I knocked on the door again. "Steven?" I called out to an apparently empty apartment. I couldn't help but pout. Here I was with surprise churros and my boyfriend was nowhere to be found. I tapped my foot and huffed. I didn't want to just leave them on the doorknob for him. What if someone took my delicious gift? I grasped the knob, turned it, and, surprisingly, it yielded. How irresponsible of him, I chided as I closed the door behind me, just leaving his door unlocked for any maniac to enter.
I entered his well-lit apartment. I placed the bag of churros on his kitchen table and wandered through his inner sanctum alone, quite enjoying my minor act of voyeurism. There was the couch on which we cuddled to watch movies together, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm holding me closely against him. Here was his bathroom, where he showered and presumably furiously masturbated to memories of me every morning. And here was his bedroom... I took a flying leap onto his covers and inhaled deeply, breathing in Steven's aroma.
A book I didn't recognize sat on his nightstand. I picked it up.
Consider the Fork
, its title proclaimed it to be. I glanced through a bit of it: a history of cooking. How like him, history and cooking together in one book. I felt a tinge of disappointment at not having found it for him myself. At least that strawberry slicer I had gotten for him had already been a success. My mouth watered at the thought of the icebox cake we had made together, clad only in aprons, and then eaten together wearing even less, using our bodies as plates, using our hands to feed each other and our tongues to clean each other...
Voices. I started out of my reverie. Steven was home! I decided to surprise him. I placed the book where I had found it and crept towards his bedroom door.
But there was more than one voice outside the apartment. A woman's, too. My eyes narrowed. Who was
this
bitch? As the door swung open I pulled back to avoid detection.
"-again for coming over on such short notice, Rose," Steven said.
"No problem," replied the mysterious Rose, with a slight Chinese accent. "Thank you for carrying the table. I could have gotten that."
"No, no, I insist." Their voices were drawing closer to the bedroom. Where could I hide? Under the bed? No, I wanted to be able to see them. His closet? The louvered doors were perfect: I could peer through the slats. I snuck in and closed the door behind me, standing between a pair of cargo pants and a
Majora's Mask
t-shirt. With my face against the door, I had an excellent view of the room.
A moment later, the two of them walked in, Steven carrying a bulky item while Rose had only a large, cloth bag. He set it down on the carpet and as the two of them got it upright, I realized it was a massage table. I smiled. That's right, he had mentioned getting massages before. I was surprised she did house calls. I was surprised
anyone
did house calls. Hadn't people stopped doing that forever ago? She must be a pretty good masseuse.
Once the table was upright and made, Rose told Steven, "I'll let you get undressed. Just call for me when you're ready."
"Sure thing." She left the room. Steven began undressing as I bit my lip. Part of me knew that I should just come out now before my situation got any more precarious, reveal myself, explain what had happened, and continue with my day. But another part of me, the part of me between my thighs that currently had its arm wrapped around my brain, cajoling it into agreement, wondered just how often I would get a chance to watch my boyfriend get a massage, to enjoy this sort of intimate scenario as a secret witness. Could I really just toss aside this serendipitous situation over a puny moral scruple or two? Wouldn't it be ungrateful to deny what the universe had so graciously granted me? And if I ever changed my mind, I could just turn away. There really wasn't any downside to continuing to watch.
My teeth tingled as I watched Steven undress, the casual way he pulled up his shirt over his broad, hairy chest. How he lowered his pants and boxers to the ground, unaware he was being watched, his cock still flaccid, a tiny thing almost hidden by his pubes, his balls hanging beneath. I had to wonder: had I ever seen it like that before? Not satiated and exhausted after emptying itself into me, but simply and innocently flaccid? No, I didn't think I had. By the time I got to it, it was already hard and erect, irresistible and impossible to deny. Seeing it like this, as something as natural and normal as his hand or ear...I bit my lip. I already felt my cunt warming, aroused by the excitement of spying on his casual nudity. I kept my eyes on that adorable member until he had laid face-down on the table and covered himself with a thin, white sheet that did nothing to hide the wonderful curve of his ass.
"I'm ready," he announced. I mentally agreed.
Rose entered shortly after. The table was angled so that I had an excellent side-on view of Steven. She adjusted the sheet before rubbing his body through it, her hands moving smoothly and with purpose. From their earlier conversation, they seemed familiar with each other. How many times had this other woman seen my boyfriend naked? Touched his body? Just where had her hands wandered? I took the chance to observe her.
