Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 43.: Lustful

If you are uncomfortable reading erotic scenes, know that they can be skipped. They are marked with a bolded heart where the scenes begin and end.

I should have jerked off. Plain and simple. All the wind turbines in the world could not cool down my imagination after getting a taste of something sweet. Or just a look of it. The jiggly buttcheeks are still the centre of my mind, especially when I recall how it felt squeezing them.

I stretch over and tighten all the muscles of my back, arms and hands. Maybe that's how my mind will recover.

It's not like I haven't done a single productive thing; I've checked the e-mails, replied without giving vague, meaningless answers, and I invest my whole self with intellect included. Though, my thoughts slip to Annabelle.

Not sure if these thoughts are acceptable. I mean, the last two days were a real rollercoaster. From sleeping together to physical and emotional pain, and the guilty conscience. Is it acceptable to fantasize about her?

Whether it's acceptable or not, I don't believe I have much of a choice. What I'm caught between is fantasizing with or without feeling guilty, with only one explanation: I'm just a man.

I've run out of my morning coffee during the time of focus, which would give me a perfect reason to go and check her out or check up on her. She was really weak yesterday and I am determined to take care of her in case one of the symptoms reoccurs. I'm not an expert but I do know Plan B pill can give some women nausea or headaches for days.

The first thing I see when I leave my office is Annabelle dressing up Devon in small dancey moves accompanied with a lively song.

"Heard it from a friend, ooh. Heard it from a friend, ooh. Heard it from another you've been messing around-" With a gentle melody, her hips swing, as she's dressing Devon like he's a snowman.

I hate to disrupt the moment she's having but Devon looks like he's gonna get a heatstroke anytime now, "You know, it's summer, and we're not in Russia."

Annabelle jumps. She probably hasn't heard me come from the office and it's surprising to see her so embarrassed. Of course, she acts as if nothing happened. "He has to be warm. It can get windy in a matter of seconds."

Quickly she goes back to wrapping Devon in more blankets. Thankfully, she bends down. To my unfortunate needs, she's changed her trousers, but nonetheless, it's a pretty sight.

"So, I suspect you two are going out?" 'Cause, you know, that wasn't obvious before. And it's better to say this than Boston isn't Chicago, even though I wanted to live there after Mum and Dad got divorced.

"As we always go before lunch. Don't we, pumpkin?" When she speaks to Devon, her voice completely changes, and as per usual, she feels the need to boop his nose.

I smile when I see Devon laugh and look around excitedly but I focus on Annabelle. In the end, she really was the reason for me to decide and stay home "You're doing better, I see."