Following the Rules

So my boyfriend told me that he'd be studying abroad. And maybe, I might have been just a little bit pissed.

I'd met Adam when I was a freshman and fell hopelessly in love. We'd planned on moving in together at the start of my junior year.

So yeah, no. This news did not make me happy.

The worst of it was that he'd waited 'til June to let me know. Seriously, like what the actual fuck? When I calmly asked why he'd waited so long to spill, Adam said, "I'm sorry babe. I didn't want to upset you."

Of course we had a big fight. And of course, we fucked like bunnies to make up.

So fine, he'd be gone for a year. We'd be ok, love conquers all. But I was still fucked in the bad way.

You see, I'd been scouting out places for us. We'd talked the whole year about moving in together. And now, all of my friends had their housing set up for the next year, but not me.

I was panicking when I stumbled across a listing for a house. It was close to campus. Adam and I went to check it out. It was owned by an older guy- like 30 or so- named Mark. He explained that he'd recently divorced, the place was too big for just him and figured a tenant could help with the mortgage.

I liked the house and Mark seemed cool enough. I was worried he'd try to act like my dad, but you know, I guess that was stupid. We would be roommates, nothing else, no big deal.

The only thing that worried me was when I caught Mark checking me out. I mentioned it to Adam that night as we went over the pros and cons. "Babe, come on," Adam said. "You're hot and you know it. My boys always check you out. It'd be weird if he didn't."

I supposed that to be true enough.

I mean, I am fit and I love my boobs. They're 30b, which look kinda big on my petite frame. When I was about 15, guys said that I was cute. When I left for college, I guess I was prettier or maybe just a bit sexier than cute. I dunno. I'm not tall with big bouncy boobs. "Hot," is a description of me that I reject.

Still, my green eyes and long black hair do tend to draw attention, I guess. But look, I'm only 5'1" and my ass is just too small. I mean it's firm and all that, but I've never been accused of having a bubble butt.

But Adam was right, in that Mark was harmless. And so what if he checked me out? It wasn't like I was any better. For example, what drew me to Adam were his abs. I noticed him in the gym and it took two months of me shamelessly flirting before he finally asked me out.

Our relationship was originally based on fucking, but that mutual lust grew into something that was much more.

Wait, what was I talking about? Oh! The house!

Yeah, I signed the lease, moved in in August and Mark was cool with Adam crashing there until his flight. I really appreciated that. We didn't see much of Mark. He was either at work or in his room most days.

In the days before Adam left, we talked about ground rules. So long as he didn't fuck some chick and I didn't let some guy fuck me, we were golden. We talked about making the rules more specific, but Adam said, "Come on, Elise. That's all that really matters." And he was right, though if the truth be told, I'd have added just a few more things for clarity.

I don't know if it's a flaw or a feature, but I thrive on order. That's why I'm studying accounting. Follow the rules and the numbers will come out exactly as they should. Heck, I knew that it wasn't necessary for us to say we wouldn't fuck other people, but saying it out loud made me feel a lot better- more secure, I guess.

It's stupid, I know, but that's how my brain works.

So I drove Adam to the airport and cried like a little kid all the way home. I was going to miss him so much. But thank God it wasn't like when my parents were kids. Did you know that people used to have to write things on paper, put it in an envelope and buy a stamp just to say, "Hi,"?

That's crazy, right?

Of course I know about the postal system, but I never got a letter or anything like that. I swear, for the longest time I thought mail was just something you

put straight into the recycling bin.

I'm sure I could live without the internet, but is that really a life worth living? The jury is still out on that one.

#

So anyway, Adam was gone and I was sad. I studied and went out, but that was becoming a bit of a problem. Hot guys would hit on me. I shot them down, obviously. But if I was a bit drunk, I found myself wondering a few times, "What if?"

Judge me all you want, whatever. I have a really high sex drive and some of those guys were fucking gorgeous. I remember getting wet once when this one dude whispered all the dirty things he wanted to do to me into my ear. I almost felt guilty about it but then I remembered the agreement: No fucking. So I didn't fuck that guy. I did, however, cum twice thinking about what he'd said after I got home.

Again, not a breaking of the rules.

But it did get me to think. I could imagine crossing that line if I was lonely, drunk and horny. And with two of the three being a constant, I needed to govern myself. So I stayed home more, talked to Adam as much as I could and sent him vids and pics and dirty voice notes so that he wouldn't forget all that he'd left behind.

