Between the Sheets

He texted me during the second quarter: “I miss you.”

I looked at my phone, a bit awestruck for lack of a better world. It has been weeks since I heard from J* and the girl next door, as I’m sure you are all aware by the lack of posts about them. So, you can imagine my surprise at this random text message from J* as I stood packed into the crowd last Saturday, cheering on my favorite college football team with one of my good friends. My cell phone buzzed against my hip and amid the screaming, I was in my own world. He missed me. I snapped my phone closed and tried to concentrate on the game again.

After all, the last meeting I had with J* didn’t go so well, and since then I’ve gone from spending much of my free time exploring the pleasures of the flesh - my flesh - with both J* and the girl next door to keeping our curtains closed. I saw J* for the first time at the park the other day. My eyes blazed into his back until he turned around and caught them. I looked him up and down and walked away. God, how I wanted to rip off his shirt right there. It took every ounce of my willpower to keep walking.

*Buzz*

“I see you.”

There’s nothing more unnerving than knowing someone is looking at you when you you can’t see them. He must be at the game too. I looked around trying to spot him in the 50,000+ crowd.

*Buzz*

“Come get a soda with me at halftime.”

Of course, every play to finish the half seemed to take longer and longer. I swear, the officials reviewed them all. Finally, though, the clock ran out and I hurried to the nearest soda stand. He knew where I was, so he knew where I’d be.

Then, suddenly, there he was capturing me in his arms for a hug. He was wearing a jersey and jeans, and he looked casual and sport and hot as hell. The crowd swarmed around us as he stood there with me still in his arms. “I miss you too,” I mouthed.

J* and I weren’t friends. Hell, we haven’t even known one another for long. But I felt so full with him inside of me. I loved to imagine him loving me. Thoughts of his rock-hard abs and the thin happy trail leading down to his rock-hard cock was better masturbation material than any pornography you could ever imagine.

He kissed me. I couldn’t hear the band playing on the field and the passer-bys talking about the game. I was lost in his lips and wet tongue, probing my mouth. He was pushing me back, but not away - he followed me with his lips until my back was against a wall. J*’s hands fumbled behind me and a realized that we were leaning against a door. It swung open as he twisted the knob, and we were in a dark janitor’s closet. It wasn’t classy or clean…it didn’t even smell very good. But I didn’t care. I just wanted him inside of me again.

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