I had just gotten out of the shower, with my body wrapped tightly in a towel. I was in the kitchen of my on again-off again boyfriend's apartment, and was looking for a clean bowl to pour some cereal in. Derek—my occasional boyfriend—had left for work at six, and I was debating whether I should stick around until he came home from work, or take off. I was leaning toward staying because I was horny, and last night had not yielded great results in bed. It resulted in about 5 minutes worth of having my ankles in the air, as Derek dropped his load in my ass. But not to be mistaken, these were 5 awesome minutes. The problem was that Derek passed out soon thereafter; there was no round two. He had worked more than 12 hours at the docks, and I could not blame him for falling out after sex. He had told me that at work they were trying to avoid overtime, so he would most likely come home early. So there was that. If he would come home early enough, we could at least have time for two or three rounds. It was at that thought that I decided on staying. I could hang out for a few hours, and perhaps tidy up the joint. Derek and his roommate Darrel were not inclined to housekeeping. I thought for sure that I was going to have to do the dishes before finding something to eat, but something changed all that.
Bending over, exposing my ass to the empty apartment, I was digging in the lower kitchen cabinets looking for some Tupperware or something I could use for a bowl when I heard the sound at the door: the deadbolt disengaging. Thinking that it was Derek—home much earlier than I thought possible—I kept digging. I nearly crawled into the cabinet, and was shoulders deep when I heard the door open. I could find nothing in the bottom cupboard except for a couple scoured frying pans, and scorched cookie sheets.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I pulled out of the cupboard. "Hey," I said without looking back. "You guys should hire a housekeeper or something. I can't find a clean—"
I stood and turned—freezing the second I completed my turn. Standing at the transition of the carpet of the living and tile of the kitchen was Derek's roommate Darrell. We stood there, a captive audience to one another for a couple of seconds. I felt myself flush—mentally calculating the exact degree the towel had covered my ass. I knew it was not much, and that Darrel had gotten an eyeful.
Though me and Derek had been involved nearly a year, I had only seen Darrel two or three times in passing. In fact, after our initial introduction—spanning merely six words—we had never spoken. And it felt that we were going to remain standing there in suspended animation for hours until someone or something would break the spell. After a few seconds, I managed to mumble some words to him.
"Sorry. I thought that you were Derek."
"Yeah," Darrel replied, eyes scanning my body. "I just forgot my badge at work. I keep forgetting to put it in my locker."
Darrel then disappeared into his room for a second, and I thought about running into Derek's bedroom to get dressed. But I chose not to. It felt sexy being exposed to Darrel. He came out with a lanyard around his neck. A small rectangular badge was clipped to the lanyard. We stood again silent in each other's presence. I found myself not wanting Darrel not to go. The more I thought about it, the more cute he seemed to me. He was tall, Like Derek—somewhere around six-four. And I always liked bigger men. He looked a couple years older than Darrel—most likely in his early thirties, and had dark brown hair.
"Hey, before you go," I said, leaning with my back to the stove. "Do you guys have any clean bowls? I want some cinnamon toast crunch."
'What?" Darrel asked? "Oh yeah. We have some Styrofoam bowls up above the stove."
When I went to reach for the cupboard door above the stove, Darrel stepped into the kitchen and did the reaching for me.
"Here," he said. "Let me grab that for you."
As Darrel reached up to the cupboard, his crotch came into contact with my hip. As he reached, I gently leaned into him.
"Here," he said, pulling out a bag of Styrofoam bowls. "I think that these will work."
I took the bowls from him. "Yeah, these will be fine."
"You're probably going to have to rinse a spoon, though," Darrel said.
I looked downward, and found it curious that he did not pull away from me. I certainly was not going to pull away from him. I was seriously prepared to spend the morning with this guy's crotch on my hip—until we worked out a better place for it. I looked at him, and gently grinded my hip into him—gently enough to where I hoped to play it off if he reacted negatively.
But his reaction was immediate, and was not negative. He grinded into my hip so intentionally, I had to grab the edge of the countertop to keep from being pushed over. I bit my lower lip, and wanted to up the ante a little bit. I turned and put my ass in his crotch, and grinded it into his crotch. Darrel hissed, and grabbed me by the hips. He proceeded to dry-fuck me for a few thrusts.
"I wish I can stay here with you this morning," he said. "But I'm on my last occurrence, and they've been letting a lot of people go. And they are charging me a tardy for forgetting my badge."
I looked back at him and smiled. "Well, maybe you don't have to spend the
whole
morning with me. I think you can give them at least a few minutes. I mean a tardy is a tardy. Whether it's ten minutes or an hour, right? Just as long as you eventually show up, you will be fine, right?"
Darrel looked as though he was considering a complex mathematical formula. "Yeah, I guess."
I reached back, and grabbed Darrel's crotch. It felt as though I had just grabbed a chair leg. I started massaging his cock and balls through the denim of his jeans.
"Come on," I said, winking at him. "Why don't you see if I can send you back to work happy? Give me a few minutes, and we'll see what I can do."
