I whistle as water hits my chest, the shower nozzle a good twelve inches too low, or at least that’s how it feels.
Yeah, I’m not miserable at all.
In fact, I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in…years.
Plus, I haven’t eaten this good either, and I don’t count the fancy-ass bullshit restaurants I’ve dined at. Fake smiling and making small talk and eating steaks drenched in butter that always gives me toilet chili later on.
Posey.
Started this morning with an orgasm and ended it with a douche.
I told her so, not that I’d say it to her face; she’d chew my ass out.
Seriously, though, did she go out with him for spite? She had to have known he was a dick, not wanting to commit to a date, initially not wanting to drive to see her.
Red flag.
Red flag.
Red. Fucking. Flag.
The dude was covered in them. I wouldn't have been surprised if he’d worn a red shirt tonight.
I scrub my hair harder, unexpectedly tense. Rinse. Squirt a blob of body wash that isn’t mine into the pink fluff thing hanging from the handle that also isn’t mine. Floral scents assail me that I normally wouldn’t wash with, considering they’re feminine, but at least it’s better than smelling like fried chicken wings.
Damn, that chicken was good…
I wash all over, scrubbing my chest, pits, and ass with Posey’s fluff puff, doing my thighs and hips, running its suds along my calves. The bubbles stick to my chest hair, so I spin, rinsing.
My hands drag down my chest, slowly sluicing the bubbles from my body, my hand gripping my cock. It’s not hard or anything, but it will be within seconds now that I am slowly stroking it.
Goddamn.
Who would’ve thought tonight would be such an adrenaline rush, wanting to kick that dude’s ass? The look on Posey’s face when she got into the chicken-scented car. I’m having way more fun here than I ever thought I would!
Grinning, I slide my eyes closed and stroke.
Up and down the base, hard tugs to the tip.
Behind my lids, I see Posey, which is weird, because she’s not normally someone I’d fantasize about—not because she’s not cute or pretty or sexy. But because I’m probably not her type and I’m not the kind of guy who wastes time on women who aren’t interested.
Granted, we did almost bone this morning.
A handy is foreplay, yeah?
I continue stroking and continue fantasizing. Hand on her tit, fingers on her nipple, tugging.
Brown hair. Blue eyes.
Small and perky and adorable.
Perky boobs. Great ass.
Smart mouth.
I mentally undress her; remove that conservative shirt she wore on her date tonight with the little red hearts. The jeans. Her hot pink toenails playing peek-a-boo from the toe of her heels.
Peek-a-boob.