Hidden Feelings

Jay

 Long Beach, California 10:45PM 

  It's another one of those nights, hang out with friends, get drunk, find a girl and take her home. It's nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary. It's the same old, and I don't feel the least bit bad about it. I get to do this every Saturday, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Why would I want to change this? It's perfect.

    As I cup my beer with my large hand, my friend Jack nudges my shoulder. His brown hair is all fallen over his forehead. "Look at her." He drunkenly jerks his head towards the bar stools under the dim light. At first, I don't look. Jack is always trying to set me up with some random girls who aren't even that cute. Yet I still get at least one good fuck out of them. After a small irritated smile of my beer, I turn my head to the direction my stupid drunk friend motioned to. My eyebrows raise, and my eyelids separate.

   It's a girl, a cute one. She's not entirely boney, and she's definitely not like something I've personally seen before around here. She's got pretty chocolate skin, black braided hair. Her feet don't touch the bottom of the stool, like every other girl does because they're skinny and long in their legs. She must be at least 5'2. She's got glasses that are adorably on her round face, even from the side. And the one thing that really caught my eye is that body of hers. She's thick, that's for sure. She's got a big chest that my eyes can't help but roam over, and her thighs in those shorts make me wonder what it would feel like to have them around my waist.

   She's hot, to say the least.

    I shrug a shoulder, attempting to show them my disinterest. Obviously, they don't buy it. One of my tipsy friends Aaron decides to speak up. "Don't act like she doesn't have some ass on her. You should've seen her when she walked in." He tells me with a smirk. 

    Well, that's new. He's always teasing me for the women I take home. Normally he'd talk about how I'd even fuck the girls I do. He says they're a lot of just bones trying to look appealing, or they're just a ton of fake-faced bitches. I don't blame him, obviously, but it's not like I actually care what they look like. I just need a good lay every now and then.

    Daniel, the short brunette who's deviously smirking at me, drinks his shot of alcohol before speaking. "I saw you checking her out. You aren't too slick when you see something you like." Which, I think, is really stupid. I am slick with it, they just have stupid good observations. Not to mention, it's hard for them to know when I like something. I don't like much, or at least I try not to show it. Guess it didn't work out. 

    "I wasn't checking her out." I grumble the lie as my lips taste the yellow beer beginning to reach the bottom of the glass.

    I hear a drunk laugh come from the drunk Jack next to me. "Go shoot your shot. Girls don't resist you." My eyes narrow at the suggestive tone he holds. I chug the rest of my beer down in hopes to clear the bubbling urge to go up to her. As much as I would like to go up to her, I don't want to give in to my friends. But in reality, I really want to go up to her, talk her up, take her home. If I can't resist myself by then, she'll be naked on my Yamaha the moment we get out of this bar.

    A small tightness tweaks in my jeans, and I subtly adjust the small hardness. The last thing I'm going to let these observant assholes do is call me out for getting hard. Especially thinking about a girl in the bar. Like the last time I felt a hot girl accidentally brush my crotch in the line at a fair. Good Lord, I wasn't expecting a fuck that night, yet it happened.

    After finishing our drinks, I push the empty glasses and bottles in the middle to make it easier on the waiter. I know it isn't easy dealing with drunken idiots as my friends, so the least I can do as one of the sober men is make their job a little easier. 

    Not to mention, I fucked our waiter not too long ago. She was a damn good lay, but she isn't close to my type at all. Still, I'd probably tap that again.

    Daniel, the other sober one besides me, takes the drunken fools at the booth and takes them by the arms. Daniel reaches for his pocket while keeping Jack steady, only for Aaron to groan softly and slump against the shorter. "I got it." I tell him, flipping out my black leather wallet. The 5'9 man looks down at me, a relieved smile on his face despite the way I know he'll try to reflect it.

    "You don't have to." Daniel tries to reach for me to stop, but he's too busy dealing with the problems of boozed friends in his hands.

    "I said I got it. Now get the drunken assholes home." I slap a wad of cash on the wooden table, flipping my wallet back. Daniel doesn't hesitate to give me his little smile before grabbing hold of the two taller men and nearly dragging them out the bar.

    Daniel is a good guy, probably the best out of all of us. He's not too big, but he's definitely something. He's got a big heart, that's for sure. A big heart for the knucklehead Aaron that is. He's only come out to me, and I can see why. Jack isn't the most quiet out of the four of us. But him and Aaron, they'd definitely make a cute couple. He's just gotta have more confidence in himself, that's all there is to it.

    I sigh and slump against the red leather of the bar booth, letting my tense body relax. I'm stuffed with beer and potato skins, but I'm strong enough to hold at least 4 glasses. I'm no lightweight. As I let my eyes rest, a picture pops in my head.

    The picture of that girl on the bar stool, spread beneath me, crying and begging me to plunge deep and hard into her tight little pussy. 

    The hell? 

    My eyes shoot open as my cock begins to harden more than before. The bulge is slowly beginning to ache, and I subtly adjust myself once again.

    Damn it.

    I let my eyes wander to where I last saw. She's still there. I let my eyes wander her body one more time, seeing that she's got a nice rack going on. She's got a generous amount of tits on her, and I can't help but wonder how great they would fit in my rough hands.

    I hate this.

    I adjust my hardening dick, letting my hand grab my beer and drink the yellow alcohol to soothe my brain. I need to get it together. Just because I see a sexy girl, doesn't mean I need to get excited over it. Just because she isn't nearly as close looking to the other girls I've been with, doesn't mean I get to harden from her.

    The only way to stop this is to go up to her, and resolve this situation with a good fuck. It works all the time, now can't possibly be different.