I start off gentle, teasing myself. This is one of my favorite things to do. I like to imagine a guy kissing me and grinning slowly as he trails his thumb over my nub.
Tonight, it’s Mike whose massive bulk is between my thighs. I easily imagine his hands in place of mine. I bet they’re rough and calloused, not to mention big. He’d feel so good entering me with one finger, stretching me out and preparing me for his cock.
I moan gently, my eyes falling shut, as I slide into myself. It’s nowhere near as good as it would be with Mike, but it’s good enough for now. I bite my lip and moan out Mike’s name as I plunge my fingers deep in my pussy with a wet sucking sound.
“Fuck, that feels good, Mike,” I whisper. I can’t be too loud or someone in my house might hear. I’d never live it down if someone overheard me masturbating because the people in this house are very square and very ordinary.
My eyes close again and my back arches as I reach deep.
“Oooh,” I breathe, tingles going through my pussy. “Mmmm.”
I stroke my clit with my thumb as I penetrate myself with more fingers. The pleasure builds and builds but I can’t quite bring myself over the edge. I try again, reaching deeper while spreading my legs. My thumb is rapidly strumming my clit now, and I’m so close, and yet I can’t get there. My body strains again, praying for climax, but it just won’t come. I collapse, sweaty and flushed on the mattress, unhappy and desperately frustrated.
This happens sometimes. No matter how turned on I am, I can’t make myself finish.
I try touching my nipples as I work on my pussy, thinking furiously of the men next door. If anything, the sex sounds outside my window crescendo, and I can hear a man groaning with exertion. But nothing helps. My body can’t get over the edge I so desperately want to reach.
I snatch my hands from my shorts and huff. I’m so horny that I’m tempted to run next door and throw myself at one of the DTT brothers. There has to be someone willing to sleep with a virgin like me, right?
But I force myself to stay in bed. First of all, sex with random strangers isn’t me. Second of all, I have to work in five hours. The last thing I need is a hookup keeping me awake all night. I’d fall asleep at the espresso maker and end up fired, which would have serious consequences. Getting laid is not worth being kicked out of school, no matter how desperate I am.
I lay back and curse myself for dreaming of the men next door. Am I being creepy? I hope not. Don’t people imagine celebrities and porn stars all the time when they masturbate? What’s the difference between that, and picturing guys I’ve seen in real life?
I close my eyes tighter and hope that I can rid my mind of these dirty fantasies, but it’s no use. If anything, it gets even worse because instead of one man, now I fantasize being surrounded by a group of them. Yes, I’m taking off my clothes for a bevy of alpha males, who look my curves up and down with appreciation before satisfying me the way I need.
Holy fuck! What am I thinking? Group sex? A gang bang? Now, things are really getting out of hand. But I’m so far down the road that I can’t stop. My hands shift over my curves, pulling at my nipples before stroking my little bud. I imagine satisfying each man in turn, even as they satisfy me. The pleasure is immense, and this time, I reach my peak. With a delirious scream, my back arches almost painfully as my toes curl and lightning bolts shoot through my pussy.
“Mike!” I scream. “Brent! Justin! Peter!”
It doesn’t matter that neither Mike, Brent, Justin or Peter know who I am. I just found ecstasy at the hands of my fantasy men, but the thing is that they’re not quite fantasy because these gorgeous men are real, and they live next door.
To be continued …
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Sneak Peek: My Boss’s Father Megan
Megan’s on a date with her boss Brian when they’re interrupted by a gorgeous older man.
I’ve heard a lot about the Matterhorn. It’s a well-known spot that’s frequented by professionals of various industries. It’s supposed to be a high-class venue for after work drinks, and has a really different vibe from the dive bars and flashy clubs Mira and I typically seek out. For one, the restaurant is tucked into a quiet corner of the city making it feel like I’ve left New York altogether to arrive somewhere new: somewhere quiet and more peaceful. I bet this place would feel so romantic with the right person. But with Brian, it’s going to be bad, and I’m sure of that fact.
The building itself looks like a castle. It’s a sturdy deep red brick, intermixed with floor to ceiling windows. A large stone chimney protrudes just before the roof meets to form a point. There is a deck off to the side of the building where a few patrons are sitting, sipping on wine and other cordials of their choice. A pergola makes a faux ceiling over the deck with purple and white flowers hanging daintily from its wooden beams. Fruit trees border it on three sides, granting diners privacy as well
