Why does he have to be so damn hot?
I was standing at the window watching Matthew bent over stretching for his morning run. He looked really good in those running sweats, and from this angle the fabric hugged him perfectly. I was getting wet just thinking about taking those pants off, feeling him get hard, his balls heavy and full.
“Stop!” I say to myself, I have to stop doing this. Daydreaming is one thing, staring openly at your friends husband while fantasising about your lips around his cock is taking things too far. I was staying in one of their guest rooms for fucks sake. I’m a guest, we’re all friends…
Just friends, right? He wouldn’t think about me that way, not in a million years! Not when he was with Candy.
I still wanted him.
It had started months ago. Candy was a friend of a friend, we started hanging out at all of the same places with the same people. Be bonded over cocktails and hating all the same things. I’d first met Matthew at the wine bar we frequented on Thursday nights. He had come to pick Candy up as they were driving out to their beach house house.
He’d stayed for one drink, and my infatuation began.
I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted him like I wanted my next breath. My body ached with wanting him and no one else seemed to satisfy me. I sat in the oversized chair in front of the full length window facing the sand dunes.
I was starting to think it had been a bad idea to come along. I wasn’t the only single person staying at the house, most of the other guests were single too, you’d think I’d just forget Matthew and focus on a more reasonable prospect. My dirty mind was having none of that.
I started to bite my lip while I sat on the chair. Matthew was out of sight having started his run but I could clearly imagine him running back up to the house and banging my brains out. I slid my hand down between my legs and clamped them together to dull the ache.
He was young and strong, he had a wildness about him that seemed to call to me. I knew he would keep things interesting in bed… in the shower, on the balcony… damn there goes my slutty mind again.
He has brown eyes and a sinful grin, I’m surprised Candy didn’t keep a more watchful eye on him. When I pass him in the hall my gaze always seems to land on his lips, there is something waiting there that I’m longing to taste.
Surely there is no harm thinking about it. It’s all in the privacy of my own mind, it couldn’t hurt anyone here. I refuse to sensor my mind as well as my actions. I’m going to let myself think about his hair, those dirty blond waves, and his fingers, I love the way he seems to rake his fingers through his hair giving him this unkempt look that makes me want to melt. Now all I can think about is my own fingers running through his hair while his head is between my legs, his tongue inside me.
I found myself spreading my legs wanting to invite him into my body. Maybe if I was wearing more than the over-sized t-shirt I wore to bed I could have resisted the urge to touch my swollen clit. Maybe if I was dressed it wouldn’t have been so easy to touch myself right there on the chair.
Biting my lip, I slide two fingers down over my clit and through my folds, massaging in slow circles. I can feel how wet I am already, my mouth parting, a soft whimper escaping. Oh how I wish it was him, the head of his cock teasing me instead of my fingers. Just the idea makes my breath hitch. It would slip over my skin, teasing before he slides inside me slow and deep. He would be so big, so think stretching me and making me ache for more.
Letting out a moan I move my fingers deeper, my hips lifting off the chair in search of a cock that isn’t there. Unable to resist I slide my middle finger inside. It goes in easily I’m so wet, a few quick movements before I add a second finger. My free hand pulls aside my top so I can feel my breasts. The cool air and my desire making my nipples hard, I tug gently one after the other bringing myself closer to the edge.
In my mind it’s him. Touching me, intruding me. My obsession growing bigger than my self control, unable to stop, not wanting to.