Ella spent the night. Her soft, lithe body resting beside his, did nothing to help him rest. He listened to her snoring softly off and on throughout the night. He tried to sleep but his cock was stiff between his legs. He rolled around. He tossed. He turned. He worried about waking up Ella. If he did get up, he feared in twenty seconds flat he'd be at the computer, and one fourth of a second later, he'd be deep in porn with his hand on his cock, doing what it did best.
He wanted her on Saturday. He wanted her mouth. He could imagine it.
He finally risked leaving the bed anyway, closing the bedroom door, and retiring to his "workout" room. He stripped all the laundry from the treadmill and walked until he was too tired to keep moving. After a quick shower, he headed back to bed and noticed Ella had thrown off the covers, her arm draped over his empty spot. He gazed down at her arm and sighed. Slowly, carefully he lifted it and re-draped it over his belly as he slid in beneath it.
She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled in beside him.
He smiled to himself in the dark and kissed her on the top of the head, then closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.
He laid there for another hour while his mind chatted about sex and her mouth on his cock, and her hand on his cock, and how much he wanted her. She was soft and laying next to him. He could have her, but he couldn't have her.
When he finally fell asleep it was with his erection at full mast, wondering where she was getting her ideas.
If Thursday was a bear, Friday was a total bitch. He left the computer off. He read, walked on the treadmill, tried to watch non-sexy movies, anything to keep the temptation at bay. After Wednesday, Ella had left him charged up. Blue balls, they called it, and they were for awhile; they ached. Then the aching faded, but somehow the fullness remained. More importantly, however, was the feelings outside of his pants. At work, he had tons of energy; he was charged up. On the drive to work, he thought about Ella's mouth on his cock, and he got the mother of all hard-ons.
He needed a good solid distraction.
He thought about it and was a little disgusted with himself. It had only been a week. Only a week and he was antsy and feeling a little lost.
On Saturday, he was on his best behavior. He wore his cologne, wore the sport coat she liked, cleaned himself up. They went out to see a band with her friends. They danced a little, drank a little, and he generally doted on her.
David was a loose acquaintance. He was dating one of Ella's friends. It was David who caught him in the bathroom and asked him if he was okay.
"Yeah, why?"
David asked in a hush. "I mean, you can tell me. You're not dying or something? Ella's not dying?"
"No. Why?"
"So, what's with the whipped routine?'
Jim felt his stomach boil, his blood rise. "Fuck you. I'm not whipped."
"Yeah, right. Every time she wants a drink. Every time she wants a dance. You fucking follow her around like a puppy. What's going on, Man?"
He shook his head. "Look–" But what was he going to say? Was he going to tell him about the game? Was he going to tell him he wasn't allowed to cum or to have an orgasm? Was he going to tell him that he'd just had an orgasm a week ago that had blown his mind?
He told the truth and lied simultaneously. "We were going to break up. Me and Ella, and we decided to give it another shot. Start over."
David nodded. "Right, right. So, on your best behavior for awhile. I get it."
Jim grinned and nodded. "You got it."
Then he wondered if David did get it. Maybe that's what he was doing. Maybe he was just going along with Ella's little game until she got tired of it. If she hadn't come up with the game, he would've done exactly what David had suggested. He didn't like the idea, but he knew he would have. He would have been a good boy until everything settled down, then returned to his old, selfish ways.
He wanted to punch himself in the gut.
Once Ella had had enough dancing, Jim escorted her back to the car. She gave his crotch a little pat. "How's everything?"
Jim smiled, but it was weak. "Fine."
When they got home, Ella asked him what was wrong.
He didn't want to say, but somehow it poured out of him. "I'm a lousy guy, Ella. I always have been. You deserve better. I love you, but I'm a selfish fuck."
She put her arms around him, told him to stop, but he held her at arm's length. "No. It's true. You know it's true. I'm not a good guy. I play at being a good guy, being all nice and supportive, but I'm not. I only want things for myself. I don't really put out any energy for you."
She sat heavily on the couch and reached for a tissue. "You're not as bad as you think."
He nodded, utterly depressed. "I'm not as good as you wish."
They wallowed in the silence of the apartment for awhile, then Ella smiled. "Well, I do know one thing."
He was practically pouting. "What's that?"
"For the last two weeks, I've totally come first."
He stared at her.
She stared back. "Haven't I?"
He thought about it. "We were going to break up. Maybe I'm just doing this until you feel secure again."
She laughed. "You're just doing this because you're horny as hell."
It was contagious. He chuckled, which in no short order became a full out belly roll. "You have no fucking idea!"
She motioned him toward her. He collapsed onto the couch and sighed. "Feel better?" she asked.
He smiled, but his eyes were serious. "I'm an asshole, Ella. Why are you with me?"
She reached over and began to rub his crotch. "We're making a fresh start."
He kissed her, and made it count.
She smiled and helped him out of his pants. "Do you want my mouth down there?"
He closed his eyes and moaned as if just the idea were too sweet to stand. "God, yes."
She knelt between his legs and placed her warm mouth on him, feeling it grow in her hands, feeling it harden. The color changed; the tip leaked almost right away. He wasn't just turned on; he was bursting at the seams. She remember her encouragement. She had to be strong. She had to be prepared for his reaction.
She drew him into her mouth until he shivered and sighed, feeling his cock growing even more. "Do you want me?" she whispered.
He moaned, wrapped his hand in her hair, but let it go, remembering she hated when he did that. "God, yes."
She rubbed the underside of his leaking cock on the flat of her tongue and looked up at him. "Would you rather fuck me?"
His eyes popped open. He froze. "Yes."
She swallowed his cock and gave him a long series of warm, wet strokes then paused and eyed him again. "If you want to fuck me, you can."
His leg began to shake uncontrollably. "N-now?"
She gave his cock a long lick and gazed up at him again. "No, not now, but Wednesday."
He blinked. "Wh-what?"
She wrapped her hand around his wet cock and began to stroke it gently. "It's up to you. It's your choice. You can cum in my mouth or–" She grinned and undid the buttons on her blouse. "–or you can cum inside me."
He groaned miserably. "What the hell?"
