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Grumbling some excuse, I get up from the sofa and head to the back hallway. Just thinking about those blue panties already has my dick halfway hard and I figure why not? If she is serious, let's see where this goes. She initiated this whole thing, so it's time to get real.
I duck into the bathroom, flipping on the lights and looking around. As soon as my fingers snap open my jeans my cock is out, thick and hard, bouncing in the palm of my hand. I snap a quick photo and look at it, scowling. It looks huge, veiny, pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I have never taken a picture of my own dick before, and there is something sort of awesome about it.
But I also remember that women joke that men are always taking pictures of themselves in bathrooms. I read some dumb article somewhere about how many men have no imagination. They spend time naked in the bathroom, so they're constantly snapping pictures of themselves in the bathroom. Half the photos on Tinder is guys taking a picture of themselves in their bathroom mirror, apparently because it's only mirror they own. The other half are pictures are taken inside their cars with mirrored sunglasses and seatbelts on and everything.
Scowling, I decide to abandon the bathroom. The least I could do is appear even slightly more creative than the average jackass who's sending dick pics across the Internet, right? I zip myself back up and step out into the hallway, listening for half a second to make sure Ron is still watching the game. Then I try the first door and enter, closing it quietly behind me.
To my surprise, this is Dahlia's room. I must've gotten turned around. Here I am, in her space.
The first thing I notice is the smell. A dizzying combination of maybe hairspray, maybe perfume, maybe just her natural scent. It's light and soft on the air, bathing me instantly.
The thrill of being in her personal space, where I definitely should not be, makes my dick even harder. I unbuckle my pants, shuffling over to the window to get the last streams of daylight. Holding the phone away from me, I snap a few pictures as my hand closes around my throbbing cock, afraid to touch myself too much or I will explode all over Dahlia's pretty floral bedspread.
It's almost too much for me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from stroking myself to completion. It's so tantalizingly close, I know I could come right now, just sitting on the edge of her bed, feeling her presence all around me. This room is saturated with her. Her panties are in a neat stack somewhere in those drawers. Her long, smooth body has been between these sheets. Her fingers have stroked every object in this room.
And I can't help it. I can’t hold back. I fist myself brutally, tugging my cock almost too hard, biting my lips together to keep from moaning. Half blind, I yank a few Kleenex from the box next to her bed and come into them almost instantly, groaning too loud in this sacred space.
Panting, half spent, I know I've got to get out of here. I can't just jack off in Dahlia's room with her coming home any second. I stuff the gooey Kleenex into my pocket and pull myself together, zipping up my pants and looking around to make sure I didn't dislodge anything else in her room.
Dizzy and breathless, I reach for the door, eager to get back to the living room as soon as possible. Half a second after her door is closed behind me she suddenly appears, almost crashing right into me. I step to the side and past her, narrowly avoiding ending up with her in my arms.
“Just looking for the head,” I mutter, humiliated and trying to escape as quickly as possible. “Excuse me, sorry.”
I rush out of the hallway, red-faced and still far too turned on. The smell of Chinese food is thick in the air as I duck into the kitchen, opening the freezer and yanking out the bottle of vodka. It’s so cold that the outside of the tumbler frosts instantly when I pour myself a shot, but I down it in one gulp anyway, then immediately pour myself another.
Chapter 32
Dahlia
I can see Bunny moving around in the diner, her head sailing back and forth between booths. I keep the car running, ready to get going.
She's quick about coming to the car this time, apparently having listened to my snippy lecture the other day. As she throws herself into the passenger seat, I see her hand instantly go out for my phone and I slap the back of it lightly.
She flinches, drawing her hand back in and looking hurt.
“What?” she pouts. “I just want to check in on my new favorite soap opera: As The Dahlia Blooms.”
“Put your seatbelt on.”
She does as she's told, buckling the strap over her skinny little hips. “You seriously don't want to show me? How did the panty picture turn out? What did he say?”
“I don't know… nothing, really.”
“Oh, come on!” she huffs. “He must've said something! Wait… are you serious? Did he really not say anything at all?”
I pull the car into the stripmall with the China Fountain restaurant.
“Here, can you go get it?” I ask her, handing her my debit card. “Just sign my name. I'll wait here.”
“Wait, you're being serious here? You're not going to tell me anything at all?”
I halfway turn toward her, instantly softening when I see her sincere pout. I guess she really is disappointed and I wonder why I am being so territorial.
“Okay… fine. Just go get the food,” I suggest. “Then I'll get you all caught up.”
She practically skips out of the car and into the restaurant, dashing back out with two large plastic bags in her hands that she drops into the back seat before sliding back in next to me and buckling her seatbelt once again. Then she claps her hands lightly under her chin.
“Okay! Tell me all about it!” she squeals.
