Todd was dozing by the fireplace in his leather chair as I tiptoed from the front door to the stairway. Normally, I came home excited to share details of my adventures. But I had come back from the city much later than intended this time, after walking for over an hour alone by through the wet streets.
Jean-Paul had understood that I had only an hour with him once more tonight. Much though I had fantasized all week about his cock, we had not discussed the possibilities of fucking directly… I could think of nothing else.
Todd saw through me as I combed my hair and slid the green sweater dress over my head.
“Aren’t you going to wear a bra tonight?” he noticed.
“I like the softness of the cashmere,” I said. “And I am wearing panties.”
“Come here,” Todd sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me abruptly close to him, so that I tripped. He held me across his lap as I squirmed to stand again. My efforts were useless, and I stopped resisting as he lifted the bottom of the dress, pushed it up to my waist, and ran his fingers beneath the crotch of my panties.
“You want to fuck him, don’t you,” Todd growled.
No, no. I just want to talk, speak French again. No, no. Todd’s fingers teased my lips, inching up to my ass, circling as I pushed against him. Yes.
Todd pulled his hand out, showed me his glistening fingers.
“Slut.” He pulled my panties down to my knees swiftly, holding my waist firmly down on his legs. His free hand came down hard across my ass.
“No!” I cried, feeling my throbbing cunt now even wetter. I was about to be late for Jean-Paul.
“You want to fuck him, I know,” Todd produced a small whip, teased it between my thighs before I felt the sting once, twice, again. Again.
My ass was hot, and I hated Todd at that moment, his finger just touching my clit before he told me to pull up my panties and leave. We had played these games before, he had said even before my first date with Jean-Paul that he was excited by my little crush, as he put it.
But this afternoon, he was rougher than he ever had been. More disturbing to me now, though, was how much I enjoyed his aggression. I wanted him to take me hard now. I wanted him to order me to stand, to bend over, for him slap my stinging red cheeks as I spread my legs wider, opened my pussy for him to fuck. But he simply stopped, just like that. I straightened my dress and put on lipstick, whipping my hair around as I glared back, more angry now at his seeming lack of interest than I realized I could be.
“Don’t wait up,” I called out as I walked out the door.
All the way down the long roads through town, I felt on the brink of tears, a humiliation I had not expected before what promised to be another lovely evening. And Todd would benefit from this, if he wanted to. But obviously he did not.
You see, I had been toying with the idea that I should no longer let myself be satisfied through masturbation. I feared that it had become an all too easy escape for me, all too good to fuck myself when Todd was too tired, or I was too horny. I felt Todd was bored by my lapsing libertinage, and I resolved that need would prompt my imagination and initiative. And indeed, it had. But now I felt the need more than ever to let my fingers circle my swollen clit, swollen now nearly all the time. I felt myself near climax as I shifted in my chair, as I changed clothing, as I propped up a leg to shave in the shower, the hot water hitting my labia. Todd remained too tired, even as I crawled across him in the night, my hands pushing his down, low, lower. “Not right now.” I could wait, enjoy the warmth and the waiting. Yes, of course I could.
Jean-Paul’s trousers bulged even as he walked off the elevator. When I let my knee push between his legs, I felt his cock stiffen. I imagined it let loose, naked, upright and wanting as I lay across his bed upstairs. It was all I could imagine as his hands ran down my body, as we made our way quickly back into the elevator before it left the floor.
Jean-Paul quickly pushed my clothes away, like paper wrapping, he ate me, devoured me like oysters, his face buried, tongue teasing, fingers probing my newly virginal pussy, my ass, yes, my climax unavoidable, and yet not ending despite my insisting yes, yes. He fucked me hard when he heard me come the first time, took me again and again, filling me with cock infatigable–it seemed–with come, the sudden flood now dripping, still dripping from me in moments hours later as I drove back into the village, as I sneaked up the stairs and ran the hot water, lay on the bed exhausted, waiting for the bath, my body still contracting even now.
“Ah, so you are home.”
Todd stood in the doorway, his silhouette startling me as I looked up at him, his strong body.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m so tired.”
“Ah, yes.” I heard the haughtiness in his voice begin again, felt my body turn away from him, from his resentment.
Todd stayed, now sitting at the end of the bed for a moment before reaching, then caressing my shoulders.
“I missed you.”
I believe he turned off the water sometime later, sometime after I fell asleep, because the bathroom was dry and warm when I woke up. I ran the water once more, then grabbed my jacket and wandered out onto the balcony while the tub filled.
In the morning, the air was cool, but hazy, even in late fall. I reached in my pocket and felt my cell phone: a text from Jean-Paul. Todd was in my bed sleeping, now his body spent, too. I wanted him to wake up, but wanted to watch him, too. The sun broke through the early fog. The road below was quiet, except for the birds, the occasional whoosh of a truck somewhere in the distance. I looked out and wondered, wondered what the day looked like now from the city, wondered about the people walking far below, talking, the cars, the buses, their diesel fuel, the coffee and bread, and radios, the exhilarating hum of the city, the smell of the sea, the faraway, the soon.