Princess & Her Friend, Average Joe

I imagined her self-righteous indignation with me trying to kiss her.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing Joe? I'm not attracted to you in that way," I imagine her saying while wiping my kiss from her lips with the back of her hand. "Eww! Gross! How dare you try and kiss me. Don't you ever do that again."

I'd be so embarrassed to have my romantic advances rebuffed by her. Sometimes in the way she treats me, I'd like to slap her, force myself upon her, and have my way with her. That's how crazy with frustrated desire she makes me. Either she'd put me in jail for rape or she'd fall in love with me. With my luck it would be the former rather than the latter.

At least, in the way that things are now, I get to spend time with her every day. I get to see her every day. I get to take the image of her away with me and fantasize about her while alone in the privacy of my bedroom or bathroom later. I don't want to live my life without her in it, even if this pathetic relationship is all that I can expect to receive from her.

Her perfume made me dizzy. The softness of her cheek against mine and the fragrance of her beautiful, soft, blonde hair made my knees weak. I put my arms around her back and my fingers explored the back of her bra. I fingered the hook that gave them shape, form, and held her magnificent breasts at attention while pretending it was her nipple. My hands felt every part of her beautiful back, before imagining that we were lovers and we were about to get naked and make love on this most romantic day of days, Valentine's Day.

I wanted to unhook her bra and free her breasts for my hungry mouth. She hugged my neck and I pulled her closer. We were almost the same height and I relaxed my knees a bit, squatting down a little before squatting up and lifting the front of her ever so short skirt with my body, as I straightened my knees. With her skirt lifted high enough to expose her panties, I could feel my cock stiffening while it gently nestled itself between her legs. This is my preferred position.

Before I came over, I rubbed a balloon all over the front of my pants. I was a walking static cling man. Desperate in my desire for her and pathetic in my sexual need of her, I'd do anything for a cheap feel. I purposely didn't wear underwear today and only thing between her and my cock were the thin static filled material of my sweatpants and, once I moved her skirt up and out of the way, her thin cotton panty.

I often wondered if she knew what I was doing and allowed me to continue to do it out of friendship. Maybe, she's not so bitchy after all. Maybe, she has a soft spot in her heart for me. Maybe, she's just as hot for me, as I am for her. Maybe, she's just horny. Probably, she pities me in my mad devotion of her and doesn't mind me rubbing my cock against her body. If only I had the courage to reach down, cup her ass, and pull her even closer, I would, but I'm afraid she'd throw me out and ban me from her house forever.

She was still crying, sobbing actually. Maybe she missed a big sale at the mall. Maybe the store didn't carry her size or her preferred color in an outfit she loved. Maybe the shoes or pocketbook she wanted to buy was no longer available. Maybe her credit card was denied. Maybe, she should have a fucking problem. There are hungry people in the world, homeless people, and people with real problems. There's a frustrated guy, me, who is madly in love with her, and she's upset and crying over fucking nothing. Happy fucking Valentine's Day, you bitch.

"Oh, Joe," she said again and I swooned to the sound of her voice. Instantly I forgot my anger and put aside my sexual frustration for the imagined promise that this was my chance to be with her. I could never be mad with her. Her voice crumbled my resistance. I was as quivering as Jell-o and her wish was my command.

I imagined her saying my name while standing at the altar in church just before taking her vow of matrimony.

"Oh, Joe, I do."

I imagined our Honeymoon.

"Oh, Joe, may I blow you again?"

I imagined her holding our new born baby in the hospital room.

"Oh, Joe, he looks just like you."

I imagined her saying my name at our twenty-five anniversary.

"Oh, Joe, you've given me a wonderful life filled with romance and happiness."

Only, none of that was real and none of that would ever happen.

"Oh, Joe," she said again, as if saying my name gave her comfort. Do me a favor and move some furniture, I imagined her more realistically saying.

"It's okay, Princess. Don't cry. Tell Joe what happened."

She was as much of a drama queen as she was a damn cock teaser. She knew, no doubt, that she was driving me mad with lustful desire for her. Certainly, she could feel my cock hardening against her thigh. How could she not? She knew, no doubt, that she'd keep me around and interested by dangling her carrot of promised sexuality in front of me. Yet, that was okay, so long as she turned my cock from dangling flaccid to stiffly hard. By the pressure of my throbbing cock against her body, how could she not know that I wanted to make love to her and/or that I wanted her to blow me?

