It’s fine. Everything is fine.
This is normal. People flirt. People have moments.And then they go to their separate bedrooms and pretend they’re not imagining each other on the other side of the wall.
Naked.
I scrub my hands over my face and climb into bed, rolling onto my back, the sheets cool against my overheated skin.
Tomorrow, I will be more of a gentleman. Tomorrow, I’ll be less of a pervert.
Tonight, I just need…
I get comfortable against my pillows, feeling around the comforter for the TV remote, clicking on Netflix to the last documentary I’d been watching.
Close my eyes, running my hand over my stomach, down into my briefs.
I lift my hips to shove down the waistband, freeing my dick, making it easier to stroke.
Bare legs.
Pink lace.
The sway of her hips as she moved to the stove, completely unaware she was frying my brain right along with those eggs.
My chest rises. Falls.
Hand strokes, up and down my hard cock… picturing Poppy behind my closed lids but doing my best to picture someone else. Anyone else. An Only Fans model. An ex-girlfriend’s tits. Whatever celebrity.
All I see is tan, round ass.
I stroke harder, teeth biting down on my lower lip, willing my orgasm to arrive, needy, urgent.
Fuck it feels so good…
I imagine her mouth swallowing me… eyes looking up as she takes me as deep as he can.
Up, down, up, down…
I groan softly, shifting my hips.
Spreading my legs wider.
I need to get laid…My cock wants to fuck…
Imagine her above me. Riding me in nothing but that pink bra, while I lean up to suck on her rosy nipples through the fabric as she fucks me.
My tongue wets my lips, chest rising and falling…
So hard.
I play with myself, fondling my balls, pressing down on my taint the way I envision Poppy would.
I moan with pleasure when the first wave of an orgasm surges its way through my veins, starting in my toes… up my legs, causing them to shake a little.
Goddamn it feels good.
Haven’t jerked off in ages, either.
Might be time to start doing it on a more regular basis.
