This has been a bad idea. From the start. One worse idea after the next.
Me, you, and my girlfriend went out last night. Came back to mine. Kept drinking. You and her slept in my bed. I crashed on the sofa. Took hours to drop off. Half-scared, half-disappointed you'd come sneaking out of my room. That's where I assumed it would lead.
I'm sitting in my boxers. TV on. Not watching it, working out what to say to you. My girlfriend comes out of my room. She gives me a kiss and heads out for the day. Looks fresh. If she feels like I do, she doesn't look it. Tells me you're still asleep. Tells me to get dressed, before you get up. She's right.
The moment I stand, the bedroom door opens. Me just in boxers. You in one of my shirts. Must have stolen it from the wardrobe. Revealing too much incredible leg. Only buttoned halfway up. Revealing too much cleavage.
I don't speak. Can't. You take a seat on the sofa. Pat for me to sit down. I do as instructed.
"How was the couch?"
"Uncomfortable."
"Lonely?"
"About that..." I start. God, you look gorgeous. You don't look hungover either.
Your expression changes. "Calling an end to... whatever this is?"
"I think it's for the best."
"Yeah..." You run your hand through your hair. "It was fun though."
"It was."
We smile. Both turn our attention to the TV. It's clear you're not watching it as much as I'm not watching it. Our bare legs are only inches apart. The shirt has ridden so far up your thigh I can see the edge of your panties. I try to focus on the TV. No, I should go to my room. Have a shower and get dressed. I stay where I am because I don't want to fight it. Not really.
Your fingers stroke my thigh. Very lightly. I look at you. You're staring at the TV, pretending your engrossed. My bulge grows and I do my best to conceal it and my best to ignore it.
I put my hand on yours to move it away. I let go and you hand comes straight back. This time when I try to move it I don't really try and we're just holding hands. Your fingers stroking mine. I gulp.
I'm just looking at you. You're just looking at the TV. I wrestle my hand from your grip and walk my fingers over to your leg. Place my hand on your thigh. Your hand on mine. I don't squeeze, don't stroke your leg, just leave my hand there. This is all I'm letting myself do and this is fine, I lie to myself. But it's not long until I'm tracing circles on your skin as you're moving your fingers further up my thigh.
You finally turn to look at me.
"One last time?" you whisper.
"It's a bad idea."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"I don't want you to... but we should."
A half-smile flashes across your lips.
"I guess I should give you your shirt back." Your hands go to the buttons. Undo one. Then another. There's only one at the bottom, barely doing anything.
I'm fully erect. Sitting perfectly still. Enjoying the torture. Allowing myself to get turned on by how much I want you and how much I don't want to do anything and how much I'm just sitting here doing nothing.
You take my hands and place them on the bottom button.
"Do you want your shirt back?" you whisper.
I just nod. And with clumsy fingers undo the last button. I slide my hands inside my shirt, around your waist, the shirt opening revealing your breasts. I'm a pathetic clichΓ© of a man but I can't stop myself.
I pull you into me and on top of me, straddling my lap. My hands on your back. Your hands on my shoulders. The TV drones on. We don't move. Waiting for the other to thrust first.
It's me. I pull you forwards, bring our crotches together. You thrust forward, grinding your pussy up the length of my dick. You close your eyes and moan and slide back. You make me pull you forward for another thrust. Slowly. Thrust after thrust, grinding like teenagers.
You push yourself backwards, arch your back. You drop the shirt from your shoulders. Remove your arms from the sleeves. You put a hand on the back of my head. Grip my hair painfully and pull my head into you. Pull my mouth over your nipple. I take it hungrily. Thrusting harder and faster. I'm gripping you tighter. Hands around the edge of your panties. Slipping my fingers around the elastic.
I grab you tightly. Take you in my arms and flip you over. Throw you onto your back. Get on top of you and thrust once, twice. And then your hands are on my boxers. Pulling them down vigorously. And my hands are on your panties, practically ripping them off. And our lips are millimetres from touching and we're naked on the sofa and we're both panting hard and deep and there's the sound of keys in the door. Shit.
And I'm rolling off you and struggling my boxers on and you're grabbing your panties and my shirt for some reason and bolting across the room and almost slamming the door behind you and breathless and flustered and with my boxers barely on and barely concealing my raging erection, my girlfriend enters.