Page 11 of Just Screwing Around

My eyes flicked towards the closed bathroom door and listened to the gentle patter of water on the bottom of the shower.

Was she using it now?

Was the gentle buzz of her toy overshadowed by the sound of the water?

More importantly, had she wanted me to see it there?

I really should make my lunch for work tomorrow. Or do some work. Or get some sleep.

I didn’t.

Instead, I moved down the hallway, only stopping when I was standing outside the bathroom door. I mentally berated myself for being a creep - again - but stayed where I was.

A faint moan floated over the sound of the shower, and I cursed under my breath. She was just a door away, doing things to herself that I had dreamed about since she’d moved in. Another moan hit my ears, and I rested my forehead against the door.

I pressed my palm against my hard dick, trying to ease the ache, but only succeeding in creating friction. That little bit of pressure, even through the denim of my jeans, had me running for my bedroom and slamming the door. I wrenched open the button of my jeans, undid the zipper and shoved them, along with my boxers, to my thighs. My hard cock sprang free, hitting my stomach and leaving a smear of precum behind.

I closed my eyes and replayed Charlotte’s sweet little moan in my head while I took a stranglehold on my dick and started jerking. My hands were dry and callused, nothing like the soft, wet, soapy hands I was picturing, but I was too far gone to care. My thigh muscles quaked, and I braced myself on the door frame with one hand while I worked myself over with the other. I couldn’t even guess how many times I’d done this to myself over the years, probably an embarrassing amount before I’d even turned twenty. Never had the heat swept through me with such ferocity. My balls drew up tight against me as pleasure spiraled down my spine and I was done.

I was gone.

My release hit the door as my orgasm went on and on. I gripped the door frame harder to keep from falling as my legs wobbled and threatened to give out completely. I panted to catch my breath as the sensation slowly ebbed and I let go of my oversensitive cock.

If that’s what the thought of Charlotte could do to me, would I even survive getting her into my bed?

******

The torture continued as the days went on. She’d set up a drying rack in the laundry room for her bras and panties. Every time I went in there with a basket full of rough denim and dirt covered flannels, I was greeted by the sight of bright lace, silk and satin.

Psychological warfare?

Maybe she didn’t even think about me seeing it. Or maybe she wanted me and was sending me a neon sign. Fuck, I hope it was number three. I was walking around half hard like a teenage boy at a pool party. I found myself staring at her ass, wondering if her mouth-watering curves were peaking out of red lace or being cupped by black cotton. The only thing I thought about at work was how soon I could get home.

“Well, I see you’re finally taking my advice,” Mom said with a smirk.

I was on my way out the door of my office, lunch kit in hand. “What do you mean?”

Mom glanced at her watch. “It’s five. That’s the time normal people leave work, so you should be here for at least a few more hours.”

“Ha ha.”

Mom crossed her forearms on the desk and leaned on them, giving me her full attention. “I assume you aren’t actually leaving on time because I told you to. So, should I assume you are rushing home to see your roommate?”

Yes, I was rushing home to try and have dinner with Charlotte, thank you very much. Not that I was going to admit that to her. I had gotten into the habit of getting up early to get some work done before heading to the work site. Then I could get off at a normal time. That way I could see Charlotte over coffee when I got up and over the dinner table at the end of the day. If she noticed the change in my schedule, she hadn’t mentioned it. I think we were both happy to have the company and to get to know each other again.

We talked about anything and everything, from memories from childhood to the weather. The one thing we hadn’t talked about again was her offer of a little mutual relief.

“You give me shit when I work too much and not enough. Make up your mind.” I tried to deflect the question, but she saw right through me.

“I’m not giving you shit, just asking. So, since you are leaving early…or, on time, you can come over for dinner. I can slow roast a chicken, whip up a nice time-consuming dessert. What do you say?”

I scowled. Normally, a home cooked meal would sound amazing, but she wasn’t really offering. She was calling my bluff and nailing it.

“Fine, I’m trying to get home before Charlotte goes to bed, I said as I dropped into the chair across from her desk.

A smile spread across her face. “Because you looove her?”

I glared at the woman who gave me life. “No, because we’re friends.”

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