A Nice Guy

2

I see my reflection in her glasses. One of my arms is held up against the bathroom wall, my bicep looking big as ever. I just know this scenario is in one of those books she reads when she's alone and in need of something more than what Derrick can give her.

The door is locked and we're fucking on the sink. My hand is covering her mouth so we don't get caught. It happened so fast, the way I swept her up and sat her ass on the counter's edge. I'm glad she's wearing a dress, it makes a sneaky fuck like this so much easier.

I just had to slide her thong to the side and here I am, fucking her so hard she's got tears in her eyes. At this point I'm so into it I don't care who hears us, but I doubt anyone would. The music's blasting through the entire house, and I probably don't even need to cover her mouth. But I do, just in case.

I finish inside her, like I've told her so many times I would. She's motionless, legs spread open like I'm still between them. I bite my lip at the view, buttoning up my pants. "We can always go again, if you want. When everyone's sloppy drunk in an hour, we can meet in here again." She doesn't reply.

I leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I think to myself; now that we've fucked it's going to be less fun teasing each other. Why'd I have to rush it? Now that I've had her, texting and flirting won't be enough. I'm sure she feels the same, though. Which means we just have to have more sex.

I'm hard again just thinking about it. I look back at the bathroom door. Should I go back for round two? No, I'll let her get cleaned up so I can dirty her again later.

An hour passes and I'm waiting in front of the bathroom, but she doesn't show. Instead, she's wasted outside with our friends. I don't blame her, we're at a party after all. Our plan wasn't set in stone anyways, really. I'll brush it off, and maybe I'll get wasted too.

Wait, no. I've got work tomorrow. Responsibilities. Hazel's lucky in that aspect; taking college classes online while her husband works and she stays home. If only men could catch a break like that.

I don't see or hear from her until November. I assume she's sick and refrain from sending her any texts. I'll give her a break. Maybe she's even feeling guilty about us and what we did. Hell, almost makes me feel bad about what we did.

But I don't. And I know I don't because I'd do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, I plan on fucking her again the next time we're in the same vicinity. I feel like a damn dog, just waiting for as much as a smell of her.