The day dragged on in a blur of lust and clock watching. I almost jacked off four times, but each time the thought of Jenny helped to pull me back. I wanted to cum with her. I needed to hold it back. It became a mantra.
I want to come with her. I need to hold it back.
I ate some lunch, something, who the fuck knows and I'm pretty sure I helped some people out. Fuck, I don't remember. All I could think about was Jenny. I ached for her. And the fucking clock was a god damned mother fucking slow ass piece of shit.
At 3:30, she texted me her address and told me to meet her there at 6. I left around 4:30 (again great work ethic), went home and took a shower. Refreshed and thoroughly aroused, I put on some basketball shorts and a tee shirt. No underwear. The head of my cock was super sensitive, and I would be naked soon enough anyway. Fuck what I was wearing. I did make sure to pack up some work clothes, just in case I spent the night. And ten condoms.
Always good to be prepared.
I made it to her place fifteen minutes early and repeated the mantra over and over in my head as I let the cruel minutes tick by.
I want to come with her. I need to hold it back.
Finally, I got out of the car and knocked on her apartment door.
She opened the door, and turned back into the room. I followed behind her, closing and locking the door as my eyes watched the provocative curve of her ass. She had on a short silky robe, blush pink, and nothing else from what I could see. I was finally able to see the tattoo that wound its way up her leg. It was fucking sexy. Delicate black lace mixed with vibrant purple roses on a vine perfectly laid on her body. The artist had obviously known what he was doing. It was placed in such a way that it accentuated the muscles in her leg and the delicacy of my ankle.
She walked over to an old worn out leather seat covered with a purple blanket. She sat down, and I moved to sit by her.
"Nuh uh," she said, throwing a hand up. "You, sit over there. We need to discuss, remember? I can't discuss with you right next to me."
Curious to hear where this was going, and pleased I was affecting her too, I obliged and sat on the sofa, still as close to her as I could get.
Her apartment smelled faintly of marijuana and her eyes were a little glazed. She must have been sitting in her favorite chill spot because chaos surrounded it. Her cigarettes, ashtray, weed, laptop, phone and a shitload of files were haphazardly scattered around it. Curiously enough, I did not see a tube of chapstick.
"Alright, let's do this," she began, reaching over to pick up a pipe and taking a hit. She paused as she held it in her lungs, then slowly exhaled out the open window right by her chair.
"I need to know that this isn't gonna get messy," she continued. "There are rules that must be followed if you want to become my new addiction."
