Gym Junkie

His dark hair hangs over his face, and he licks his lips and strokes his dick in his sleep. I smile. Brock is not the kind of guy that I would ever end up with, anyway, and he’ll probably be on his bike searching for his next plaything before the week is out. I’m worrying for nothing.

Why do I always have to overthink everything? Just take it for what it is: a bit of fun.

A bit of fun with a really hot guy who is the polar opposite of Simon.

I would be an idiot not to have some fun with him while I still can.

I go to the bathroom and use the toilet, contemplating the choices in front of me. I can either:

A) Ask Brock to leave and regret it for all of eternity.

B) Fuck his brains out and feel like a dirty slut again.

C) Spend some time with him, lay out a few ground rules, and see how

he handles it.

He may not want to take the time to get to know me, but I suppose all I can do is ask.

I wash my hands and brush my teeth.

If I fuck him, he will leave, and I will probably never see him again.

But isn’t that what you want?

If I ask him to leave before I fuck him, I will be kicking myself tonight. And he was right, my vibrator could never replace what he could give me.

I really only have one choice. Spend the day with him, set out some ground rules, and perhaps build a friendship so that we can have a week of casual sex without me feeling like a wayward nun.

Then we part our ways as friends. Voila! Problem solved.

I get my bad boy fix, and then I go back to Simon and live happily ever after. I smile at my reflection in the mirror as I fix my hair.

Girl, you’re a genius.

I walk out into the living room to see Brock stirring. He stretches as he opens his eyes and sees me, his smile slow and lazy. “Good morning, Pocket.” His voice is husky and sexy.

Damn. Maybe we could skip the getting to know each other part and get straight down to business.

No! Play it cool.

“Good morning.” I smile.

He sits up, resting on his elbows, and my eyes drift to his bare chest and strong shoulders. His olive skin has a golden tan to it.

“Sleep well?” I ask.

He frowns and lies back down. “No.”

I smile. “I slept like a baby.”

“I bet you did,” he mutters dryly. I sit down on the bottom of his lounge, and he lifts his legs to put them onto my lap.

“Where are you taking me for breakfast, Tully Pocket?” He yawns.

I rest my hands on his bare feet. “I know just the place.”

“Or we could just skip breakfast and go straight to the sunscreen part.” He raises his eyebrow in question.

I giggle. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would, actually.”

“Nope. I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll take you to my favourite café. The coffee is so good.”

He rolls his eyes, draping his forearm over his eyes. “Is this like a date?” he mutters flatly.

“Yes, so I expect you to be witty and charming,” I tell him as I stand. “Maybe even romantic.”

“It’s too early for that shit. And I don’t do romantic. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I don’t bark. I’m going to have a shower now.” I make my way to the linen press to grab a towel. “You are not welcome to come in.”

“I can’t, anyway. My back is fucked. I’ll be lucky to walk again today.”

I giggle, make my way into the bathroom, and step into the shower. My stay trained on the door. I don’t have a lock. What would I do if he walked in right now? Would he? I wouldn’t put it past him.

Stop it.

I quickly wash myself and get out in a rush. After drying myself, I walk into my bedroom in a towel to find him lying in the same position with his eyes closed. Poor bastard. He really did sleep poorly. He’s exhausted.

Now, what should I wear?

I put on my black crochet bikini. Lucky for me, I bought this baby as a just in case I need to be sexy incident. I throw on a short summer dress that’s flowy and white, pulling it over the top of my bikini. I pull my long hair into a high ponytail. When I finally walk out of my room, Brock is gone, and I walk up the hall to investigate.

He’s urinating, the bathroom door is wide open. He looks up casually.

I gasp. “Close the door will you.”

“Why? It’s just pissing. Everyone pisses.”

“You’re an animal,” I say with a shake of my head as I turn and walk back into the living room.