by Tiffani Lynn
When his hand slips between us and his fingers find my engorged clit, pressing down and circling, I spiral over the edge, screaming his name. If anyone is walking through this parking lot I know they’ll think I’m being murdered. Even if they call the cops, it will be worth the orgasm he just gave me. I’ve never come that hard before. My heart is still racing wildly, moisture from the rain mixes with my sweat while I brace myself on either side of his shoulders. Our eyes are locked as he relentlessly pounds into me, chasing his own completion. Every muscle in his body pulls tight only seconds before the tension releases, and I feel his cock pulse inside me as he empties himself into the condom. I finally allow myself to collapse and rest my head on his broad shoulder.
All these years I’ve avoided looking at him as more than a friend and in this moment, I can’t remember why. Don’t get me wrong, over the years I noticed every new muscle that popped up, and every inch he gained in height. On occasion, I wondered what it would be like to kiss lips as full as his, but I tried to keep the thought process there. How do we go back to being best friends? Can I even pretend not to think of his enormous cock while he tells me about his mom’s new job or the new trick his dog can do? I think I’m screwed in more ways than one.
“Summer,” he says quietly, and I groan a little. I don’t want to go back to reality. I want to stay comfortable and warm, with his cock buried inside me while we’re pelvis-to-pelvis in his truck.
“Look at me, M. Don’t make me go back to being just your friend yet. I have a few days before I go back to work. Come spend that time with me. Please.”
He doesn’t phrase it like a question, it’s more of a statement. I lean back and study his expression. It’s what I want, but will that make things worse when we go back to real life? If we part right now can we pretend none of this happened?
“Did we just ruin our friendship?” I ask, scared of his response.
“God, I hope so. I’ve always wanted to be more than your friend, M.”
“Mike…”
“Don’t give me the million excuses I’m sure you’re brewing up as to why you need to go back to the nerd-herd of guys you date. Give me this weekend. Please. Let me prove to you how good we can be together. I’ve always wanted this chance.” His arms close around me and I’m powerless to resist.
“Take me to your place,” I whisper, half in fear and half in anticipation.
