[ad_1]

I enjoy hentai.
Well… some hentai.
I’m far too vanilla for some of the stuff going on there, but I do enjoy the romantic ones that flirt with comedy.
The nerdy guy is hot on hentai.
The nerdy guy gets the girls on hentai.
I like that universe. I like that narrative.
Unlike porn… where they try to make me believe some 35 year old wall of muscles, oozing testosterone with a I-could-totally-fuck-your-girl atitude is a geek because… he is wearing a super tight Lord of the Rings shirt and some fake ass glasses.
Yeah, buddy, not on my watch.
I’m… not a testosterone-oozing sex machine.
I’m not edgy. I have zero game and negative allure.
I’m the sort of guy women call “Dave” as soon as I introduce myself as “David”.
I am… comfortable?
People drop their guard around me because I am harmless and you could tell that just by looking at me through binoculars, a thousand miles away.
When I was in school, I once overheard this girl I liked telling my roommate “Nah, he is not flirting with me. He’s just… Dave”.
I was flirting with her, by the way. Or poorly trying to, I guess.
And I didn’t much enjoy having my name spilled out like it was supposed to be an offense. She’d at all times call me Davie and Sugar when she needed a ride or help with her college papers. I asked her out twice, she said yes both times so I took her out to dinner and movies and picked up every tab… but still…
Nah, he is not flirting.
He is just Dave.
The guy who will get late to his own thing so he can give you a ride, while he helps you study for exams you shouldn’t be taking because you have done nothing but party all semester long.
That’s why being friends with Yasmine was at all times ludicrous.
She was THE hottest chick at our high college.
We didn’t get into the same school, but whenever she’d drive by to spend some time with me, I’d remember she was probably the hottest chick across state lines. And the way every one of my colleagues would drool as she walked by made me pretty sure that was an accurate wondered.
She was at all times my friend.
She never used me.
She genuinely liked me.
And you know what? I like her right back.
We… love each other. In this cute brotherly I-would-walk-on-fire-covered-in-gasoline-for-you way.
She’s been my team for as long as I can remember and I feel like an awful creep having this crush on her.
It wasn’t at all times like this.
When we were kids she’d joke that we’d marry someday and I’d say eww and run away as she tried to cover me in kisses, pretending to be my wife.
When we were thirteen, I realized it wasn’t all jokes.
She had a crush on me.
“Be kind to her”, my mom would say. “You’re her first love”.
But I wasn’t half as interested in girls back then as I was on my Playstation.
I knew Yasmine was gorgeous. Hell… by the time we were 16, I was perfectly aware she was hot.
But she was… Yas.
You know?
She was my backup. My partner in petty crimes. My ocasional bully whenever I was trying to keep a secret. We were together so much and so often, half the people would think we were an item if it weren’t for the fact that she was hot as fuck as I was mild as day old instant noodles.
But we were there for each other.
She took an Advanced Logic’s course one summer for extra credits, which she was phenomenally sucking at so I camped out in her living room for two months helping her study.
When my mom died, she would drive 100 miles to be with me every other week for three months. She’d take me out to eat pancakes and pinch my cheeks in public, asking me if I was showering and brushing, just to tease me, cause that’s how she shows love.
I knew every single one of her passwords cause I was the only one she’d trust to fix the electronics she had an aptitude for breaking.
We were good.
And then the Spoon Day happened.
We met at a music festival nearby, she got two tickets and yelled at me relentlessly until I promised to come see her, even though I knew maybe one of the bands playing (and it turned out to be a typo and a different band, so not even).
Everything was fine until Laura (you know the one girl who called me Sugar when she needed a ride) showed up in front of us. She was kissing my roommate, Harry, like she wanted to eat his face off and when they saw me, they said hello trying to hide little giggles. Like they were going to make fun of me and scream I don’t believe he saw that as soon as I turned away.
Yeah, they were probably fucking while I was pining for her like a moron, thinking we were dating cause I took her out a couple of times.
I never told any of this to Yasmine, yet somehow she got it all. She at all times had a talent for this stuff. She can figure out people and sex like it’s a distinguished smell in the air. Two sniffs and she already knew more about the story than I did.
“Hi, Dave, uhh…” she looked at Harry, covering her smile with her hand “How are you… Haven’t seen you in a while…”
Laura has this way of never really asking a question. She would just let the sentence linger. It was really annoying, even when I was pinning for her.
“Yeah. I’m good, you?” my insides felt like wet wood.
