stressful day, Ava. And no, you can’t come over. I’ll contact you soon.
Ava: I don't want to wait. I need to feel you inside me. Please.
Me: Not tonight, Ava. Don't push it.
Ava takes a few minutes to respond, to my surprise and satisfaction, and I let out a sigh of relief as I go back to my movie. While watching, I try not to let the things I know about Ava distract me. If I’m not careful, I could make myself worry.
After fifteen minutes, Ava finally replies.
Ava: I’m thinking about you. I want to touch myself. Am I allowed?
Me: Yes. You have my permission to think of me while you rub your pussy. But, you’re not allowed to come until you're with me. Do you understand?
Ava: Yes, sir. Thank you. I miss you. Can't wait to see you. Can't wait to taste you. Can't wait to feel you.
In my frustration, I don't bother typing a response, and to my pleasant surprise, Ava doesn't text back. As the movie finishes, I imagine Ava lying on the bed in her house with her fingers firmly pressed against her clit, rubbing hard circles until she is on the verge of orgasm, before stopping herself. This is a tactic called edging. If you manage to do it right without accidentally going over the edge, it turns your sensitivity way up, and when you finally come, it knocks your hair back. Even through my annoyance, I smile at the image in my head of Ava edging for me.
Black Panther finishes up, and I lift myself off my couch. It’s only nine in the evening, but I’m ready to wrap things up downstairs and relax in my bedroom, so I walk to the kitchen and place my empty tumbler into the sink. On my way towards the stairs, I turn off the lights in the room as I pass them. With the downstairs section of the house completely dark, I turn the corner in the dining room just before the stairs, and I see a light shining through my blinds that shouldn't be there.
Before I start up the steps, I glance out the window and see headlights in front of my mailbox. A car is sitting in front of my house with its engine running, and the driver is still in the vehicle. I can’t make out who it is because of the darkness, so I walk over to the window and raise one of the blinds. The second my blinds move, the car drives away.
The first explanation I settle on is the one that scares me the most. Ava. I’m not sure if the car was hers, but it certainly may have been. So, I pull my phone from my pocket and text her.
Me: Ava, where are you right now?
I keep my eyes glued to the street in front of my house, waiting for the car to return while I await a response from Ava, but it doesn't come.
Me: Ava, answer me.
Five minutes goes by with no response.
Me: Was that you sitting in front of my house? Answer me, Ava.
The response I’m looking for never comes. Ava doesn't text me back at all, and I’m forced to go to bed without ever getting confirmation about who was sitting outside my home. But, even without knowing for sure, something tells me it was Ava, and that thought alone is enough to make me question the decisions I’ve made regarding her. Decisions that may be coming back to haunt me.
Dose
15
~ Sean ~
My living room feels different today, although it looks the same: cream-colored sectional couch, dark gray ottoman and end tables, cream and gray rug in the middle, with a gray entertainment center holding up an eighty-inch TV. I’m home alone, and I know Becky won’t be here for another hour, her return home being pushed back by a staff meeting at Bayhealth that got a late start. We’ve been in touch since the moment the meeting was pushed back, even setting up our dinner plans while I wait at home for her, which is a reversal of how things usually are. I’m used to coming home to Becky standing in the kitchen or sitting on the couch awaiting my arrival. Today is different, and it almost feels like destiny—like the universe is telling me to do it. It has been a few days since we had sex on the couch, and I’m thinking tonight is the night I can make up for that debacle.
Masturbation is a