I'd been sitting reading, with the lights out and just a lamp on in the sunroom at the rear of the house. Nero heard you first, lifting his head and then going to the back door and looking about, alert. There was a full moon, and I couldn't see anything in the backyard. But I knew there was someone there, outside in the garden or the neighbor's garden. Nero is never wrong. Anna's sons go outside to make calls on their mobiles, and Nero always knows they are there before I hear their voices begin strange, one-sided, half-grunted conversations in the darkness.
But no voice started up this time. Nero stayed alert but was turned to the side of the house away from Anna's, and I felt a rush of adrenalin surge through me. Like raw heat. And putting my book aside silently, I stood and crept back into the house and to the big dining room window that looked onto the narrow side strip of ferns and hanging baskets that screened me from my neighbors.
And there you were. My pulse raced now because in the light of the full moon, I recognized the silver light reflected from the steel studs on your leather jacket.
I felt my cock jumping, and my hand reached involuntarily for it as I slipped, panting, into the deeper shadows of the room.
Now that I am totally attuned to your arrival, I hear you outside. You are trying to enter the house stealthily. I remember you from the bar the other night, and from two nights before that. You looked at me broodingly, and I knew you wanted to hook up then, but I wanted to run you; I wanted you to want me so badly you'd track me down and take me roughly.
You were rough trade; that's why I was attracted to you at the bar. Just what I want.
I know it won't take you long to find the back door open and break into the house. I rush back there and grab Nero and carry him to the spare room. I drop him in there and close the door, hoping he understands that tonight I don't want a guard dog to protect me.
Then I hurry to my bed, and I hear a creak on the back step as I strip my clothes off, tossing them aside in a frenzy to be naked, so I can arrange my body in a provocative pose that I know will arouse you. I spread my legs for you, pretending that I'm still asleep. I want you to enter me thinking that I'm still asleep, that you are taking me unaware, roughly-against my will, supposedly. But, of course, not really.
I want it rough, and I want you to think you are taking it from me. I'll fight you, but only briefly. I'll let you overwhelm me. I want you to think I have melted to you, almost against my will. I want you as long and thick and virile as possible. I want you moving deep inside me, roughly and fully taking me.
* * *
I had seen you in the bar several times and watched men swarming around you like bees around a honey pot. And I had seen how you loved that open attention, and I looked away as I was not one to give you that or to compete. But when I looked back, I found your eyes fixed on mine, and I knew I wanted you more than any of them did.
Then last night I sat closer, waiting for an opening, and you laughed, as someone felt you up with his mouth buried in your neck, adding loudly, looking my way, into my eyes, "I like it rough sometimes. I like to be surprised. Overcome."
Soon after, your groper and his friend had pulled you up and you had left, arms wrapped about each other. And I had followed the three of you, my body aching to have you. I zipped up my studded leather jacket and climbed on my bike, imagining you between my thighs, curling my body over my machine and for once regretting the deep throbbing rumbling roar it makes as I move off, following the white Saab you three are leaving in.