"Happy Valentine's Day, Joe," I imagined her saying. "As my special Valentine's gift to you, I'm going to suck your cock." I imagined her leading me to her bed. "Make yourself comfortable while I remove your pants." I imagined her pulling off my pants. "Oh, you're such a naughty boy. You aren't wearing any underwear," I imagined her saying while taking my cock in her hand and stroking it. "Only, as a special favor to me, I'd love it if you'd cum in my mouth and save some cum to give me a cum bath later, when I blow you again," I imagined her saying.

"Okay," I blurted out without even realizing that I was answering my imagined conversation with her. "I mean, it's okay, Princess," I said to cover up my momentary lapse in reality.

I took the liberty of allowing my cock to throb against her. It was a brazen game that I played with her and it felt so good. Yeah, I know it's a bit pathetically perverted, but I purposely allowed my cock to throb against her thigh while imagining that it was throbbing inside of her pussy.

I was waiting for her to notice. I was waiting for her to say something, anything. I was waiting for her reaction, but she ignored my throbbing cock in the same way she ignored me. How could she not feel my prick practically bouncing off her body? It felt good to rub my erection against her while imagining that I was making love to her. She must know that I had an erection and that she is the one who gave it to me. I made it throb again and again. It felt good to rub my stiffening cock against her body while holding her so tight.

Holding her is what I dream of doing every night. There's not an evening or a morning that goes by that I don't masturbate over the thoughts of sexually touching her and she touching me. I'd do anything to French kiss her. I'd do anything to see her naked and to touch her where every boyfriend she's had has touched her, and she's had lots of boyfriends. Whenever I'm with her and whenever I'm holding her in the way that I'm holding her now, I can't help but imagine her sucking my cock before making love.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, Princess, it's okay. Joe is here with you now," I said repositioning my hold of her to allow my cock to come in full contact of her soft body. "Tell me what happened, Princess." Even though I was wearing pants and she was wearing panties, it felt like Heaven rubbing the erect head of my cock against her.

Her name was Susan, but I called her Princess ever since she won the local beauty contest. We grew up together. We played together since we were in diapers. Only, she got hot and I didn't. I'm not ugly by any means, but I'm nothing like the guys she dates. She likes the jocks and I'm not even smart enough to be a geek. I'm just plain, old, average Joe.

Yeah, sure, I was on the wrestling team and I played hockey, but not enough to be good at either sport. Plus, genetically, I'm a dwarf compared to these big bruiser types of guys she dates. I always wondered if their cocks were proportional to their height. Maybe, that's her attraction. Maybe she likes big cocks. I don't have a little cock, by any means. I have an average cock. I'm just average in every way, average Joe, that's me.

"Rod, he," she said sobbing on my shoulder. "He, he dumped me," she said breaking down. "I was expecting him to give me a Valentine's Day surprise. I was expecting him to give me flowers and candy before taking me out to eat somewhere special, somewhere romantic."

Duh? Hello? What about the candy and flowers that I gave you? Are they as invisible to you as I apparently am? I thought it, but didn't say it. I was still pissed she didn't read my card, but I chose not to say anything about that either. Maybe, she'll read it later. Maybe, she'll call me on the phone to tell me that she loves me, too, and ask me to come over for my special Valentine's Day blowjob.

"Joe, I read your card," I imagined her saying over the phone. "Thank you. Can you come over? I have a special surprise for you."

Nonetheless, I so loved it when she cried on my shoulder. If I concentrated, if I focused my thoughts, I could actually feel her erect nipples against my chest. The sensation of her nipples touching my nipples made me wish I had little hands with little fingers attached to my nipples so that I could secretly feel her tits and nipples. I imagined that the feeling of my tiny nipple hands and fingers would arouse her to the point of actually wanting to have sex with me. The thought of that made me wonder that, if I took up Yoga and mastered the art of controlling and being in tune with every part of my body, if I could better feel her nipples with any part of my being. Gees, I'm so pathetic.

