Between the Sheets

When the girl next door called me to see if I was doing anything on Friday, I was excited. As I walked up to her door, I was so nervous that I thought I might yack in her flowerbed. And you know, then what would I do? Pretend I didn’t see it when she opened the door, even though it would be a bit obvious that the steaming pile of vomit was mine? Bury it before ringing her doorbell and risk her hearing me and opening the door to see me digging in her mulch like her cat digs in mine? Yeah…no.

Luckily I didn’t have to deal with that because as I approached the door, it flew open and to her saying something over her shoulder. We almost collided on the stoop–she was in a hurry.

“Oh, Christ. I’m sorry. Work just called, and there’s like, a burst water line or some shit. I don’t know. My papers are *dripping* wet apparently…” She kept walking and whatever else she said got lost in the slam of her car door. She zoomed off and left me standing there, wondering what to do.

“You can come in if you want.”

J* was standing in the doorway, holding a beer. He gave me a smile that a nun couldn’t resist, and I stepped into the house. He smelled like Tag, and I had a quick fantasy about tackling him like those girl do in the Tag commercials.

“You want a beer? Or some wine. Oh, well, wait. I think the wine is all gone…You want a beer?”

“I would love a beer.”

And so he walked into the kitchen to get me a beer, leaving me standing in the entryway. I was awkward and frozen, not sure if I should have accepted the beer or if I should have just gone home.

“Oh, yeah, sit, sit. Let’s talk,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed as he walked back from the kitchen with my beer in one hand and his in the other.

“What did you want to talk about?” I cooed. God, I was cooing. Who coos? And what did he want to talk about anyway? My poorly-lit cell phone sex tape? The fact that I left a puddle of cum on his bed and didn’t offer to get it dry cleaned? Oh god, maybe he found out I was using his private bathroom. Or maybe he was mad that I had sex with his brother. Or maybe…

“Well I wanted to talk about last weekend…”

So here it was. Here it comes. Either complete disgust or I’m golden. I could see he chest muscles beneath his tight t-shirt. I hope I was golden.

“I feel like we treated you a bit…unfairly…” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What the hell? Was he a prude? Wasn’t it his girl urging me to continue?

“Unfairly?” I asked, as though I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Well, I mean, we don’t know you really. And my brother kinda just started humping you. And my wife kinda just started taping the whole thing. You ran off pretty quickly too. I just was a little worried that you did what you did to get us to like you. It was a bit unfair.”

My face burned red. I *had* agreed to the taping so they’d think I was cool. That was a bit junior high. Oh shit, they think I’m pathetic.

“We’re so sorry. Well, my wife is sorry and she wanted to tell you that. We should have never, ever put you in that position. We don’t even know you.”

I stared down into my beer, not sure what to say. It was all a little embarrassing. Here I was, with a man who makes me weak at the knees almost every night (little did he know…) and here I was, tongue-tied at his apology of taping me having sex. Really, can there be a more awkward situation?

“But…we could get to know you…” J* moved to sit beside me on the couch and my heart fluttered. Get to know me? What did he mean? Did he mean…?

Yes, yes he did. His fingertips ran on my thigh, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. In a moment, he was softly kissing my neck, my ears, my lips, his strong hands ever stroking my legs. I sighed with pleasure. It was a moment I had been fantasizing about since the very first day I noticed that they often forgot to close their curtains. I know how well he could fuck…and now it was my turn to get a little first hand experience. His brother had just been a warm up.

Inevitably, the door opened. It was like the movies, where you’re yelling at the main characters to lock the fucking door, because you just *know* that they’re going to get caught. I mean, she was just running to her office quickly. And I’d already been there a good 15 minutes.

And as the door opened, he looked up to see her standing in the entryway, looking at us. I froze, not sure if I could outrun her or if I should just start apologizing that her man was laying on me, his penis already starting to harden through his jeans.

He kept kissing. Without so much as a pause, he continued nuzzling my neck, and as she set her purse down and kicked off her heels, his hand roamed to my chest.

“Christ, wait for me,” she said, walking over to us.

Edit from Aurora: I’ve moved! Cum visit me at Between My Sheets!

(to be continued)