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When I finally step into my apartment, I go straight for my bathroom. As I walk, I take off the expensive business attire that I don't care much for but that I'm forced to wear almost every day, leaving a trail behind me on the dark, polished wooden floor.
I make a fist and punch the light button on as I strip my underwear; then I start the rainfall shower and step inside the enclosure without even waiting for the water to be at the right temperature. I shiver slightly, hoping that the cold will dampen my arousal, but I know it’s pointless. Behind my tightly closed eyes, I see her beautiful face; she glares at me, determined to hate me as always.
The water turns hot, but I can’t relax under the spray. I’m too damn tense and horny for that.
I put one hand on the wall in front of me to keep my balance while the fingers of the other slide down my chest and my hard stomach until they reach my dick. It's stiff and straining, pointing ahead and slightly up like an arrow, the big head an angry shade of red. I need some relief. I can't stop myself. I never can when I think about my lovely tigress, It still surprises me that I can keep it together in front of her and don’t end up jumping her when we are in the same room.
I can see it in my head clearly. She would be ranting and raving against me, looking up at me with daggers in her eyes, her hands on her curvy hips. I would shut her up with a punishing kiss making her whimper and moan, my big hands grasping her ass. I would lift her little body effortlessly in my arms. I’d take her on the nearest available surface. Foreplay would have to be saved for another time. I'd dive right in.
My cock throbs, becoming unbearably hard, and I start to stroke its length determinately as visions of rosy-tipped breasts and feminine legs –her legs– spread on either side of my hips fill my mind’s eye.
For five years, I've wanted her.
Sometimes, I can’t believe she has been driving me insane for this long.
Before I met her –at a birthday party for her best friend Jane, to which Carl and Tony had dragged me– I had never been this attracted to a woman. Sure, I had the urges any other young, hot-blooded man has and took care of them, and there was always some pretty lady warming my bed, but not as often as one would think.
I was always too busy with work, too focused on doubling my fortune before turning thirty, making my dad proud, bringing all the other Boston’s sharks down, and making the city my own fishing pond. When I did all of that, I just kept on going, ending up making more money than I could count or could ever spend.
I did not know what else to do or how else to be, and then I saw Lynn.
Ten seconds into our first meeting, and I was already hard as a rock. Ten minutes into it, and we were already fighting like rabid wolves, incapable of understanding or controlling the passion that to this day runs between us in a never-ending circle.
I look down at my swollen cock and sigh. The poor bastard points up at me in a rage. How can I blame it?
I haven’t fed it a pussy since I met her. If it wasn’t for the constant jerking-off, my balls would always be blue.
Five years of celibacy and mad fights with a woman who can’t stand the sight of me and thinks I despise her just as much when all I want to do is fuck every stupid belief she has about us out of her system.
I’m losing my mind.
I stroke furiously, trying to get the need that is running up my balls under control, squeezing the length of my shaft and thrusting into my fist, all the while thinking about Lynn, her hot little body, and her impertinent mouth.
God, I would give the fortune it took my family four generations to build to be able to get between her thighs!
I have no idea how she looks there, and I can't even bring myself to imagine how it could be with accuracy. Bare or maybe with a little patch of dark little curls. Beyond pretty, for sure, like nothing I have ever seen in my life. Heavenly, lush, tight, wet, mine.
I'm so aroused that a whiff of her secret pleasure would probably send me into an orgasmic coma.
Just a thrust in her little pussy, and I would die a happy man.
I run my fingers down to palm my balls, and then I go back up my shaft to torture the large engorged head.
I think of how wet and warm she would feel, and my eyes roll backward.
Once more, I see a flash of her cleavage in my mind. I hear her laughter and see the tip of her tongue discretely moisten her sweet lips painted a pretty shade of peach.
Her voice fills my ears.
I wish I could picture her calling my name.
She almost never calls me Devon.
I was never one for being affectionate, but I would treasure her calling me any existing endearment possible.
I see her lips.
She is calling me.