It took all the control I had not to touch her everywhere while holding her. I'd do anything to feel her up while kissing her. I imagined my hand cupping her breast and my other hand cupping her ass while kissing her. There is nothing like feeling a tit and an ass while kissing. Holding her and feeling her in my arms, made me swoon with romantic desire.

As my cock grew harder and the throbbing of it grew faster and more forceful, I so wanted to feel her firm breast and to run my hand along her round ass, but I didn't want to ruin whatever it was we had. What was it we had? Oh, yeah, we were friends, best friends, and she confided all her secrets in me. Hey, that's better than nothing, I guess, and better worshiping her from the inner sanctum of her bedroom than worshiping her from afar.

Still, I wondered what her pussy felt like with my fingers exploring her clit while finger fucking her. Even though I saw flashes of it before, I wondered what her pussy looked like up close before my cock was buried deep inside of her. I wondered what her pussy tasted like when my face was poised between her legs, just before my tongue took my first lick.

I knew everything about her. She knew little about me, but that's okay. That's what made it work between us. In a way we were both using one another, only she was getting more in the deal. Yet, that's okay too; really it is. I don't mind, so long as I can be with her, even if just as a friend. Besides, I knew how to play her and she allowed me to play, too.

She knew I had an erection, no doubt. She allowed me to accidentally on purpose lift her short skirt with my static cling sweatpants while allowing my erection to pulsate against her exposed panty. I loved her panties. She had wonderful panties.

It was fun to pretend that I was her boyfriend. Pathetic, I know, but it was better than nothing. I was content to play the fool to the Princess, so long as she allowed me access to her bedroom to see and talk to her daily. As far as I was concerned, any time spent with her was time well spent. No matter what we did or didn't do, I just need to be near her.

"It's over," she said. "He's such a jerk. He yelled at me in front of his friends. Then, he pretended that he was sorry and that he was going to apologize, but when he took me in his arms and kissed me..."

She started crying again. I haven't seen her as upset since Paris Hilton went to jail and Britney Spears was chastised for not wearing panties. I tried soothing her by rubbing her back while holding her tight, so tight that I imagined we were standing naked and my cock was buried deep in her pussy. Gently I massaged her back while slowly, methodically lowering my hand down to the top of her sweet ass. I allowed my fingers to rest on the curve of her backside imagining what it felt like to bend her over and plunge my cock deep inside her pussy, while my hand reached forward and felt the weight of her breasts and my fingers fingered her nipples. Christ, she made me so freaking horny that all I could think about was fucking her and her sucking me.

"Tell me what he did to you. Tell me," I said feeling the anger heat my collar while I slowly, methodically, and gently lowered my fingers centimeter by centimeter along her sweet ass.

Lower and still lower my fingers explored her body where I had never had the courage to touch her before. My hand was practically on her ass. I had the urge to grab a handful of her ass while yelling, "Happy Valentine's Day," before turning her head to me and forcing my tongue in her mouth.

"I've never been so embarrassed," she said. "He humiliated me," she said.

"Embarrassed? Humiliated? Why? What did that bastard do?"

I figured he said something she wore didn't match, was out of fashion or maybe she had worn the same outfit once before and he remembered it and made a public announcement to his friends about it.

"He, uhm," she said lifting her head from my shoulder to flash me her beautiful, blue, tear filled eyes.

In an excited rush, I thought she was going to kiss me and nearly closed my eyes and puckered my lips. I had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, but I didn't. Instead I whispered my concern.

"What Princess?"

"He lifted my skirt up in back while kissing me and exposed my panties to his friends."

My cock stiffened and throbbed with the image of Rod lifting her skirt in front of his friends. I pulled my hands higher up her back. I didn't want to be accused of fondling her in her time of need. Yet, I could tell that she was excited and embarrassed at the same time. She was easy to read. Only, I didn't know if she was excited by the thoughts of Rod lifting her skirt and exposing her panties to his friends or excited by telling me he did or excited that I was trying to get a cheap feel of her ass or excited by any and all of the combination of the three.

"Oh, my God, he's such a pig," I said feeling my face redden with the continuation of the excited imagined vision of her panty clad ass being exposed to his horny friends.

"I was so lost in his kiss that I didn't know my skirt was up in back until he stuck his hand all the way down my panty and fingered my pussy from behind."