“Yeah” she couldn’t hold back a laughter. She knew what she was doing to me. She knew she was taking benefit of the geek who wondered something was going on between us. And Harry didn’t look innocent either. I wish I could say I didn’t care and fuck them but…
I did like her. Even with the lingering sentences and all.
And I was holding out hope that maybe one day.
Then she ate Harry’s face in the middle of a festival and bludgeoned my ego in such a way the poor thing would need CPR.
Harry is scratching his forehead with his thumb, his fingers still holding a bottle of Heineken. He is looking everywhere but me with a smile that only assholes have when they want to fake modesty over having won.
You got the girl, dude.
Cheers.
“I didn’t know you liked this music or we would have invited you to come” Harry says, trying to sound like the superior man “But we can go to the movies with you next week, so you don’t have to go alone. What was that kid movie you wanted to see?” he is trying so hard not to laugh, his mouth is having a seizure. Laura is not as kind, and has to hide her face in his chest to muffle her laughter.
The kid movie was something in the Star Wars franchise. Fuck him.
“No need” Yasmine was standing close to me a second ago, but now she is around me. She smooths her hand around my waist burying herself in my chest so suddenly I put my arm around her “We already have plans to watch it and… I was kinda hoping it would be just the two of us” she adds more to me than to our other listeners… but they listen just fine.
“Yeah” I take her cue “Sorry, already have plans”
“It’s the Star Wars movie, right?” she keeps going… see? Two sniffs and she is all up to speed “Those aren’t kid movies. And if they are, call me a kid!” she jokes with a gigantic smile. Harry smiles back and Laura flinches because Yasmine is fucking gorgeous. She is the sort of woman that… when she smiles, you can’t just remain still. “I love them”
“Totally, I like them too” Harry meddles “We could all go together”. He is thinking he got one girl from me, maybe he can get two? Laura doesn’t like any of it.
Laura is pretty! Really pretty.
But Yasmine is a creature that can’t be placed on the same standards as most.
Laura could be twice as good looking and she still couldn’t hold a candle to Yas. Couldn’t hold a match. A spark. A broke lighter.
Yasmine is wearing short shorts that looks like body paint over her fine curves. Her top is a bikini and she is wearing a bunch of cute necklaces that drip in between her breasts, making men everywhere wish they could reincarnate as jewelry.
Laura isn’t giggling anymore.
I introduce Yas around and Harry (who’s only briefly met her once) makes a move to kiss her cheek, but Yasmine never leaves my chest. In fact, she pushes her hand (I swear to God!) inside my shirt. Her fingers quickly toying with the edge of my short, like she is about to push them down into my underwear. But then she raises her hand, inside my shirt, feeling my naked stomach just for herself.
Yasmine is a master at this: making extremely inappropriate touches feel casual.
She is touching me all over like we’ve been having sex for years.
This Hell Spawn of a woman even moans at one point after holding me tightly.
“I don’t think you want to come with us” she says to Harry “We don’t really go to the movies to… watch movies” her smile is so fucking naughty that no one doubts what she actually means “Right, babe?” she whispers on my ear before biting me “And you did come to this festival just for me” she licks her lips “So I gotta make this movie extra nice for you”.
I had fucking chills.
I don’t know how the fuck she does it. I can feel my face burning up but I doubt anyone is looking at me.
Laura can’t pull Harry away from us fast enough and I’m left behind feeling my ego already starting to heal.
I try to high five Yas but she growls that they might still be watching and just spends the entire festival hugging me like a girlfriend.
I don’t mind, I’m used to her teasing me… but that day… something started that day.
For the next few months, whenever she’d drop by she’d carry on the girlfriend act in front of Harry. She’d lock us in my room, banging my bed and moaning like I was fucking her senseless. I’d refuse to moan back and she’d pinch and poke me until I cried our in pain.
She would take off her clothes to wear one of my shirts and mess up her hair so she could parade around the apartment with a satisfied smile. She’d drink a fuck ton of water and make jokes about how I was going to kill her in bed one of these days and she’d be just fine with that.
Laura even saw her once or twice before her and Harry drifted aside.
Yasmine was taking no prisoners.
You see, according to her rules, she can mess with me ALL she wants, but no one else is allowed to.
The thing is… after she was done with all the acts and the jokes… we’d spend the day in my bedroom watching old movies, playing games and chatting. She’d still be wearing one of my shirts and nudging me and cuddling and…
One day there was ice cream.
One day there was only one spoon.
She ate a bunch of it before giving it to me and I thought how sharing a spoon could be like sharing a kiss.
It was her saliva in that spoon right?
Fuck.
I hated myself for that wondered.
