Page 8 of Full Service

My head falls back, and I groan lowly. Damn, that feels nice.

I take another sip of my wine and feel the rush of alcohol hit my system. The need I’ve felt all day bubbles to the surface as I set my wine glass down and unbutton the top of my shirt.

Suddenly, the microwave beeps, signaling the meal is done, so I pull my hand away from my pants and grab my dinner, setting it on the counter.

I wash my hands and blow on the steaming food to cool it.

Should probably eat something before I explode all over myself. That’s the civilized thing to do.

As soon as the food isn’t hot enough to burn, I nearly swallow it whole, washing it down with the rest of the wine before moving to my bedroom.

I have to get off or I may come in my sleep.

And I’ll never let myself live that down.

As soon as the door is shut, I strip down to nothing, allowing the cool air to hit my naked skin and pebble my nipples. I pluck at them and gasp at the sensation, my other hand moving down to my dick. It’s warm and hard and not deterred at all by what I’m about to do. No, it seems to encourage this deviancy.

Grabbing on to it, I squeeze it and let out a feral grunt.

Oh god, I need this. I have to do this, or I won’t survive the semester in his presence. I know I’ll regret it once I’m done, but at the moment, it’s life or death. If I don’t come immediately, I’m going to die.

Reaching into my nightstand, I pull out a dildo and some lube. Usually I’d put on some porn and get off to it, but right now, I don’t need it. I have the visual from that night. His bare ass rocking up against my crotch, making me nearly pass out from the sensual image.

I was huffing and puffing the entire time, and Everly Winslow made my cock blow.

Kneeling beside my bed, I stick the dildo onto the ground, the suction cup making a loud squeal as I attach it to the wood floor. With deft fingers, I lube up my hole and then settle back onto the silicone cock, feeling the stretch and burn of it so good as my oiled hand goes to my dick and strokes.

It’s slow for a minute until it turns frantic, my ass swallowing the dick behind me as I groan in pleasure.

Everly’s face filters through my mind, and I grip my dick harder, jerking it in time with each thrust down.

“Oh fuck yes,” I moan as I ride it faster, wishing it was him behind me. Those strong arms bracing me, those thick thighs bracketing mine. That big dick ripping me open.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” I grunt, and then without warning, my balls draw up and I explode across my hand and the floor. My body shakes and jerks, my eyes fluttering closed as I picture him—his biceps, his abs, his round, pert ass.

I sit fully on the dildo and let myself experience the sensation of being stuffed full, wishing his cum was painting the inside of me, dripping from my hole.

But reality soon settles in. This is not Everly inside of me. This was all my perverted imagination.

I really am a lonely, creepy fuck.

My hand leaves my dick, and I slump forward, sweating and panting from the exertion. It’s then that I feel the shame well up within me. I knew this was going to happen, but did it anyways.

It’s going to be a habit now.

I never learn.

I sigh, sliding the dildo from my ass and walking to the bathroom, cleaning up as quickly as I can. My cheeks are flushed, and I wonder if Everly could see my face flame that night as he rocked against me. His eyes were on mine the entire time he faced me, his hips moving rhythmically with the music. And even when he turned around and stuck his ass on my covered cock, he turned his head to watch me over his shoulder.

I never touched. It wasn’t allowed, but he touched me.

It was light, a whisper of movement across the fabric of my shirt, but I felt it.

When I concentrate, I can still feel it sometimes, the drag of his hands across my chest and arms.

I sigh as I wipe up, quickly pulling some casual clothes on before making my way back to the small living room, falling onto the couch and turning on the TV.

I don’t really see what show I turn on, my mind on Everly instead.