Page 61 of Escaping Our Reality

I’m just excited that she thinks she’ll still want to be with me come May.

Color me surprised, but trying to keep this thing with Lulu as ‘temporary’ isn’t working out too well for me. I’m like the poor, pitiful dog from the pound, instantly attached to the pretty lady who took me home.

Woof.

Chapter 26

CRUTCH

I did mention she’s a tease, right?

A complete and total tease.

It’s my fault, though. Because I’m a fucking idiot.

When we got to Lulu’s house after our dinner with Ray and Teresa, we decided to watch a movie. Lulu paid almost $10 to rent one of the new action movies for us to watch. Twenty minutes in, she reached over, pulling my head down to hers, wanting me to kiss her.

And… I pulled away.

“Lulu, you just paid ten bucks for this movie. We can kiss afterward. Don’t waste money.”

I will never forget my sheer stupidity for as long as I live. What man turns down a woman who wants to make out? I mean, those very words could be the death of me. Because I’m about to die right now. Literally.

She promptly obeyed my words, sliding to the opposite end of the couch. After a few minutes, she left the room without saying a word, returning a short time later in a completely different outfit than the leggings and sweater she was wearing.

I glance over at her long legs as she props them up on the edge of the coffee table. She’s wearing really short cotton shorts and a tank top. The straps over her shoulders are no bigger than a piece of string, and she obviously has no bra on. The plump curve of her breasts is driving me to the brink of delirium, and her pebbled nipples have my dick springing to life in my jeans.

Despite my latest run of stripping Lulu from her pants and panties whenever we’re together, I haven’t actually seen her without her shirt or bra. Never laid eyes on her naked chest.

Why?

Sensory overload.

She’s too perfect. I have to focus on one thing at a time with her or I’ll be too overwhelmed. And I’ve been quite content focusing on her perfect little pussy as of late. And trust me, it’s perfect in every single way.

But now all that’s standing between me and her chest is a thin piece of baby-blue fabric, and I think it might be time for me to acquaint myself with a new part of her body.

“Why’d you change clothes?”

“Got a little hot.” She reaches up, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Hmm.” I reach across the couch cushion and hook my pinky around hers. “Come closer.”

She yanks her hand from mine. “Shh.” She points to the TV. “I’m watching the movie. We can talk afterward. Don’t want to waste money.”

That little minx has no clue what’s happening on that screen. How do I know? The hitch in her breath. The uneven swallow of her throat as she pretends to ignore my stare. The way she nonchalantly rubs her thighs together.

Reaching behind me, I grab the collar of my shirt and pull it over my head. I toss it across to the loveseat and settle back against the comfortable couch cushions.

Her head snaps over to mine. “What are you doing?”

“You’re right. It’s a little warm in here.”

This time she doesn’t ignore me. But she’s definitely not looking at my face. Her eyes roam over my torso, widening in pleasure, soaking up every last detail. Despite her best efforts, she hasn’t seen me shirtless since that one night.

Why?

That same damn sensory overload.

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