Seeing him there, lying on the couch, vulnerable… It was such a contrast to the man I’d come to know. Powerful muscles decorated his physique, always easily visible underneath his thin t shirts, or peeking out from his gym shorts. His closet was a collection of select colors and textures. He has such a specific taste.
Every day, I would peek into the common area, looking to see if he was about. I took care not to wake him or disturb his habits. I was already sleeping in his bed, anything else would just be a further inconvenience. But he’d reached out to me.
Alone at night I reached between my legs. I could feel the soft lips, growing wetter at my touch. They parted at the gentle prodding of my fingertips, my clit swelling at my caresses. I saw him in my mind’s eye. That beautifully sculpted body that he took such pride in. Lying just outside my reach. Smooth tanned skin that begged for my touch. Those eyes, always regarding me as if a million questions were choked by the dam of his tongue. He never asked. I wondered if he ever would.
He was such a beautiful man. I’d seen the other girl that came over at times. I also saw the way he looked at her, and how she looked at him. But I never heard them enjoy each other. I was curious if maybe they went to her place, or waited until I was away. I hoped they wouldn’t let my presence come between them. Still, I sensed sexual tension that always existed in this place we all called home. Him. Me. And the old man who lived at the other end of the house.
I wanted him. I wanted to please him. How long had it been since he had made love to a woman? Did he want to? Was he shy? I wondered how he’d react to my touch. If his body would respond out of need or desire. He was so respectful. But also so unusual. I wondered how far his basic instincts would take him. Would he be animalistic?
I slid my fingers deeper inside my wet pussy. With my other hand I fondled my breasts. My nipples grew harder and protruded against my skin. I imagined his lips wrapped around the pink nipple. I wondered if he dreamed about me. Working my pussy, I dreamed of him. Of uncovering the bulge I’d seen in his gym shorts. Loving him with my lips. My tongue.
I came, soaking his bed with my sweet juices. I smiled. Briefly, I considered wiping the mess clean with a towel. But then I turned over, pulled the sheets over my naked body, and fell asleep.