Good Pet

With my partial afternoon/evening of freedom in mind, I hurry to get out of my car, get in the house, and get started on some me-time.

I didn’t bother to partake of any masturbation or sexual release at the office, even though the opportunity was there, it’s been swirling around in my head. It’s been building and layering throughout the drive home, and now, the moment I step inside the house through my basement-entry, I can’t keep the thoughts back. I start immediately replaying in my head everything that happened to me.

As I thunder my way down the stairs to my “cave”, my sanctuary — the large basement-bedroom I’ve had since I was thirteen — my mind is plastered on Melissa. The way she helped me and how her face looked when she was coming to my rescue. How curvy and firm her body is. My body temperature spikes just thinking about it. My blood warms, filling me up in more places than one.

I remember when Melissa said I was handsome. How beautiful she looked as she helped me get myself together for my interview, and my cock responds by filling, growing, and stretching upward.

I stop on the stairs, gripping the handrail. The last girl to say something like this to me was the neighbor girl, Jane White. The first girl I had a crush on. The first girl I kissed and planned to make love to. Until Dad walked in on us, freaked the fuck out, and shipped me off to a disciplinary camp.

I’m scared to be seen as handsome, to have Melissa say this about me, because the last time someone complimented me that way, my life became a living hell. I lost all the ability to truly be myself and see myself as worthwhile.

My dad harassed me like a demon, and I’m afraid of that now. Though over a decade has passed, I’m right back there. I’m standing there naked, with Dad ridiculing me about my bigger body. I’m sweating and virtually hyperventilating.

Then, like Melissa really is a guardian angel of some sort and not just an amazing secretary, a vision of her appears in my head. It’s like she’s been conjured there by my fears. By my trip down memory lane. I see her standing there, the same way she stood in the door this morning when she came to my defense. I see her eyes glowing with dark, immovable power, strength, and ferocity. Her lips and eyes say, “I’m dressed like I’m fabulous, but don’t underestimate me. I’m still a tiger, and I’ll still maul you to protect the one I love, even in fabulous pink dresses.”

I remember the way she lovingly rescued me from my darkness, my impending destructive mode with a gentle hand in mine, and a gentle word in my ear. In my imagination, she does a version of it now. I imagine that she is there with me, her hand on my shoulder. One hand in mine, guiding me down the rest of my flight of stairs.

I imagine what she would say to me if she were here. If she knew the fear and desire I’m haunted by. “My dearest Tommy, don’t worry about your father. He’s old, and he is shortsighted. He’s cruel and no different than those legal aids. He thinks his view is the right one because he’s had it reflected back to him so many times, but he’s not. He is not justified in his cruelty, and just like I did with those legal, I will not hesitate to protect you against him, too.”

I imagine she takes my hand, leads me to my bed. She stands there, beginning to undress. She fiddles with the collar on her dress coyly.

“You have every right to accept the way you look.” She slowly unbuttons her dress. One by one, she goes down the line of buttons, letting me savor each motion, each twist of her fingers. Each inch of skin shown to me. It’s soft and smooth. Unbelievably kissable. If she were here right now, I might just do that. Take her place unbuttoning her dress and kiss her all the way down, with each button.

“You have every right to be attracted to me, Tommy.” At this point, her dress is all the way undone. At least, that’s what I imagine. Now I’m able to see her sexy, slim stomach and the curve of her breasts in her black lace bra. The definition that creates the perfect hourglass of her form. “Fantasies are fine,” I imagine her saying to me, her English accent even sexier, heavier than normal. “They’re harmless. And after the harm done to you today, you deserve nothing less, my dear Tommy.”

Logically, I tell myself I shouldn’t fantasize about her this way. Any more than I already have, since she’s already taken. She’s a woman I can’t have. I can’t taste her without destroying her current relationship. But I can’t help it. I’m more than a little hard now, and I’ve already unzipped my pants. I pull them down and let my dick spring free of my underwear. I put my hand on my shaft and start to stroke before I can stop myself.