Prologue: Harrison
All I can think as I am lying next to him is how I want him to touch me, to turn me over and kiss me like he’s never kissed anyone before. I want him to continue to lick my pussy and plunge his dick into me.
But sadly, he does none of this.
He continues to lay next to me oblivious to my wants and needs and tries to sleep. I say to myself he is only like this because of our age difference, maybe he is only satisfied with one round which means he is an inconsiderate bastard. How dare he get me so utterly wet that my thighs are soaked, and my wetness starts to form a puddle on the sheets. Fuck him. I lay there and play what just happened over in my mind, how he slid his fingers inside of me making my stomach clench and my pussy grow wetter with ever teasing stroke, as I ache for him to be inside me. I think about how I pull at his hair while we exchange slow and hungry kisses. But most of all I think about how good it felt for him to be plunging himself in and out of me as I tighten around him. How I scream and moan embarrassingly at every stroke, touch, and lick. I remember how he seems to become drunk with desire as he looks at his dick sinking deep inside me. I love that part of him, the way his eyes change when he looks at me, glazed over like I am the only thing he can think about. I roll over to look at him.
He is one very sexy man.
I think the first thing I noticed when I met him was how his eyes seemed to change color every time I looked at him.
I have a thing for eyes.
The second thing I noticed was whenever I looked into those eyes and he would take a step towards me I felt the sudden urge to get down on my knees and suck him off right then and there. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth thinking of the horror as people watched and of all the mothers reaching to cover their children’s eyes. How both our managers wouldn’t have been happy with us, and I use the word happy very loosely. I roll back over facing the wall and nonchalantly scoot away from him hoping he might come closer to me, but he doesn’t. And so I wait, trying to get a little rest until it is time for me to go. This is the worst part I think, the waiting, I miss just talking to him like we did before all of this happened. But I guess that’s what you can expect to happen when you have sex with someone you barely know.
“What time do you need to be back home,” he says in a soft voice full of sleep.
“Twelve,” I reply trying not to convey anything unusual in my tone. This is one of the reasons I hate men, I told him what I wanted and maybe that wasn’t the smart thing to do but I have no clue how he feels about me or what he wants from me or if he even wants this to go anywhere. All I want is for him to be inside me and maybe the occasional Perkins “date”. I do not expect him to invite me to Thanksgiving or Christmas I do not expect him to remember my birthday or introduce me to his friends.
He is not mine nor will he ever be.
Which kind of sucks because he’s not half bad except for his communication skills and the ability to piss me off without caring about how I feel. It doesn’t even matter if we never spoke at all and the only thing we did was have sex, because this very sexy man has fucked me in a way that no one else has and I’m not ready to give that up. You can’t just expect for a girl to go away if your fucking her the way this man does.
Right?
