of my yoga pants. On the screen, the guy pulled his cock out of the blonde’s mouth and bent her over the counter. She spread wide open for him, and he positioned the purple head of his cock at her opening and rammed it deep inside of her. I imagined myself uttering her frenzied moans and thrusting my ass back against him as he pounded away at me with that thick cock. Damn but I needed to be fucked.
Rubbing from the outside just wasn’t getting it done. I slid my hand inside my yoga pants. They were already damp at the crotch because I never wore panties with them, and I pushed two fingers inside my dripping pussy, sliding them in and out until they were covered with the moisture oozing from my tight little hole. I glided their slickness over my clit and moaned at the burst of pleasure that seared through me and threatened to take my breath away. Faster and faster my fingers flew over my swollen little nub until an electric heat exploded between my legs. I arched back against the couch, grinding my clit hard against my hand and biting my lip to keep from crying out.
It wasn’t a great orgasm, but it beat sitting around the rest of the evening with a case of blue clit. At least I hoped it would. I still had that yearning ache for a thick, hot cock to stretch me out and fill me. I changed the channel to something more innocent and sat thinking about guys I could call after David got home who could help me fix my problem.
A little after ten keys rattled in the lock and David walked in. He saw me in the living room, and taking off his jacket fell into the chair across from me. He looked frazzled; tired and frustrated and about at his limit.
“Sorry I’m late, Jenna.”
He looked so contrite, his earnest blue eyes pleading for forgiveness from his haggard face, that I didn’t have the heart to be mad. “It’s all right, David. Don’t worry about it.”
I got up and walked over to the sideboard and filled a glass tumbler half full of the scotch he liked. “Here,” I handed it to him. “You look like you could use this. How was your day?”
“Thanks.” He gulped down about half of the glass in one swallow. “It was long and basically sucked. How was yours?”
“Not so bad.”
“Kids give you any trouble?”
I smiled. “No. They never do.”
“I suppose not.”
There was a sad wistfulness in his tone, and I knew he was thinking about Camille. I felt bad for him. His life had to be pretty hellish right now, but he was a stand-up guy who did what he had to do without complaining. He would have worked himself to death for the kids and Camille, who wasn’t even here to appreciate it.
But I was here, and I understood and appreciated the sacrifices he was making. It hit me that the charcoal gray suit David wore really set off his dark good looks, its cut emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. He looked pretty damned hot, actually, despite the weariness.
“Here,” I said, moving to take the glass from him.
As I leaned in, I caught a whiff of cologne mixed with David’s own scent and whiskey. Little tingles went off in my clit and pussy, and I almost fumbled the glass. I turned away to hide my confusion by topping off his glass. Down girl!
But why not? He was single. Couldn’t get much more single, really. With his schedule, he didn’t have the time or energy to date. I doubted he had been laid once since Camille died a year ago, and the poor guy probably needed to get laid worse than anybody else in the city. So why not? Wiggle it in front of him, let him know it’s his if he wants it; he seems like the kind of guy who can handle the rest.
I slid the refilled glass back into his hand and stepped around the back of his chair. Leaning over the back, I began gently massaging his temples. He tensed under my fingertips at first, but after a little while he relaxed and sank back into the cushions with a sigh.
“Jenna, you are a gem. I don’t deserve you.”
“Nope, you don’t,” I agreed
Michael Cunningham
Janet Eckford
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Author's Note
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