"Hey Elise," Mark said to me one Friday evening as I was making dinner. He'd just gotten home from work. "What are your plans for tonight?" He'd always ask when our paths crossed like this. It was chit chat and I'd usually talk about a party or a bar where I'd planned to meet up with friends.

"Nothing," I replied. "I need to take a break from having fun."

Mark nodded appreciatively. "I know that feeling. So what are you making? It smells delicious."

"Chicken quesadillas. Can I make you a plate?" I'd made similar offers before, but Mark had always politely refused.

I was mildly surprised when he said, "That would be great."

So I made dinner and we ate at the dining room table like actual adults. It was surprisingly cool. We really didn't know one another very well and chatted long after we'd finished eating. I loved when he insisted on cleaning up after. Adam had never done that, but I guess that I'd always let it slide because damn, my boyfriend was a stud.

What's weird though is that my perception of Mark changed. I guess he wasn't that old at 31. I mean yeah, he was far too old to hang out with, but that was about it. He easily made me laugh and came to realize that Mark was actually kind of cute. He wasn't cut like Adam, but he was definitely in good shape.

If I was older or he was younger, I could have pictured myself having a crush on him. But that wasn't the case, so I didn't.

We were much more comfortable around each other after that dinner. He'd leave his bedroom more often and we'd regularly have great conversations. I caught Mark checking me out more frequently, but I didn't mind, not even a little. Instead, it made me feel tingly. The thought of a man- an actual grown up adult!- finding me attractive was sexy.

Nothing would happen though. Looking was just fine.

#

Our relationship continued to evolve. I found that I enjoyed living there and being around Mark. Before, I had always worn my bra at home. I'd also not change out of the clothes I'd worn to class until I went to bed.

But do you wanna know something? I fucking hate bras. They get hot and since my boobs aren't big, I really didn't need one. Small and perky does have its advantages. So I relaxed and dressed more casually. It was often my very cute pajama bottoms and one of my tank tops.

I swear, I wasn't trying to tease Mark. He definitely noticed but never said anything. There was this one time I caught him looking at my boobs. He blushed and looked away. I laughed until I realized that my nipples were hard. Motherfucker! At that point, I might as well have been topless.

But Mark was cool. He tried his best to play it off. I kind of liked that. It was sexy. Later that night, I imagined him stroking his dick as he imagined fucking me. Not gonna lie: That made me crazy horny and so I rubbed my clit. I came just from knowing that I'd turned Mark on.

I would accidentally tease Mark from then on. Ok, fine, maybe it wasn't completely accidental. I just loved knowing that I got him a little spun up.

It wasn't anything too scandalous. For example, sometimes I'd accidentally brush my boobs against his arm or back. Sometimes I wore shorts and tops from high school that clung to my skin. My nipples would get hard and my clit would tingle. Sexy? Yes. Cheating? No.

Soon enough, the nature of our relationship changed again, but this time it wasn't my fault.

On my 21st birthday in November, Mark was in the kitchen. I was in just my top and pajama bottoms and in desperate need of coffee. As I walked down the hall, he said, "Come here, birthday girl!" Mark was clearly in a good mood and looked a bit handsome in his khakis and crisp white shirt.

I dunno what happened, but he gave me a bear hug and for some reason, my clit began to throb. I could feel my pussy getting wet as the hug lingered longer than it should have. I can't swear to it, but I think I felt him get hard.

What the actual fuck! This was not good.

When he left, my mind was reeling a bit. I didn't know what to make of it. Part of me wanted to be angry with Mark. He knew I had a boyfriend, for fuck's sake! I imagined telling Mark off that night or the next day.

But this conviction was undercut by the fact that my pajama bottoms and panties were off. I was rubbing my pussy, thinking of Mark getting hard and wanting to fuck me. As I continued to play, I felt frustrated. I kind of wished he'd have made a bigger play. The thought of him fucking me made me cum incredibly hard.

As I changed my sheets, I was annoyed with myself. I loved the hug and even how wet it had made me. I just couldn't be mad at him. As for myself, I was a little. I even felt a bit guilty and thought of my agreement with Adam. The rule hadn't been broken, but still.

