Rosie Labrun is a lot of things: a college student on the cusp of graduation; an intern for the Portland Pirates, a romance novel connoisseur; and the most recent addition to her resume...the girlfriend of a professional athlete.
She won't let it d...
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It all happens in a flash - no Interact pun intended. Rosie coming all over my cock; me, trying my best not to finish from the feeling of her tightening around my dick; and Kayden entering the room, having a front row seat to all of it.
Though, unlike a high-paying customer or a patron that's purchased a movie ticket, his access has neither been approved, nor appreciated by either parties involved. "Dude. What the fuck?" I ask him, the words coming out of my mouth in a mad dash, as Rosie quickly scampers to get me out of her. Yeah. That's not a sentence I thought I'd ever hear.
"Sorry, sorry. My bad. I didn't know you guys were fucking." He says, holding his hands up in the faintest attempt to apologize; more like half-assed. It's not like this is the first time he's walked in on us - granted, the last time he did, we were fully clothed and hadn't gotten to the best part of the night (making Rosie come).
But his constant need to burst through the door has forced me to get into the habit of locking the bedroom door, anytime I think I might be getting some. Which is basically every night; or morning; or afternoon.
"I wanted to see what size of pizza you guys want." He explains, for some reason still standing in the room instead of making his way out of it. The last thing that I want my linemate to see is my girlfriend's naked body; or even the faintest hint of what she might look like.
Call it pointless jealousy; but the thought of another man being with her, or looking at her, or even thinking he could get with her, makes me want to punch a hole through the wall. Not that I ever would - I'm not that dude from After, or Christian Grey, but I'd be lying if I said the thought of other men sexualizing her, doesn't make me sick to my stomach.
"Get out." I tell him, staring at him with my bare dick hanging out. If there were a fly on the wall, they would think there's something seriously wrong with me for not caring that he's seeing me naked. But, having grown up in many a locker room, I'm no stranger to seeing other men nude - or having them see me.
"Fine, I'll get a couple extra larges." He says, shaking his head like the fact that we want some privacy, is too hard to comprehend. He brings the phone to his ear, making me realize that he's been keeping a call center operator on hold for as long as he's been in the room. Which raises a whole new series of questions that I'm not sure we have time for.
With my thick-headed friend having finally left the room, I look over to the other side of the bed, where Rosie has set up what I can only refer to as a makeshift camp. In reality, it's just her, buried under a collection of our duvets and comforters.
"Babe?" I say her nickname, hoping that the affectionate calling will ease the situation a little bit. She loves when I call her babe, and baby, and literally anything else. As long as it's cute, and loving; because, despite her hard exterior, on the inside she's as soft as a Drumstick.
And I do mean the ice cream brand, not a chicken's leg. That would be a little weird, considering that I don't think their legs are soft; or that calling my girlfriend a drumstick would be something that would earn me brownie points.
