Who knew something this small could feel this good?
I barely have to spread my legs; barely have to wait that long, I’m so easy.
Eyes closed, I try to push out the image of the man in the room next door but find it impossible—his image is all I see. Duke.
Focus on Brian. What’s the visual on him?
Ugh, he’s not as cute.
He’s too corporate looking, too stuffy and boring.
Brian is your type.
Not anymore.
Too bad.Duke will never be anything more than a distant memory once he’s gone—you can watch him on television and you’ll have fond memories of him and stories to tell the grandkids.
I shove away the thoughts.
Focus on my vagina and my pleasure, spreading my legs a bit, tilting my head so I can see what’s going on.
Picture a man’s legs where my hand is…
It only takes me thirty seconds to come, my small moan filling the air, thighs doing that thing where they tremble, only just slightly.
Satisfied, I lie there.
Unsatisfied, actually.
I sigh.
Lifting myself from the bed, I pull up my shorts and go to wash the vibrator.
Then I stop myself before pulling open the door, remembering he’s out there and could have his door open.
I crack mine open.
Peek through the crack.
Nothing.
It’s dark and silent, so I creep out and sneak into the bathroom in the hallway and flip on the light.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I make quick work of washing my pink toy. My face is flushed, hair in a messy top-knot. Small gold hoops are still in my ears.
White tank top.
Sleep shorts.
“I wonder what he’d say if he knew you were in here whacking off,” I tell my image, a tired smile staring back at me.
It’s time for me to date.
Maybe these city boys just get too much pussy and don’t think they have to work for it.
Duke isn’t wrong.
Brian isn’t working for it, but I do want to see him, if only to catch up. The conversation is meh, but there’s a bit of a history there, and that’s worth something, hey?