I needed to draw a line. If this continued, I might want more and maybe Mark would too. Yeah, this hugging bullshit needed to stop.

#

My red line survived for about twenty four hours.

The next morning, I had a hangover and felt like death. Mark saw me, gave me another big hug out of pity and told me to go to bed. "Tell me what you need and I'll take care of it.

I loved that. He was so sweet and kind. And for some inexplicable reason, the feel of his embrace made my head feel a lot better.

I shouldn't have been surprised. I thrive on physical contact and affection. I adore being held so fucking much, oh my God, you have no idea.

I decided that my red line had been a hasty overreaction. He'd hugged me. So what? It wasn't like I was going to let Mark fuck me or anything. I mean, sure, we both probably got turned on, but what of it? That's just a natural biological reaction.

After that, I started hugging Mark for just about any reason and he did the same. Good news? Hug. Bad news? Hug. Just in need of a hug? Hug.

This felt normal, even when I could feel him get hard. I didn't mind because it turned me on like crazy. It would have been murder on my self esteem if it made me horny but not him, you know? I just figured it to be a very sexy, unspoken compliment.

I still continued to go out, especially now that I didn't need a fake ID. The temptation I felt for those guys who'd hit on me was pretty much gone. It was strange: Lately, whenever I got a bit drunk, all I wanted to do was go home. And then maybe I could give Mark an innocent hug for just being awesome.

I had a night like that a few weeks later, Mark was in his room when I got back. I was disappointed and was really tempted to knock on his door. But I didn't. I might have been drunk, but I wasn't that drunk.

So I went to my room and got ready for bed.

Me and Adam had always slept naked. But once he left, I felt more comfortable in pajama pants and a t-shirt. But sometime around my birthday, I began to sleep in just my t-shirt and panties. I guess it was a symptom of feeling comfortable and safe around Mark.

With that said, I wasn't so wild as to leave my room in just panties. My ass may not be big, but it still looks amazing, especially when I'm rocking a thong. Showing off to Mark would have been too far, even by my standards.

After I changed, I remembered that I needed to brush my teeth and maybe go potty. I thought about putting on my PJ bottoms, but didn't bother. Mark was in bed and I was a bit wobbly from the alcohol. It wouldn't be ideal if Mark caught me in just my panties; it also wouldn't have been the end of the world.

I was startled when I stepped into the hallway. Mark was in the kitchen. I quickly recovered and said, "You're awake!" A bit too excitedly. "One second!" I then rushed into the bathroom, peed, washed my hands and brushed my teeth. When I stepped out, I asked, "So what are you doing up?"

For whatever reason, the idea of Mark seeing me in my tank and black thong was no longer a concern. It was actually kind of exciting.

"I was just pouring myself a drink," He said, his eyes lingering a bit. He was only wearing athletic shorts and looked hot for an older guy. Fuck! You have Adam! Don't think that! "Would you like for me to pour you something?" He asked.

I was drunk, so of course not. But since I was drunk, I said, "I would love that." As he was getting out a tumbler, I just felt this wave of affection. Mark was kind, a good friend and never hesitated if I needed a hand. He was the older brother I never had who I sort of wanted to fuck.

I hugged him from behind. "What's that for?" He asked as he laughed a bit. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Because I came home because I missed you and wanted to hug you and got sad because you were in bed and..." I drunkenly rambled on. I do that. I was giggling and feeling a bit silly. And maybe horny, too. Check that. I was definitely horny.

"You need to let go if I'm going to get you a drink."

"No," I said, almost sounding petulant. I liked hugging him too much to let go. "Why are you drinking so late?"

"Couldn't sleep. I was just letting my worries get the best of me."

Suddenly, I felt all protective. I didn't like the thought of Mark worrying about anything. I insisted that we go to the couch. It wasn't just because I was having dirty thoughts. I really did care about him, and the thought of Mark feeling sad or stressed really concerned me.

For his part, Mark didn't argue or resist.

So there we were on the couch, sitting side by side. I leaned against him, then wrapped my arms around him. The embrace was awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but not so uncomfortable as to make me let go.

"So what's worrying you?" He tried to evade the question, but eventually opened up. I got a bit jealous- which is weird!- when he said that he still loved his ex wife. She'd moved on while he hadn't. That broke my heart.

