my lips.
His gaze is always so intense, even during the purest conversation. With every date, I think he’s had enough. We’ll go back to his place and yet, every time, he disappoints, dropping me at my apartment instead.
Today was no different. With every stroke of the brush against the canvas, I’m reminded of his hands against my skin, touching, grazing, and granting me intense pleasure. I groan as he gets out of the car and goes to the trunk to get out the painting.
Days after we started dating, I moved out of home and into my apartment so we could have privacy whenever he dropped me off; he’d be more tempted to come in with me, but it doesn’t seem likely to happen.
It’s been a whole week since I got the apartment; at this point, I’m slowly losing my mind, racking it up to figure out how best to get him in my bed. The last time with him was great, and I want so badly to experience it again.
I struggle not to get my hopes up this time as I shut the car door behind me, but I can’t help it. This is the first time he’ll be in my space. If there’s a chance I’ll be able to get what I want, I intend to take it.
I hurry in front of him, directing him to where to go since the painting is so large it covers his face. The elevator is thankfully empty when we step in and Lorenzo places the painting on the floor, standing beside me, our arms grazing. The elevator opens up at my floor, and I step out, leading him the thankfully short distance to my door. I hastily put in my key code as he sets the painting down on the floor again.
“You’re not worried I’m going to memorize it?” he asks when I don’t bother to cover it from his gaze.
“What? You have a memory good?” I turn to him with a raised brow.
“I have a great memory. I can memorize anything I see once,” he says seriously.
I pause, unable to hide my surprised expression as he chuckles. “Okay, you can have my key code. I don’t mind at all.”
If it means you’ll come in and fuck me, then please remember it.
He laughs suddenly and my face turns a bright red. Did I say it out loud?
He shakes his head but says nothing, bending to pick up the painting and take it in. I direct him where I want him to place it.
