Too Much
“You can’t be in two places at once!”
“Duh, idiot! You have to choose one!” Kell replies to me.
Kell’s naked body is beside yours and stroking your arm with her plump hand.
Being with a beautiful woman in bed should full of pleasure, but you’re stressed.
As usual.
The conversation is not making the moment any better.
“Yes, I did choose one,” you say.
More strokes on the arm, but you know where the arm is going after a few more strokes.
“And that wasn’t a choice for me,” she says. Her intense brown eyes lock on to yours. “Again!”
You’re hoping that your cock will at least twitch this time. You wish for the blood to begin flowing.
“Babe! I’m not made of money. I’ve got to work. I don’t understand how this is so hard to understand.”
Your large cock is still sticky with your drying juices. Your groin is still sticky with hers. You look at her full lips and recall them crying out your name in pleasure some thirty minutes before. You’ve napped since then and could nap more now if she let you.
But she won’t let you.
Perhaps if she used those lips on your cock for once...
“You don’t always have to take the out-of-town jobs,” she says. She begins the circles which precede their descent down into hopes for more.
She’s right. You wish you had never told her that you had a choice.
There it goes!
Her sensual hand makes a sly shift from your elbow to your side. You flinch for a moment at the connection just like always. You’re ticklish there!
The truth was that Kell was too intense. She wanted too much. Too much of your money. Too much of your attention. Too much of your time.
Sometimes—well, often—too much sex! But only her way.
There it is! Chancelor’s correct. Damn him!
“I’ll be home in two weeks, babe,” you say. “I’m sorry. I think I might get a promotion after this job! I need that promotion.”
Her hand falls flat on your hip and slows there. Waiting. Hoping.
You can see the hope in her eyes on her wide, lovely face.
“You need a better job,” she says. One of her long curls falls across her face, but she does not adjust the distraction. You love her hair and this seems to be “in your face”.
“Fine for you to say! You’ve had a cush run in marketing!”
Her hand begins to slide down. She might be able to feel some of her own died juices now.
You say, “You don’t work half as hard and make twice as much money. Can’t say I find that fair!”
Her hand connects with your cock and caresses the shaft.
Limp.
If only she would suck you!
You want to add, “Seems like everyone I know makes much more than I.”
Your jealousy is showing!
You also don’t understand how others can recover so soon after sex.
More jealousy!
Her hand squeezes your cock more in test than as a sexual play.
“Try millennia of male domination of society and you tell me what’s fair,” she says. Her voice has gone dark.
“I see you are not up for more,” she says. Her lips tease at the word “again”, but do not say the word. I hear the sound all the same.
“Can you please me a little longer?” she says with a sigh.
“Yes, babe,” you say. “Let me get the lube.”
Same routine as always. She’s always ready for at least two rounds. You... you are different.
As you go to the cabinet, she says, “I can’t promise I’ll be here when you get back!”
Shit!
Just a non-important exclamation? This has important nuance.
She’s lying there and spreading her legs when you return from the bathroom with the lube.
Despite her moans and cries of deep sensual enjoyment as you manipulate her sex, you hear her last words (not counting “Fuck”, “Yes”, “Oh”, “Baby”).
She means it! She might not be back.
Again.
The last time she left, she found someone even you thought was attractive. The only reason she left him—and the only reason she returned to you—was because she caught him cheating on her.
No surprise when she finds losers.
If only you could satiate her!
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