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I don’t know how many email subscriptions I’ve recently opted out of because I get a little too excited when they chime with sales information, the ding making me scramble thinking he might be reaching out.
I’m frustrated, wanting to pull my hair out by the roots, when my phone dings.
I’m slow to pick it up, and then the thing almost slips out of my hand. I barely catch it before it smacks me in the face when I see that it’s him.
I stare at the notification, wondering if this is the exact moment I lose my mind. What are the chances that I’ve been lying here, thinking of him for the last twenty minutes, arguing with myself about reaching my hand in my boxers to the thought of him, and fighting it because in my head, refusing it somehow punishes him, and now he texts.
When I see that it’s a video, I gear myself up to do exactly what I’ve wanted since awareness sank into me as I was pulled from sleep.
I tickle my lower abdomen, fingers teasing the sensitive skin there as I open the video.
I’m torn between disappointment and amusement after playing the video to see it’s Alex, unfortunately fully dressed, with what looks like a construction site in the background.
Sadly, it doesn’t stop me from watching it twice with my hand slowly making its way into my boxers.
His cheeks are flushed from exertion, his eyes bright as if he’s been up for hours rather than thirty minutes like me.
Alex: Working with the construction team on the clubhouse renovations.
Me: You should be doing what I’m doing.
I curl my lips between my teeth, biting them to keep from laughing when he texts back again.
Alex: And what would that be?
The man is very aware of my personality. He knows he’s opening a door he may not want standing open while he’s in mixed company, but then again, maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Who am I to deny him if that’s what he wants?
I switch apps, turning the camera around to face my lower half, making sure to moan when I wrap my hand around my cock, fisting my length behind the fabric of my boxer briefs.
I stop both the video and stroking because I’m just too damn close, and like everything else with this man, I want it to last as long as humanly possible.
I send it over, anxiously waiting to see his response. The best outcome would be him excusing himself and running to someplace isolated so he can join me, but knowing what I do about the man, I may not hear from him for another couple of months. Well, that isn’t exactly true. I do have the event at the clubhouse in a week. He won’t be able to avoid me for long.
While I wait, I can’t resist the urge to keep stroking. The man sets my body on fire, and the thought of him watching the video I sent and getting aroused by it is better than any other aphrodisiac in existence.
The thought of him watching and touching himself, being so turned on that he has to step away to take care of himself, makes me wild. I turn the camera back on, catching my release as I explode, the sounds I make sexy even to my own ears.
I quickly send over the second video, hoping that maybe it will entice him to respond in some way.
I continue to wait and get nothing.
I’m not surprised, but I am disheartened.
I know the man struggles daily. I know it can’t be easy to want something and to also feel like that desire is a sin bad enough to send you to hell. For a lot of people, hell isn’t a concern. It’s more of an idea than a real thing.
I didn’t grow up in a religious household. My parents didn’t spout off anything concerning God or the Devil unless it suited their narrative. They surely didn’t bring up anything theological while they were sinning themselves.
I don’t see who I am and what I crave as being sinful, but I know that’s not the same for Alex. I can’t grade him on the same scale I’d grade myself or others because we aren’t even reading from the same textbook. It’s frustrating, the fact that he just can’t accept himself and understand that who he is isn’t wrong.
The whole religion thing makes my skin crawl anyway. But if I want to be in his life in any form or fashion, I guess I’ll just have to deal with it. Discounting it altogether would only push him away, and that’s the very last damn thing I want. The man is like an addiction.
Maybe that’s not the best way to describe him. It implies he’s something that will need to be eventually overcome, and I don’t think that’s the case with him.