She's got to be kidding. How could she not know? Is she that self-absorbed? Oh, if only I could be so self-centered, perhaps then, she'd have respect for me and, perhaps then, she'd want me. Only, I'd have to be a gay fashion designer or male model to be as egotistical as she is.

"Oh, Princess, I'm so sorry," I said. My cock throbbed against her while I imagined Rod sticking his big hand down her panty and fingering her pussy in front of his friends.

"Then, he tried pulling my panty down and while still holding my skirt up to the middle of my back and he did pull my panty down in back exposing my ass to his friends." She looked at me with tears in her eyes. "His friends saw my naked ass," she said stomping her foot in the way she stomped her foot so many times before, when complaining about the lack of immediate service in a restaurant or when complaining to a store manager about something she wants now and that must be ordered.

She didn't know her skirt was up in back? C'mon, are you kidding me? Do you think I was born yesterday? I wondered if I could get away with the same thing. I wanted to ask her to demonstrate what he did so that I could see her ass. Nah, with my luck, she'd be pissed at me for being insensitive, when she's the insensitive bitch. With my luck, she'd have nothing to do with me after I got a cheap look and feel of her panty clad ass before pulling down her panties, as a recreation of what Rod did.

"He's such an asshole," I said feeling my cock harden like quick set concrete.

"That's not to worse of it," she said sobbing.

Be still my heart. I imagined Rod forcing her to do something really nasty. I was jealous, angry, and excited all at the same time. I imagined Rod finally tiring of her being the bitch that she is. I imagined him forcing her to her knees and making her blow him, while his friends watched. I imagined him making her blow his friends, too, as part of his final good-bye to her. I imagined them cumming in her sweet mouth before pulling their cocks out of her mouth and giving her a cum bath. I imagined them stripping her naked and then gangbanging her.

"Did they force you to—"

"No, no, nothing like that, but his friends took pictures of my ass with their cell phones."

Lucky bastards, I thought, only—

"Bastards! They are all such assholes. Dirty bastards," I said.

"Joe, what if they post my photos on the Internet?"

Gees, I didn't think of that. What a great idea? Now, I couldn't wait to go home and look for her ass posted on various sites on the Internet. I'll be jerking off for days if I find her photos. I'd recognize her ass anywhere. She has a small tattoo of a Gucci handbag on her right hip and Fendi shoes on her left hip.

She looked up at me again and I couldn't tell by her look if she was sexually excited that her ass may be posted on the Internet or if she was embarrassed by the thought of it.

"Don't fret; I don't think they'd do that, Princess."

Immediately, I had an erection thinking about her pretty panty clad, sweet, round ass being exposed to Rod's perverted friends and her naked ass posted for thousands more on the Internet. It took all the self-control that I possessed not to lift her skirt. I wanted to see her naked ass, too. I wanted to touch her ass, feel her ass, caress her ass, squeeze her ass, cup her ass, kiss her ass, and lick her ass, as I slowly lowered her panties.

When I first hugged her, I angled her in front of her shoe mirror that she kept on the floor by her bureau and it gave me the perfect reflection up her short skirt and of her panties. I know it's pathetically perverted, but, hey, I'm a horny guy. What do you expect from me? This is part of the payback earned for having to listen to her gripe and for her ignoring me day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year.

Certainly, I could understand why Rod was equally as frustrated and exasperated with her as I was. Yet, what I imagined doing, pulling up her short skirt and pulling down her panties, is what he did. As a big, macho quarterback, he has the confidence to assert himself in that way. Only, perverted excitement aside, it was wrong for him to treat her like that. As much as I imagined doing all those things to her, I'd never disrespect her like that.

Besides, she must know that I'm stealing peeks of her panty with the aid of her shoe mirror. It's a game we play. How could she no know? She's not an idiot, she's just a vain, self-absorbed bitch, but I love her. I do. I really love her.

Yeah, sure, I've seen her panties lots of times before. She's so comfortable around me that she sits with her legs up and apart. She's given me so many up skirt shots of her panties that I wonder if she purposely does it. If nothing else, she's given me endless erections and endless jerk off material. She's such a tease. Perhaps, her flashing me her panties is my personal reward for all the lunacy that I must put up with to be her friend.