Mark eventually leaned back with me firmly holding on. He was now laying length wise on the couch. Since there was no room for me to sit, I crawled on top and rested my head against Mark's chest. Fuck, I loved this. I missed it so much. I thought of Adam, followed by a brief stab of guilt.

Mark's dick was getting hard. Fuck! I could feel it pressing against me. I might have positioned myself- maybe accidentally, who's to say?- so that his cock was right against my pussy. I really wanted to grind on him.

As much as the idea turned me on, it spooked me. This was getting to be too much. I should've gotten up. I should've gone to bed, but I didn't. Not yet. The warmth of the alcohol, the warmth of Mark's body, and the warmth in my pussy convinced me to linger.

The agreement popped into my head. Maybe I really didn't have to go. Mark and I were cuddling and definitely not fucking. I ran the numbers and it checked out: I was in the clear.

I felt my hips begin to move and started to rub my tingly pussy against that big dick. "Elise, sweetheart," Mark asked, "What are you doing?"

"Getting more comfortable," I muttered, trying to sound innocent, but my slight slur killed the affectation. "You're my friend, Mark. I just don't want you to feel lonely or anything." It seemed like he wanted to say something, but must have thought better of it.

My pussy was aching. The feel of his big hard cock felt so good on my clit. I wiggled and got even more turned on when I thought about how my panties and his thin shorts were the only things that were keeping his dick from sliding into my needy little cunt.

The thought of ripping off his shorts formed in my head a few times. But I resisted. Rules, you know?

And then I felt Mark grinding against me as he kissed my forehead. A slight groan escaped his throat. That was so intense that I rubbed against his cock faster and harder. I looked up, kissing his chin, his powerful jawline.

He went faster too. God, I wanted him to fuck me, but rules, damn it, rules! A short time later, he gripped me tight. I could feel him cumming. Knowing that it was me who'd just made him explode in his shorts was insanely hot. I humped faster and faster until I felt my own orgasm. It hit like a wave and washed through my body for a breathtakingly long moment.

I couldn't stop myself and gave Mark a long, deep kiss. We then kissed again and again. I could feel him getting hard. If we didn't stop, I was going to be riding his dick soon. But rules!

So I reluctantly broke away from the kissing and felt such need as I looked into those arctic blue eyes. I had to admit it, Mark was hot too. Not like Adam, though. No abs, fewer well defined muscles. But Mark easily made up for that with his maturity and intelligence.

I wanted Mark so bad, but I couldn't, we couldn't. With no small amount of regret I said, "That was way too fun. I think that's why I should go to bed now."

Mark didn't want me to go, but understood. When I got to my room, I closed the door and took off my damp underwear. I rubbed my clit and came again. I still felt drunk. I was also tired and horny. I fell asleep while lazily rubbing my pussy, blissfully unaware of the days to come.

#

My eyes popped open the next morning. I thought of the previous night. I felt sick. Guilt and embarrassment coursed through my veins. I didn't have an excuse. I was drunk, sure, but I knew what I was doing. Mark was probably disgusted by the fact that I was a cheating slut. I wanted to die right then and there.

So I avoided Mark. I couldn't face him. And part of me was angry because he didn't shut me down like he should have. I'd made a mistake.

But I didn't tell Adam, nor would I. We had our agreement, so really I'd done nothing wrong. Technically at least.

Mark noticed. He correctly read the room and gave me space. I knew that he felt terrible as well. We'd messed up a good thing. I didn't know what to do, so I pretended that it had never happened.

A few weeks later, it was Christmas. I went home for a few days, but the house was packed with relatives. I'd been relegated to an air mattress, which was not cool. Since Mark was gone, I cut the trip short and drove back. I was looking forward to being alone so that I could think.

When I pulled into the driveway, I saw Mark's truck. Great. No alone time. I'd have to go back into hiding.

He was on the couch when I walked in. He helped me carry my stuff in. Before I could close my bedroom door, Mark asked, "Can we talk?"

"Sure," I said. I wasn't excited about it, but we needed to. I'd just been delaying the inevitable. So we sat on the couch apart from each other. "I guess this is about that night?"

"Yes."

"Look dude, it happened, it shouldn't have, and I've been feeling like shit."

"I figured as much," Mark said. "I played my role in it, so it's not on you. How did Adam take it? I understand if he doesn't want us to talk."