Contrast Ch. 02

And some more.

And some more.

Before he knows it, it's noon on Sunday and they're spooning with her facing the clock and his cock still inside her. And she's sighing and telling him he has to go, she's got things, commitments. Even though his genitals have never been this sore from overuse in his entire life, he thinks about saying, Just one more time, and he's pretty sure she'd go along with it. But he doesn't want to make her late for anything, so he sighs too and pulls out and kisses her, long and deep, and starts getting ready to leave.

"How does your tomorrow night look?" he asks, seeing the hungry way she eyes him as he pulls on his underwear and jeans.

She wrinkles her upper lip. "Shitty."

"Tuesday?"

"Worse. Wednesday and Thursday too. I'm gonna be thinkin' about you and riding my vibrator all week long."

Once his shirt is on, he gets out his phone, pulls up a map, does a search, adjusts the zoom.

"Okay, look," he says, walking back to the bed and holding it out. "I picked a spot that's five minutes from my work, and everything on that page is about five minutes from that spot. I can take my lunch hour starting anytime between eleven and one. There someplace on that map you could get to for a nooner?"

She takes the phone and looks. She's gotten pretty good at superimposing bus routes onto maps even without hitting the public transportation icon. Her school-to-work bus passes within a couple of blocks of an intersection in the northeast corner of the screen.

With her fingertip on that upper-right corner, she hands the phone back. "Here. I could be there eleven o'clock Tuesday or Thursday, or, uh, twelve-thirty Wednesday."

He looks at the phone, then back at her. "Could you be there eleven o'clock Tuesday and Thursday? Oh, and twelve-thirty Wednesday?"

That grin flashes and she laughs. "Yeah, but are you gonna have anything left by Friday night?"

"I'll eat some oysters for lunch." He kneels to put his shoes on and tie them. "And today I'll drive over there to scope it out and text you an exact spot for Tuesday, okay?"

"Okay."

He stands back up, just watching her for a second. She thinks, Tell him something. He thinks, Tell her something.

"Hey, this -"

"Look, I -"

They both stop and laugh.

"You first," she says.

His eyes are on fire as he tells her, "This is the best weekend I've had in a long fucking time. You're unbelievable, you know?"

"Yeah," she says, putting her jaw at a cocky tilt to her bare shoulders. "I do know. But I'm gonna make you learn to believe. And this isn't the best weekend you're going to have for very long."

He laughs and shakes his head, then turns to go so that he won't throw himself at her again. Naked and bold, she shadows him to the door and presses herself to him one last time before he can open it. They kiss, hot, hard, wet, fervid. Blood rushes where passion and instinct and hormones tell it to.

"Fuuck ..." she says, breaking loose. "I am so sore."

"Uh-huh," he says. "Let's just hope we're both recovered by Tuesday."

I'm not recovering from this anytime soon, she thinks. But out loud, she just says, "Yeah, right, like you're not going to be banging off the whole time between now and then thinking about it."

His eyebrows go up. "Am I the only one?"

She grins. "No."

And then the door opens, and then the door closes, and then they both wonder how they're going to keep their heads on straight for the next forty-eight hours.