Self Care

"She's later than usual," Arthur thought. It was quiet in his apartment. The only noise was that from the TV. He had not been paying much attention to it. He was thinking of her. "Knowing that damn bus, it probably didn't even pick her up," he was frustrated, "She is probably having to walk in the cold. She could get sick."

"I could warm her right up," his mind wondered.

He shook off the thought. He was worried about her. He did a lot of that. It was in his nature to feel like he needed to take care of someone. He wanted her to be safe. He wanted to keep her safe. He loved her.

"She would love if you took care of her," he thought, "Take good enough care that she wouldn't be able to walk the next day."

"She will be okay. If she isn't home within the next hour, I will go looking for her," he told himself out-loud. He knew she was strong. He knew she could handle herself well-enough.

He now imagined her standing in front of him. She wore something skimpy. More skin showing then not. His legs were spread. He invited her to take a seat.

He could feel something twitching between his legs. He exhaled. He tried to shake off the feeling that was overcoming him. "It's silly to get this worked up," he told himself.

She was on top of him now. He held her waist in his hands. He looked up at her, longing to be inside her. She gripped his shoulders for support.

His jeans were growing tighter.

He nested his face in her now exposed breasts. He found himself kissing them. Biting at her exposed nipples. She threw her head back in pleasure.

He could not deny himself any longer. He was aching to be let out of his pants. He slowly unzipped his pants, pulling himself out of them. He was hard. He was throbbing in his hand.

He thought of her now. How tight she would be around him. How wet she would be. How she would bounce up and down on him. He was craving her body. He was needing her. She would look so beautiful with her hair falling in front of her face. He would make her scream with pleasure.

He began to stroke himself. His head fell back onto the couch with pleasure. It was not as good as she would be, but it was good enough for now. He moaned her name quietly to himself as he pictured her instead of his hand. His strokes became more aggressive. He gripped himself firmly.

She was calling out to him. Praising him. He could hear the sound of skin smacking together. He could feel her dripping onto him. She was soaking wet.

He looked down at his member. Veins popping, pre-cum spilling out. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his sweating chest. He was in love with the fantasy in his head.

He began bucking his hips at her. They found their rhythm. He held her breasts for support. His hair, now covered in sweat, fell in his face. She was sweating too. He watched as sweat dripped down her exposed body. He was going to finish soon.

"Arthur, sorry I'm late. I was getting a couple things," she walked in unannounced. He looked at her with guilt on his face. He did not try to hide what he was doing. He held himself in his hand and looked at her. Her cheeks turned red and she dropped her bags. "I-I'm sorry... I-I-I didn't mean to intrude on your p-personal time," she felt her eyes wondering to the thing he held in his hand. They stared at each other from across the room.

She felt embarrassed that she had interrupted him. He was trying to have some personal time because she was late. She interrupted him. It was her fault. She was only trying to pick up somethings for him. She wanted to make him a nice meal. She was going to surprise him. She loved seeing him smile every time she came home. Tonight was different.