I first met Leo at a play party months ago, where he’d passed me a note asking if I wanted to go somewhere private. The party was slumber party themed – so, you know, spin-the-bottle, seven minutes in heaven, really cute stuff – and so the note-passing was so on-theme that it was adorable. We ended up playing around a little, and before Pup and I headed out, we exchanged numbers and planned to go out sometime.
We kept trying to make plans to meet up, but every time we attempted to, something inconvenient and crazy would come up. I mean super inconvenient and crazy. Like, one time I had to cancel our date to go to a funeral-level inconvenient and crazy. So by the time Friday rolled around and we met up for dinner, it had been a long time coming.
Not only that, but we’d made a little bit of a plan. But more on that later.
The last time I saw Leo, he was walking around in a pair of briefs. He was covered in tattoos. I guess we did stuf fa little backwards, because when he showed up straight from work, I almost didn’t recognise him in a suit. And, yeah, knowing what was going on underneath the suit (bod-wise and tattoo-wise) was pretty hot.
After dinner, we went back to my apartment. Leo started going down on me and when I pulled him up to kiss me, he shoved his fingers into my mouth. “Tell me exactly what you want us to do tonight.”
I blushed and kissed him instead. Beside me on the bed, my phone started ringing.
On Thursday, I had a really long, trying day at work and texted the Neighbor. We were supposed to go out later that evening, but I just wanted to go home and nap forever. But he asked if I wanted to take a walk and maybe just hang out at his place, and I decided it was probably better than just hiding out.
There’s a way that people can touch you, when you allow them to, that conveys a kind of power. It was in the way the Neighbor reached over to pull my cardigan back up on my shoulder. In how, when he was sitting on his couch and I stood to get something, he reached over and pulled my skirt up to see if I was wearing underwear. In the way that, after rubbing me close to edge, he patted my thigh and told me to go into his bedroom.
He fucked me from behind until I got close again. Then, he pulled out and stroked himself with one hand, keeping the other cupped over my needy cunt. “If you want more, you’ve got to beg for it,” he said.
“No,” I pouted. “Come on, fuck me.”
He reached up from between my legs and grabbed my chin, turning my head to face him. He has these cold blue eyes that carry sternness well, the kind of grip that implies that he’s tempering himself, just holding back. “That isn’t how you ask.”
I’ve been on a birth control that really messed around with my energy and libido, which is part of the reason why I’ve been pretty infrequent in updating you all on here (not much to say when you’re not doing much!) But I stopped taking it and my libido is finally back. Newly horny, I set up a weekend for myself that I looked back at when I wasn’t horny and was like, “calm down, Ivy, jeez.”
