my hand on his dick as I continue to massage him, and I can feel him grow harder with each stroke, which is doing crazy things to my insides. His hand is at the base of my neck as he slowly kisses my trembling lips and watches me intently. I try to pretend I’m not nervous as if I know what I’m doing, but I’m shitless and even my hands start to shake. I want to close my eyes and enjoy what he’s making me feel, but he’s right—if I close my eyes, I will be with Jeff and he will probably be with Emily. What we are to each other is a quick fix, a type of superficial physical diversion. In my professional opinion, we’re both in great need of some major therapy.
“In The Air Tonight” by Phil Collins
The sounds that come out of her mouth are fantastic making my balls twitch with excitement. She outright asked me to close the deal and “fuck” her, and I’m not sure who’s taking advantage of whom, but I don’t bloody care. Sara feels nice in my arms and against my body, and as dirty as it may seem, I swear she smells of sex and it’s driving me bonkers. I really am a sick fucker; I don’t have any bleeding clue as to how involved this bird is with that tosser from last night. I shouldn’t be kissing her, itching to touch every inch of her, or driving my cock into her, but fuck me if she doesn’t seem perfect. I haven’t touched anybody since meeting Emily. I don’t even reckon wanting to, up until this crazy brilliant moment. All I have to do is lower her shorts and bury myself between her long legs and it’ll be epic. She wants this, I want this, and there’s no other place my dick wants to be than inside of her cunt…
I keep replaying in my mind the way she says my name; it’s out of this world. When she fixed and tucked my hair behind my ear, I knew it was just a small gesture and yet it felt intimate and different with her. What would it be like to have a woman want me, take care of me in ways only a true lover could? How sweet would it be if she shouted my name over and over as I pound the sadness out of her? She makes me outrageously hard. I start to drown in my illusions of us fucking, but I could easily continue just kissing her all day. I mean, how long can this lust bubble last before it all disappears?
My conscience, which is buried somewhere deep beneath my lust, is explaining to my enthused knob that what this beautifully broken ballerina and I are doing means there will be no going back. I can’t touch Sara like this and hope to have a shot with Emily again. Am I banging Emily’s best mate to get Emily out of my system? Probably. Am I all over this poor girl as a way of sabotaging any chance I may have with the one girl I know I can’t have? No doubt. I need to stop thinking about Emily; she made her choice and it’s not me. She wants Louis, everybody wants Louis. Sara, she’s my choice and I need to be a good choice for her, right now. I want to be somebody’s bloody choice. Isa didn’t choose me, Brandy didn’t choose me, and Emily certainly didn’t choose me…I need to make sure Sara chooses me!
As I kiss her lips slowly, she almost stops stroking my rod and just watches me without blinking. I see how every kiss affects her, it’s different—not bad different but nice different. People should only kiss with their eyes open, otherwise they’d miss this. I fancy how my kisses are making her smile and blush. She’s quite exquisite when she smiles. She needs to find a good fella that will only make her smile and often. I can’t help but mirror her giddiness as I try to get my fill of her by slowly and tentatively kissing those swollen lips. Her stupid bloke from last night, he did this. He made her question her worth. How could she think I wouldn’t want to see her lovely face as I fuck her? Does she not know that any man who gets to touch her should consider himself blessed? She’s beautiful and smart, why would she