By Chase Boehner
The scene was finally set. My apartment was dark except for the soft lamps I had on in my living room. Cinnamon wafted through the air from the scented candles I had lit. The spicy aroma filled my lungs in one deep breath. I exhaled slowly in a failed attempt to relax. Nothing had ever made me this nervous.
Logan and Sam would be here soon. Sam, of course, would be his customary fifteen minutes early, while Logan would arrive about twenty minutes late. I had dated both men on and off over the last few years, but the timing had never seemed right for any of us. They were two great guys who I had not been able to make a decent go with and I had definitely felt the loss of each over the last three months.
Somehow, I had remained close to both of them. They had met a few times but had never been friendly. I guess knowing you’ve fucked the same girl kind of screws up being bosom buddies. For my sake, I had to hope that could change. For too long now I’ve been alone. At some point in the last few years, I realized what a relationship wreck I was. I was never the girl who dreamed of my perfect wedding day but I also never pictured myself alone and loveless. I ached to be loved; the only problem being I couldn’t choose between the two best things that had ever happened to me. I loved two men.
For their parts I knew they hadn’t found their perfect mates either. They were always too busy with their careers and personal interests to devote the necessary amount of time to a proper relationship. I was counting on this fact to pull us all together. I had more to gain from this than they did but I hoped I could be enough to satisfy their limited needs. I had to be. If not, it was back to crying myself to sleep and feeling like a failure. I had to make this work.
Lucky for me they had similar tastes and dressing to please them only had a few requirements. My sapphire eyes shone back at me in the glass top of the coffee table. I shifted my gaze, assessing myself for something like the fiftieth time in the last few minutes. Funny, my reflection still looked the same as before. Jet black hair (freshly dyed)? Check! Matching eye liner, bra and panties? Check! Black stiletto heels? Check! Cherry red lips? Check! Red silk robe to cover it all up until (hopefully) the right moment? Check! Confidence? Work in progress; please check back in one half hour.
I needed to focus on other things before I drove myself insane, waiting for the first echo of Sam’s rough knuckles against my door. My mind wandered back over the last few months leading up to tonight. I had one glorious week where I did the “friends with benefits” hook up with Sam one night and then later in the week with Logan. I had been feeling down, much like now and just needed attention since I had once again found my life bare and wanting for something more substantial. Being naïve still, I recall deciding sex was going to fill that hole. Not a great decision, but I wasn’t making any of the right ones at that point.
I had sent out a text to each of them hoping to catch them single and in as much need as I had been. Sam had texted back right away and we ended up having a great afternoon together. We caught up over lunch.
Sam, always a gentleman, paid for our soup and sandwiches that day. As we talked I stared at his suit. He always had the nicest suits. It was dark blue and brought the depth of his hazel eyes into sharp focus. His blond hair was short and professional, and the clean shave of his face gave him a chiseled, stone look. He was a business man by day, but a metal sculptor by night; the two such a stark contrast I found him to be a complete enigma. He exuded sex and cleaned up well; his tailored suits covering up most of his scars and scratches from his sculpting. With his art selling at high end prices, income was not an issue for him. I never saw the value in it but kept that opinion to myself. Hell, I barely saw the value in most of what I did so who the fuck was I to judge.
It was enough to have him there, to see his solid chest and sinewy arms pushing against the confines of the expensive Italian wool. It probably had a higher thread count than my bed sheets and his shoulders bulged out just enough to dampen my department store panties. Needless to say I made it a quick lunch, desperate to fuck him again. I would end up mostly disappointed.
Part of the reason we hadn’t worked out was how busy he was. Sam had it all going on, but he could never commit to being around. That didn’t stop me from letting him finger me to orgasm in his car. His rough fingers had sped in and out of my pussy and it had taken an embarrassingly short amount of time until I shuddered against his hand an creamed his leather seats. In my post orgasmic bliss I jerked him off. His cock was beautiful. It was seven inches of hard muscle that I frantically freed from his silk boxers. He came almost as quickly as I did and I knew from experience that letting his cum stain his suit wasn’t an option. When his breathe shortened, I circled his crown with my lips and sucked his creamy cocktail down my throat.
I was ready for round two back at my place, but he zipped up and headed back to work, making weak apologies as he dropped me off at home. I liked that he was a responsible man and not a boy. He had his life in order and his confidence was sexy as hell. The demands of that life left me wanting and frustrated with the dregs of our lusty afternoon still stirring up buried emotions.