I didn’t plan on going over to Minnie’s house the other night. I had a few beers with Landon, flirted with some girls, and when the leggy redhead with perky tits offered to drive me home—in more ways than one—I had no desire to accept her offer. I’ve never turned down a free ride, ever. Instead, I drove to Minnie’s house, parked in front of her house, and had an extensive conversation with myself. I unsuccessfully attempted to talk myself out of texting her.
Then, she opened the door in that lingerie and I couldn’t get my hands on her fast enough. Her long blonde hair was flowing over her shoulders, her perfect tits full and straining to break free from their lace confines, and her long legs peeking out from the hem of the bright-blue satin slip. She tried to cover up with a robe, but all that did was draw my attention to the detail on her chest.
I thought the first night we were together was hot, but something about this impromptu stop by her house and the fact that we had to be quiet made this time more intense. Or times. Something about Minnie keeps me hard like a teenage boy and I can go all night. Of course, she was with some buttoned-up dick that let her go so she probably hasn’t had a proper fucking in years.
Regardless, it can’t happen anymore. That’s what I am telling myself. I also sent a thanks to her sister, Dakota, for being far away and taking Minnie away for a few days. I need the space from her. I know if she’s here I’ll be at her house again and she’ll be wrapped around my waist while I fuck her against the wall.
On the kitchen counter.
In the shower.
Every fucking where.
We have to stop this. It’s becoming too comfortable. As much as she says she’s not looking for forever, Minnesota Walker is a forever girl. And, I’m not the guy to give her that.
Regardless, of the can’ts and shouldn’ts, none of this has stopped me from texting her. At first it was a simple “Drive safe” message. Then it was something stupid Landon said. Of course, she’s also peppered me with her own text messages. Something about roadside bathrooms and hookers. Which, of course, I managed to turn sexual in two seconds. I could imagine the way she attempted to, unsuccessfully, roll her eyes at me and that only encouraged me. She sent me a selfie at a gas station where there was an assortment of various nuts and told me she hoped that wasn’t a sign of where she was headed on this trip with her mom.
Minnie sent me a text a few minutes ago to tell me that they made it safely and were checking into their hotel. I reply thanking her for telling me when something smacks me on the side of the head. Pissed off, I look up at Landon, who is sitting in the recliner across from me, the PlayStation 4 controller in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What the fuck, man?” Irritation and confusion are evident in my response.
“Sorry, loverboy, but if we aren’t going out tonight, which is weird since it is Friday night, I’d at least like to get this game started.”
“Why do you think it’s weird? We don’t have to go out every night. We aren’t twenty-one years old anymore.”
“Why? Because there hasn’t been a Friday night since you were twenty-one that we haven’t gone out. That is, until you started up with whatever piece you’re banging now.”
Rage consumes me. I may be hooking up with Minnie on occasion—okay, twice—but she deserves respect. All women deserve respect and Landon usually agrees with me on this. Minnesota Walker is different. She deserves much more than being referred to as a “bang” or anything else degrading. She is a good person and … fuck, she deserves better than the way I treated her the other night.
“She’s not a piece. You’re usually much more respectful than that. She’s … a friend. No big deal,” I grit out. My patience is thin.
“Ah man, you like her.”
“Shut up, Landon. You know I don’t do feelings.”
“Why is that again? Because you play the tough-guy player role well, man, but you aren’t that guy.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t see you running and wifeying it up.”
“Doesn’t mean I’d turn it away if someone came along. Dude, we’re almost thirty. There’s more to life than drinking, partying, and fucking. Don’t you want someone to share your life with? The good and the bad times?”
“It’s been my experience that people don’t stick around for the bad times. So, no, I don’t. Are we playing or what?”
Landon pauses, his controller posed to start a game. “Man, don’t be such a little bitch. Not everything is shit and not everyone leaves. And, even if they do at least you have the time with them. Look, I’m not going to sit here like I know what I’m talking about but if you like her, don’t push her away.”
The moment he pushes the button to start the game, my phone signals a text. I look from where my phone sits on the cushion next to me then to Landon and back. He’s watching me intently and flicks his gaze to the phone and then back to me. I know he’s challenging me. My hand itches to pick up the phone. I know it’s Minnie. Or, it’s one of the girls I see most Friday nights at Country Road. My luck it’s the latter.
“Tell Minnie I said hi. I’m going to take a piss and grab a beer.” Landon tosses his controller on the recliner as he leaves the room.
I pick up my phone and see two notifications.
