I shove my phone into my desk drawer with a frown. I’ll admit it, ever since I divorced Mary, I haven’t wanted to settle down. Sex, sex, nothing but hot, dirty, raw sex is all I’ve wanted and I just figured that’s all I’d ever get for the rest of my life.
And last week, I was perfectly content with that. I was more than content; I was happy. Settling down with one person was a shitastic idea with a side of stupidity. Where was the variety and fun in that? Why the hell would I agree to it, when I can get almost any woman I want, whenever I want?
But now that I’m looking at Daphne through the eyes of someone who wants to love her as a woman, not a little girl, I'm starting to realize that maybe sex, sex, nothing but hot, dirty, raw sex for the rest of my life is … a little shallow.
I look at the file in the upper left-hand corner of my desk. It’s for a client—a huge new client that I just closed with this morning. I should be shouting from the rooftops. It’s not every day that I sign a $500 million contract. I should be ecstatic over it.
Instead, all I can think is that I can’t wait to tell Daphne tonight. Everything is better when I can share it with her. And then I start to think about how much I want Daphne, and then I start to compose more sexts in my mind.
Which, I absolutely cannot keep doing. She asked me to stop, so I need to respect that boundary.
I’d wanted to sext with her until she came, and then spank the monkey and take a picture of my hard-on to send to her. That had been my super complicated, super grown-up plan.
Why is it that I turn back into a teenager around Daph? I’ve been horny before in my life, but not like this. It’s like I can’t ever be satisfied—that I can't finally have “enough” sex and not want any more. Even as I’m cumming inside of her, I’m always planning on how and where and when I’m going to fuck her next.
Now, as I look down at the bulge in my pants, I realize that even if I don’t send dick pics to her, I can take care of myself, at least right now. It won’t feel as good as tonight, when she wraps her soft hands around it, but I can do all right by myself. I’ve jacked off enough on lonely nights.
I hurry over and lock my office door, and then lean back against my desk, unzipping my Brooks Brothers slacks and taking my dick out. It's already almost fully engorged—purple and red veins running every which way on it and with a sigh of relief, I squirt some lotion I keep in my desk for just this purpose into my hand and start running it up and down my dick.
God, that feels amazing. I close my eyes, imagining spanking Daphne, her perky ass cheeks turning red under my hand, as she lies draped over my lap. Maybe I could convince her to wear her hair in pigtails and a short plaid skirt when she comes over tonight. Not that she did either of those things when she was a kid, but…
My hand is running up and down my dick faster, tighter, as I imagine spanking her until she begs for me to stop, and then making her get to her knees to suck my dick. I can use her pigtails as leverage…
I grab a tissue off my desk at just the last moment and catch my cum, trying to shoot across my office. It’d be hard to explain where white, sticky cum came from to the cleaning crew. Finally, finally, my dick has shot out everything it has and I sink back against my desk.
As nice as that was, though, I can’t wait for tonight. Jerking off without Daphne, just to the memory of her, simply isn't enough. Not anymore.
I seem to have become addicted to her, and even more bizarrely, I’m okay with that. I’m great with that.
Something I never thought I’d say.
45
Daphne
I look around the table, grinning. It’s girls’ night out with all my besties, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Everyone is always so busy right now with their boyfriends that it makes it hard to find time to get together, but tonight, we made it happen.
And even more awesome? Now I finally have a boyfriend of my own. After the last year of watching all of my best friends hook up with hot, sexy, rich men, it’s finally my turn, which is fucking awesome.
Even if I can’t tell them who it is.
I take a swig of my cosmo, unwilling to let that small detail ruin the happiness I’m feeling.
“Soooooooo…” Carla says with a huge grin, “tell us what happened last weekend. Your birthday and your,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “very special birthday present. Was it as amazing as you thought it’d be?”
Oh wow. I’d forgotten I’d even told them I was going to do that. That Daphne seemed so far away, like she was a different person than me. Fucking Roger seems like the world’s most awful idea—what had even possessed me to want to do that, let alone want to do that with another guy there too? Just … ewwww. Now if Dominic wanted to have a threesome, I bet he’d bring back a real sexy guy, someone ready to fuck me seven ways to Sunday.
I realize that everyone is just staring at me and I haven’t answered Carla’s question.
“No, it wasn’t,” I say baldly. “I’ve never been so bored in my life.”
“Really?” Gisele squeals in surprise. “How is that even possible? I mean, two giant dicks in one bed? Both of them focused just on me? Sounds like heaven.” She sighs happily, and I have to wonder for a moment if Gisele has actually been in a threesome already. Maybe Stone brought home a band member and they fucked until dawn.
“Well, turns out, they weren’t so much focused on me as they were on each other,” I say drily.
“What?” The babble of shocked voices echoes around the table as everyone just stares at me. I shrug.
“Roger was gay?” Lisa finally gets out.