All characters engaging in sexual congress within this story are at least 18 years old or older at the time that it happens. This is an original work of fiction, Copyright 2023 © by Christian Brooks. All rights are reserved by the author. This work is not to be published or reproduced without the authors express consent. Any references to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental. Literotica.com is granted limited license to publish this work under their own rules and guidelines that are available for viewing on their website.
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"Does this bra scream rip me off?" asked the hot strawberry-blonde, strutting out of the bedroom in only a bra and panties.
Oh hey, I'm Logan and you're in my head. It's pretty fucked up here, so enjoy the ride.
The vision in front of me is something straight out of a sexy porn magazine. This hot 26-year-old goddess strutting around in a frilly black bra that barely covers her spectacular round DD breasts. Paired with a pair of panties that are see-through except in the most interesting of areas. Both stand in striking contrast to her alabaster skin and cute freckles.
In other people's lives, this would likely be the start to some steamy and overly erotic fantasy. To my great chagrin, that's not the case in my reality.
"Amelia, why are you strutting around like that? Have you no shame, or at least a modicum of empathy, for me?"
Amelia smiles. "Shut up. You've seen me in less than this plenty of times. Now tell me, what do you think?"
I hold back a sigh. She just doesn't get it.
With every ounce of sincerity I can muster, I say, "Sweety, if you presented those for my pleasure, I would rip them off and make sweet love to you until you pass out."
Her smile grows. "Perfect. Oh, have you seen my new highlights?"
Amelia moves closer to me to allow the light from the reading lamp to illuminate her better. It does, but I try to avoid looking at her body in those sexy garments. I'm also happy for the pillow in my lap to cover up my raging hard on.
I force myself to look at her amazing hair and say, "I love the purple highlights." And I do, I really do.
"Thank you!" She says as she leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek. As she does, she notices the time on the clock on the wall behind me. "Oh shit, he will be here soon."
Yeah, all this for someone else. Perhaps I should just be happy I get to see her first. I get to see her like this before some asshole gets to put his hands all over her. And I mean asshole. That's the types that always attracts her attention. Tall, dark, bad boy, and major dickhead.
"That's my cue. Have fun! I'll be home if you need an exit strategy or someone to defend you."
I stand, and she gives me a hug as I do my best not to push my tenting shorts into her stomach. Thankfully, her pending date distracts her enough not to notice. Not that I'm ashamed that she turns me on, but I just don't want to have that conversation when her dark asshole shows up to pick her up.
Amelia says, "Logan, you should go out tonight and pick up someone to bring home."
As I'm walking to the door, I answer, "Na, I'm just going to kick back and chill."
Just before the door closes, I hear Amelia shout, "Love you, babe." Tonight I cannot share the sentiment, as I truly and absolutely love her and saying so right now would hurt too much. I could not bear saying that while I'm currently getting a view of the dirty bastard walking toward her door. He smells of cheap cologne and looks ten years older than her. He gives me a nod, thinking he's a bad-ass. I am tempted to take him down and kick him out of the building. The building I own half of. But that would hurt her.
I open my door. It looks like any other in the building, but behind my door is a massive space. I have the space of seven apartments that were expertly converted into a high-end place for me that is soundproof and luxurious. My benefactor insisted on making the changes when he gave me half the building. I suspect he was initially doing this for a high-end mistress or two, but decided with our project that I was better that I take it. Part of my benefactors concern is safety for me. So the place is super secure.
I enter my sanctuary, my thoughts drift back to Amelia. Almost unconsciously, I undress and make my way to my large master shower. Turning on the multiple jets and steam, I get in. Standing under a rain shower head and letting the water hit me from every angle, I cannot keep my mind from replaying the sight of the reading lamp shining gently over Amelia. How her skin looked so warm and inviting and her natural smell overwhelmed my senses.
Without thinking, I start slowly stroking my shaft. While imagining the weight of her, if she were to mount me, and tightening my grip to simulate her tightness while she would be around me. I'm fully into the fantasy, using my imagination to do what I've always wanted to do in real life. And my imagination is good.
It was a long shower and afterwards a profound guilt settles in. I know I shouldn't think of her like that. Using memories of our friendship to objectify her for my pleasure. I always feel this way after masturbating to the thought of her. It will pass and I know it stems from deep-seated mental health crap that causes this level of guilt. I also know that a psychologist would say it's OK to masturbate like I do and that I should just get rid of the guilt. Yeah, that's easier said than done.
I get dressed in lounge wear and use my phone to order a pizza. When it arrives, I grab a nice over-sized stiff drink and I settle in to the couch to watch TV, munch on pizza, and get my buzz on. Periodically, I check my phone just in case.
I must have dozed off, as the sound of the front door opening wakes me. Well, not the front door itself as much as the tone that plays throughout the house when the front door gets opened by an authorized person. I check my watch and it's 11:30 pm. That's early for her.
I call out, "Hey babe, is everything OK?"
She sniffles. "No, I'm going to change."
She walks right into my bedroom and I get up and make her favorite 'breakup drink'.
Two minutes later and she has her shoes off and is in one of my T-shirts. I try my best not to drool.
"Here, I have a drink for you and you can snack on some cold pizza with me."
She settles in, nuzzling next to me on the couch. She takes a pull from the straw cup I hand her. "Thank you. You are always so good to me. I don't deserve you."
I tear up, but don't let her see. She is right; she doesn't deserve me. But she also does in so many ways.
I hand her a piece of pizza and take one for myself. Through bites, I ask, "What happened?"
While she is composing her thoughts, I glance at a notification on my phone. It is a notification that an unauthorized person pressed our floor on the public elevator. I see the picture and it's the dick head that took Amelia out. He is likely here to beg or even more likely try to force his desires on her. Fuck him. I open the security app and block him from ever getting to this floor.
Amelia takes a deep breath. "Things were going OK. Not great, but OK. We had dinner and a few drinks and then things changed. The ass thought that paying for a meal meant I would fuck him and his buddies. When I said no, he tried to treat me like I was a submissive or something."
I give her space and push down any judgmental comments.
After a moment, she says, "If he was a gentleman and not demanding, I might have done a threesome. Hell, with the right person, I would try some dom/sub stuff. But he wasn't the right person and I'm no whore. Why do I keep meeting these assholes?"
