I was lying in the bed, naked fingering myself, moving my fingers in and out, preparing myself for the evening to come. I am very wet with anticipation, my thoughts keep going back to the previous night, seeing the one of my desires, being next to him, wanting so much more but unable to have him.
I start moaning as I continue to play, now I need more than just my pussy played with so I also start pinching and grabbing my nipple, wanting so much for it to be in his mouth, wanting his cock in my dripping wet pussy. Feeling it move in and out.
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*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
Chapter 1
Richard Ignatius Pennington, Rip as he called himself, checked the card, and then checked the door number.
413; freshmen got the fourth floor of the dormitory. Sophomores got the third floor, juniors were on the second floor, and the seniors got the ground floor.
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"How are you doing Nadia?"
She looked up from the papers she had been working on and gazed into the face of the most gorgeous man Nadia had ever laid eyes upon: her boss, the Senior CEO of Heartland Global Technology. "Wonderful, now that you're here," she responded, while her body responded the same way that it always did since the first day she met him. Instantly wet and ready.
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I am constantly traveling. The work I do keeps me on the road all the time. Here I was in San Antonio. I was staying at the Omni Hotel, sitting on the corner stool at the lobby bar, having a beer and watching the basketball game. It was a quiet weeknight and there were maybe 15 people in small groups around the bar or scattered amongst the little bar tables.
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My life was a wreck. My marriage had failed and six months later my wounds were far from healed. It was early evening when I heard a dull wrap at the thick green door to my small tenement block apartment.
I peered through the small spy hole at the slender and petite shape of Natalie, my wife's best friend, standing nervously at the other side.
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A year ago, I was searching through the real estate section of the newspaper with mounting despair. Amber and I had been looking for a house that we could turn into a home ever since we'd been married. While we were relatively well off, we simply couldn't afford the sort of house we wanted where we needed it to be. As an on-call emergency manager at a chemical plant, I have to be able to get to work within thirty minutes of a call.
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I hear the hiss and screech of another train arriving at the platform down below the main level of Alewife station, the end of the Red Line. A metallic smell rises up the stairs on the gust of hot air displaced by its arrival. The doors open with a whoosh, and the clamor of passengers starts up the stairs and the escalator. My stomach clenches as the first faces come into view and the travelers file toward the turnstiles. The Saturday afternoon herd is thin, so it's easy to dismiss the men who come up from the platform: not alone, too short, dark hair, headed straight for the door.... The process of elimination continues until it's clear to me that that was not your train.
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Sophie and Kate were always just... my friends. I had known them since my early teenage days and so I had never really had a lustful drive towards them. While with so many other girls, sex had been on the agenda pretty early and I was open about my life to them, Sophie and Kate seemed to never invoke those conversations.
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Pamela had already made the picnic and packed it into a wicker basket when the boys arrived. She'd cleaned the kitchen as well, been a thorough little domestic goddess with her mom and dad away for the week. And finally she had changed from jogging pants and T-shirt into her costume. Nothing outlandish, just a simple white-muslin dress and sandals, and then to the garden to pluck daisies and buttercups and ring them into a crown and a necklace.
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The credits on my video just started rolling when my wife came home from a party. The front door opened in a natural swing, but the volume of her movements let me know that she had been drinking. I imagined that she had a couple of glasses of wine, so I immediately wondered who drove her home. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when I heard an engine make way from the house.
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