Minnie: <Image>
I click on the image. A selfie of Minnie appears. She’s laying on a bed, her hair a blonde halo on her pillow, and her lips curled into a sad face. She looks exhausted and beautiful.
Minnie: This is my sad face. Fifteen minutes after climbing in bed and my mom is snoring.
I laugh to myself and tap out a response.
Me: I bet her snores aren’t as cute as yours.
Minnie: Shut your damn face! I do NOT snore.
Minnie: Do I?
Minnie: OMG! I’m so embarrassed.
Me: Relax. I said they’re cute snores.
Minnie: Whatever.
Me: Are you already in bed? It’s early.
Minnie: We’re exhausted. It was a long day. Plus, we have to meet Dakota at 9.
Me: Ah. Well, get some rest.
Minnie: Is it weird I text you? I don’t want this to be weird.
Me: Nah. It’s cool. We’re friends, right?
She doesn’t respond. I watch the three dots flutter on the screen and stop at least three times before Landon comes back in the room and sets a beer down in front of me. I don’t acknowledge or thank him. I simply stare at my phone, waiting. After what feels like minutes, I tap out a text.
Me: Sweet dreams, Minnesota.
Minnie: Night.
I toss my phone and scoff. This is why I don’t date. Not that we’re dating. But, this is why I avoid hooking up with a woman more than once, especially in a short period of time. Emotions. Feelings.
I’m no genius but I speak chick; I know I said the wrong thing. I’m not sure exactly what it was but it was wrong just the same. I toss my phone aside, reach for the beer, and finish it in only three long drinks. Landon doesn’t respond and simply starts the game.
A few hours and many victories later, I crawl into bed a little drunk and a lot horny. I pick up my phone and scroll. I could text one of the randoms I have in my phone but what Landon said pops back in my head. I am almost thirty years old. I’m only getting older while the women I meet at the bar are more girls than women. Somehow, they all stay about twenty-four and full of energy, able to function on little or no sleep. I, on the other hand, am not as lucky.
I look at the time and contemplate a text to Minnie but decide against it. Regardless of the hour and my decision not to call a hookup, I’m still horny as fuck. The tension in my neck is significant. The hardness of my dick more so.
I click off the light and punch my pillow a few times before laying back down. Nope, didn’t help.
I count sheep.
Nope. Still hard as fuck.
I tell myself I’m not going to jack off to the visual of Minnie in that picture she sent—her hair spread out on the pillow, her pouty lips puckered, and her nipples hard and ready to be sucked.
Fucking lies.
I slid my boxers down, gripping my dick. Goddamn.
Closing my eyes, I allow my hand do what has come naturally, no pun intended, since I was like twelve years old.
Gripping from the base, I slide my hand up my cock and back down quickly. A sheen of sweat covers my shirtless body. It’s not going to take long when the visual of Minnie in my shower, on her knees, gripping my cock as she licks the tip like a fucking lollipop flashes before me.
Closing my eyes, I continue stroking; the vision of her looking up at me with her lips painted red and a sinister twinkle in her bright-blue eyes as her free hand scratches my balls with her nails.
Fuck.
If the reality is half as good as my imagination, I’d be a lucky man to have Minnesota Walker with my dick in her mouth. Her tongue swirling around my shaft, her hands on me, her moans vibrating as she sucks. All of it is too much. It’s like I’m there, with her, grabbing her head, fucking her mouth.
It only takes a dozen strokes before I feel the tightness in my balls and I let out a groan. My stomach is sticky and my mind numb. I can’t see her again; this is too consuming. She’s too consuming.
I stand from the bed and grab a towel from my hamper and wipe off my stomach. I’m standing in the dark and I’m reminded of Minnie, again, and her love of the silence and moonlight. Tossing the towel back in the hamper, I leave my room and go to the kitchen for a water. Since I’m here, I grab a few aspirin as a precautionary measure and toss them back with a large drink of water before heading back to my room. The darkness that blankets the room makes the flashing blue light on my phone obvious.
It’s probably an email or a Facebook notification. Call me curious but I pick up the phone as I lay down.
It’s a text message.
Minnie: Sorry I was short earlier.
Me: Shouldn’t you be asleep?
Minnie: Yeah. I just felt bad.
Me: Don’t. It’s no biggie.
Minnie: K.
Minnie: Night, Owen.
Me: Night, Minnesota. Sweet dreams.
A nagging feeling looms over me. I’m getting in too deep with a woman I barely know. Nothing good can come of this. A restless sleep awaits me.