Damien in Heat

It had been several days since the encounter with Mr. Monroe, but I couldn't help constantly daydreaming about it.

That last look...

Did he notice I was checking him out?

Of course he did...

He liked that I checked him out, didnt he? Did he think about it after he walked inside, or was it just amusing to him for the time it lasted?

Was he toying with me?

God I wished he would toy with me...

I began to become less shocked by the thoughts racing through my mind, and more focused on being noticed by him again...

I needed another look from him. One that would confirm or deny my imaginations...

I found myself wanting to be home should the opportunity arise. I spent those days at home waiting for that opportunity...

It was tough. I knew he and Clinton's mom, Laura, were recently divorced. He had the house to himself (a fact that had me drooling at the possibilities), but he was a long distance truck driver, so his schedule was impossible to predict. Most likely the reason he and Mrs. Monroe didn't last long after Clinton left for college.

His car was not in the driveway on Monday morning which meant he probably headed out late the night before. I stayed at home those next few days, waiting...

I ran to the windows and peeked out the blinds every time i heard a car coming down the street...

After far too many false alarms... on wenesday... I watched his car pull in the driveway...

I fought off the urge of rushing to the door and opening it to see if he would look my way. Instead I went upstairs to my room and threw on some shorts and an old worn out tee and headed back downstairs and out the back door to the shed to grab the lawn mower...

I would have mowed the lawn all day and through the night if that's what it would have taken to get noticed...

I wouldn't end up needing to...

I had barely gotten started and was making my way around the side of the house when out the door he came... no shirt... jogging shorts...

I saw him lean on the railing out of the corner of my eye but I was heading away from him towards the road. When it came time to wheel the mower around for another pass along the driveway, my heart began to slam against my rib cage...

Is he looking at me?

I turned the mower, but kept my head down as I started back. It was so hard to look up, but I managed it...

He was staring directly at me and my eyes caught his... he had the same smirkish smile...

I waved and gave a little nod his way, but he didnt return it... he just looked back at me with a small sly grin that said he knew exactly why I came out to mow the yard...

I put my head back down at the sight of it until I had pushed the mower near even with the side of his porch. I chanced one more glance upward to see him raise his eyebrows and keep the grin as he turned around and headed back inside...

That look said "I'll see you soon."

I finished the lawn only to give the impression it was the reason I was out there in the first place, but my mind was racing again...

I rushed inside and into the shower. I began to stroke myself using the soap suds and thought about what his tool would feel like in my hands... as I washed my ass cheeks I ran my fingers over my little button and pictured him behind me in the shower... his swelling cock pressing into my crack... I came hard and watched it drip off the head... my mind occupied with the image his thick meaty piece shooting string after string of pearly white sperm...

the desire was beginning to overwhelm me...

Was he in his house alone, thinking about me? Does he know I'm thinking about him? His expression had hinted he knew I would be... a look that said he had the upper hand...

I pleasured myself again that night to the thoughts of him using that upper hand.

These were new kinds of thoughts...

I had always reasoned that meeting up with men online was just a way to scratch the itch that I had. If I chatted my way into getting a strangers cock in my mouth, I would not waste time on romantics. I enjoyed walking into their living room, or hopping into the passenger seat of their car, and seeing an erect cock ready to be inhaled. It didn't usually take long... stroke them while I worked up saliva, then several sloppy wet bobs of the head later I find the scratch for my itch sliding warm and viscous down my throat...

I enjoyed it, but in a way mattered only to me. I desired no interaction with those men.

Mr. Monroe, however...

I was craving interaction...

As I massaged my own cock, I thought about his. I wanted so badly to feel it grow under my hands as I rubbed it around inside his jogging shorts. I wanted it to bounce out in front of my face when I pulled them down. I wanted the length of it pressed against my face as I explored his balls with my tongue. I wanted the head to part my lips. All the tiny details flooded my mind...

Then the realization...

The one that solidified the current feeling as different from all previous ones...

I wanted him to use me.

Not only use me as a good release when he needed it (although, given my current infatuation, it would perfectly acceptable), but use me in a way that fulfilled his need to dominate someone.

That look...

It branded me.

It told me he'd relish the power of having me on my knees in front of him, and nothing would have made me happier than stroking that ego...