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Junkie
© 2000 by Jaelyn

 



I can't remember when I started to crave the sound of the old GTO pulling into the driveway. My stomach turns in anticipation while I listen for Terry to climb my steps. When his keys turn my lock, I am paralyzed.

Last night was intense. I had every intention on ending our relations, but my entire body begged for his touch.

Terry slammed the door open and tossed his keys onto my coffee table. Trying to show my displeasure, I peered over my glasses. He never bothered looking at me.

Terry pulled his shirt over his head. He wiped his arm pits with it before tossing it to the floor. He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. His swollen cock bobbed as he rushed towards me. I hardly had enough time to remove my glasses before he was undressing me.

He yanked my shirt over my head, then tore off my panties. I love it when he behaves that way.

Climbing the couch, he pressed his beautiful cock against my mouth. His precum smeared over my lips. The smell of him was intoxicating. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and sucked.

Terry rocked on his knees with his pelvis thrusting in and out. He reached down between my legs rubbing his knuckles over my hungry snatch. I moaned over his dick to show my want. He slipped his thick fingers inside me, swirling them, loosening me.

I swayed on his hand while he glided in and out my mouth. It was almost like we were making love. He bit his lip and looked down in my eyes watching me please him. I thought I saw tenderness glimmer in his eyes. Any moment, I expected him to confess his love. Then my body tensed, my legs shook and Terry pushed himself away from me.

Why couldn't he just pretend we were close? Though I knew I didn't love him, I wanted the illusion.

His fingers dug into my arms as he pulled me off the couch. I let him spin me around and push me over the side. Grabbing a handful of my ass, Terry slipped his penis between my legs. The tip of his head passed my entrance and teased my clitoris. I held my breath until he drove himself deep inside me.

I loved the way he fucked me. He thrashed against me. I held onto the arm of the couch and met his body with the same rage he forced in me. The sweat from his head dripped on my back and rolled down my sides. His hands moved away from my hips and slid up my sides before reaching around to hold my breasts.

Only Terry could make me hurt, cry, and beg until waves of orgasm crashed through me in a sensual violence.

My inner walls trembled around him. He withdrew himself, pulling me back from the arm I clutched. I lost my grip on the couch and tumbled backwards to the floor.

Lying on the floor, I smiled at him, loving the force he used. He took his cue and dove right in, fucking me harder. I met his rhythm while I watched our pelvises crush against each other. His cock glistened while it pumped in and out of me. We seemed like a machine.

Terry panted. His body became rigid. His gaze captured mine. Between moans he held his breath until his seed flushed in me with a final exhale.

The last thing I remember is lying on the floor beneath his limp body. My mind swam in the afterglow, pretending that something more could come of this.

Early this morning, I awoke curled up on the carpet. I was cold and sore. Terry had gone.

I cramped up. Tears welled up behind my eyes and I started to shake. It always ends this way.

Never again, I promise myself, waiting for the roar of his GTO.

I need him, just once more. When Terry is with me, I don't feel as empty. In his eyes I am desirable. When he leaves, I am broken, again.

I pretend I don't want him. Seems like we have been doing this forever. Terry pretends he is numb to it, but he waits for me to get desperate. The end result is the same: we tangle our limbs and choke on emotions we never had. Then I wake up alone, cold, sore and jonesing for him once again.


Copyright 10/2000 by JLM. All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced without written permission from the author.

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