The Training of Jeff Stintum Ch. 08

"Jeff," said Dave, seeing his friend's continued distress, "for the last time, calm down. You know, you have to get used to Sarah hanging out with other people, even if they're guys, and even if they're guys who are friends of yours. Remember, it's the twenty first century, right?"

There was silence for a moment, until Jeff mumbled, "Right." Something still wasn't right, though. "Did you all have wine?" he asked suddenly.

Dave sighed, taking his turn to look up at the sky. "No Jeff. We each had a beer...well, I had two, but that's me, haha. We had to use these little coasters because she didn't want her dining room table to get messed up, haha. I have to say, the last time I used coasters while I was drinking a beer was —"

"You ate in the dining room??" burst out Jeff.

"I'm sorry, my bad," backtracked Dave. "We ate in the crawlspace. The crickets on the walls serenaded us with tunes of love and passion until we couldn't take it anymore and did it right then and there next to the water heater. Jesus Jeff, yes, we ate dinner in the dining room."

Jeff couldn't think anymore. All of this was way too much to process. Clearly Dave, as he sat there laughing, didn't appreciate what was going on in his head. He finished his sandwich in near silence as Dave switched the subject and talked more about his new roommates and what his plans were for the future. They parted amicably, and Jeff went on home, his mind a swirling and incomprehensible mess of information.

Later on that night, a number of bottles in to his nightly intake, Jeff sat there on his bed, thinking through all Dave had told him, and what it meant and didn't mean. So Sarah had hit Dave up and invited him over for dinner. Why? And how the hell had she gotten his number? Had she looked through Jeff's phone somehow when he was at her place? That didn't seem possible. Did Dave have his number posted on the internet somewhere? Maybe. But why had she wanted to hang out with Dave? Jeff thought and thought through all the possibilities, until he decided that he had probably reminded her of Dave, and she probably just wanted to reconnect and see how he was doing. Neighbors hitting up neighbors. Like she had toasted her wine to him by saying "neighbors," hadn't she? But then Jeff's stomach dropped as he saw her face looming over him as his body was inexorably drawn into her absorbing, powerful flesh; "Hey there neighbor," she had breathed, sexily. He shook his head, his dick becoming erect at the memory. What did all this mean? Had she done stuff with Dave? He hadn't specifically asked Dave...but Dave would have told him, surely! And anyway, Dave said that they weren't dating. If Sarah had made out with Dave, then they'd clearly be in competition, right? But Dave didn't seem to think they were in competition at all — he was laughing and cracking jokes most of the time they were talking.

No — it was impossible. But why had she eaten with Dave at the dining room table?? Why did Dave get to do that? He thought and thought about this problem, remembering that Sarah had said that she thought the dining room was too "formal" for them. What did she mean by that? He worried that she maybe took Dave more seriously and that's why she wanted to be more formal and eat with him in her dining room, like actual partners. But remember, he and Sarah had an unconventional relationship. They didn't play by the rules — "formality" was a silly word to them. They did what they wanted, like eat on stools in the kitchen! Of course, that was it. Sarah probably had dinner with all kinds of guys in her dining room, but only with him did she drop the formality. Jeff swelled with pride, happy that he could've thought through all that successfully. He sucked down another beer. He was kicking himself because he should've asked Dave if she had mentioned him, or their relationship. No matter, though — that would have been tacky. Besides, he didn't need anyone else to tell him what Sarah thought of him.

The night wore on, and Jeff got drunker. Ever since Dave had highlighted the fact that Jeff had not spoken to Sarah in two weeks, Jeff had felt an uncomfortable prick in the back of his brain. It was true — that was a long time not to talk. As he analyzed this issue in his head, Jeff came to the conclusion (quicker because he was drunk) that he was the one who needed to text Sarah again, to show her that he knew that she was playing hard to get, and that he was going to catch her. He thought about some clever phrases to use, but as he thought, his mind, as always, drifted to Sarah and her body, her face, her smell. She was almost unbelievable. He had to be close to her again. He had to touch her again, and smell her. He had to look at her face. He had to feel her big hands on his little body...he had to — and Jeff tried to snap himself out of this reverie, as his extremely erect dick was poking painfully through his pants. He threw off his clothes and began stroking himself, gazing down in admiration at how huge his cock looked, and how different it looked from the rest of his body. Was it almost as big as one of his legs now?

And just like that, Jeff had a brilliant idea. He whipped out his phone, and, after stroking himself more and trying a number of positions, he snapped a picture of his erect cock. He selected Sarah as a contact, wrote an accompanying "Let's get together, girl," and sent it. He jumped back on his bed elated, and more excited than he'd ever been. 'What a stroke of genius,' he thought.

And just like that, his phone buzzed. His heart in his mouth, he looked at his phone. Sarah. "Oooo is that for me? Tomorrow night. My place. Don't cum until then, or I'll know."