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There’s no way to guess what to expect from Haven Marchenko. Still, she’s anything but boring. Tonight I couldn’t wait to hear what would come out of her mouth next. Maybe she’d curse me out. Maybe she’d tell a joke. She can do both at the same time if she wants. I’d love to have her here right now, pinned underneath me as I fuck all that fire and fury into submission.
What a nice thought.
Nice enough to make my cock swell and my balls ache. With a groan and a curse, I shove down my boxers and fist the stiff length.
“Can you quit being a clown for two minutes?”
I’m smiling as I think of her choking on those words as my cock rams the back of her throat.
When it comes to women, I tend to be pretty predictable. Normally, I choose easy fun over contempt and high drama. I mean, there are plenty of gorgeous women with spectacular personalities who just want a have a good time. There’s no reason to waste energy on someone who doesn’t.
At the end of the day, I make no promises and I sure as shit don’t chase anyone, begging for attention. But in the past couple of years I’ve watched both my boys fall head over heels and settle down for life. Micah and Gage are just built different. To me, fucking isn’t part of a long game, never has been. I make sure that everyone in the equation walks away happy and it’s good enough.
It's possible that a serious concussion at age eleven that left permanent damage cost me a lot more than academic skills. Maybe I also lost the piece of humanity that falls in love, that stubbornly sticks to one person and refuses to stray. I don’t expect I’ll ever be as happy as Micah and Gage.
Sometimes that bothers me.
However, right now I’d gladly settle for having Haven Marchenko suck my dick. Which she’s currently doing with gusto inside my head. Ordinarily I draw the line at using friends as jerkoff material but Haven doesn’t really count as a friend. She’d be the first to agree.
My thumb grazes the sensitive tip of my cock, idly smearing a drop of pre-cum. I bet she swallows. She seems like the type who insists on finishing any job she starts.
But this is my game and she’s not in control.
With my eyes shut and my hand pumping the length of my swollen cock, I picture flipping Haven on her back and destroying her pussy with my tongue.
She moans. She writhes. She shakes.
Yeah, she knows when she’s fucking conquered.
Good girl.
So she gets rewarded with my dick.
This time.
Next time I’ll make her beg for it.
Listen to me, making future plans on how I’m going to wreck a piece of fantasy pussy.
By the time I’m finished fake fucking Haven, I’m legitimately tired. After mopping up my cum with my discarded boxers, I roll over on my belly naked.
Nothing but class. That’s me.
As my eyes squeeze closed, I’m still kicking myself for letting Haven out of my sight tonight. The minute I wasn’t looking she took off like Cinderella fleeing the ball before the clock strikes.
Tess said that Haven had some family emergency to deal with on her side of town. I’d have to live in a cave to avoid hearing rumors of the Marchenkos and Haven is the empress of their east side crime world.
So what? I don’t fucking care.
Even if the Marchenkos are Em City’s answer to the freaking Cosa Nostra, that doesn’t scare me off. I want another chance to make my case even if there’s effort involved. Judging by the way Haven’s cheeks flushed and her breathing sped up when I wheeled her around the dance floor, she’s not immune to feelings.
Wait until she finds out that I can give her access toa lotof feelings. Fuck, she’ll be lucky if she’s able to walk straight by the time I’m finished showing off.
That pleasant thought is the last one I have before dropping off into a dreamless stupor.
It feels like mere minutes have passed when I’m jolted awake by the scream of a seagull. I left my sound app running all night on my iPad, somehow snoring through hours of bird cries and crashing waves. The sunlight is invading through half open shutters and it’s late, almost ten a.m.
That’s enough to drop kick me into action. I always keep a grueling workout schedule in the offseason so that I don’t have to kill myself getting back into game day condition. Seems like a shame to spend a late spring morning in the sweaty weight room so I throw on some clothes, add a pair of sunglasses for a semi-disguise that will fool no one, and wrestle my favorite mountain bike out of the garage.