She was my best friend!
It wasn’t sexual to her so I had no company making it sexual to me.
Yasmine is the single most crucial person in the world to me… why did I have to mix things up?
But… I did.
Then there were thoughts.
Then there were dreams.
Then there were fantasies.
And suddenly, hentai weren’t doing it for me anymore.
Yasmine was the only thing doing it for me.
We had to fake break up at some point because she wanted me to date around (and she was dating around as well, obviously). We were still friends, of course. But I fucking missed seeing her walk around with messy hair wearing my shirts.
I was crushing on her
And it got bigger.
And bigger.
And bigger.
And now some days it’s so hard I can’t breath.
Some days she tells me about the clients who are paying to have her and I can’t keep the jealousy at bay.
Some days she grinds me just to tease me and I can’t stop myself from wanting more.
And some days… she actually rubs her pussy sitting next to me and then leaves me alone to answer her phone, with her wet panties dangling from my fingers.
Because yeah: that’s what fucking Yasmine did just now.
She accidentally heard me jerking off, so she wondered I should hear her flicking it, that way (according to her) we’d be even.
Just like that.
That’s how her brain works.
You can tell Advanced Logic was never really her forte.
She sat by me, put her hand up her skirt and rubbed her pussy until she came.
I wondered she was just teasing me for laughs until the very end. But she took off her panties as evidence and gave them to me before rushing off to her bedroom to answer her phone.
Which brings me to this very second.
Staring at light blue lace hanging from my finger like a sweet ripe fruit, begging to be eaten.
I swallow.
I stand up only tangentially aware that my body is moving.
She was masturbating on this couch.
I can’t sit on it.
She was masturbating in this living room.
I can’t be here.
The sweet panties are still hanging from my finger as I walk out of her apartment and into mine. Being neighbours seemed like such a great idea a long time ago. Now, I wish we weren’t because she masturbated in this building and I’m starting to feel like running away.
I never move my hand though.
I never move my eyes away from the lace either… away from the dark spot, drenched in her pussy juice.
How the fuck am I supposed to not put this in my mouth and lick every fucking drop of it?
I’d suck on it like it’s a juice box with hardly any juice left: so hard I’m pretty sure I’d eat lace along with it and never give a fuck.
I can’t be the creep.
I can’t be the creep.
I can’t…
She is my best friend. I refuse to be one of those guys who only want the girl around because they might give him pussy.
This is Yasmine!
This is the woman who had her finger hooked in my pocket all the way through my mom’s funeral because she knows I hate being touched when I’m sad but she also wanted me to know I wasn’t alone.
I learned how to sow (poorly) when I was eleven so I could fix her favorite plushie after it accidentaly got ripped aside. And then I learned how to sow (properly) when I was fourteen so I could fix it again (since the first rescue operation didn’t take).
We are so much more than sex.
And sex could ruin it.
It could.
We’d fuck and tomorrow she’d be fine. I’d be in love.
I can’t have her.
Ever.
But I can have her panties.
Fuck, I feel like a creep.
The thing is still hanging on my finger like is taunting me. What is the odds she cast some spell on them? Cause I swear to God I can hear them speaking.
Have me, Dav.
Just a sip.
Just a bite.
Just a lick.
I taste so good.
Wanna see?
“Shut up” I say out loud in the middle of my lonely living room.
I hate the Talking Panties.
Don’t be a pussy, Davie. Taste Yas’ instead.
This is your only chance to know what I smell like.
It like I’m Alice, staring down at all sorts of bottles and biscuits with little tags that read EAT ME.
DRINK ME.
SUCK ME & FUCK ME*.*
I can’t think straight. The Talking Panties are fucking loud. They are screaming. They are moaning.
And I am left airless.
Just this once.
It will be quick.
Your door is closed. She is busy.
No one needs to know.
Yes, Davie, eat me.
God expelled Adam and Eve cause they ate an apple. If it was Yasmine’s panties, I think He’d figure out.
I bring it closer to my nose and I smell it.
Just like the pervs on half the hentais I watch. Fuck, I’m a stereotype.
And I would beat myself over it if the fucking light blue lace didn’t smell fantastic.
She charges five hundred dollars for a blowjob… I’d pay twice that much just to smell this again.
And I don’t doubt she has a price for that as well.
I remember her hand up my stomach on that festival.
Her teeth on my jaw.
We’ll go to the movies after I finish here, is what she told me a few minutes ago… while she was fingering herself for my enjoyment.
What were you thinking about? She wanted to know.
She was curious about my fantasies.
Tell me what I did… in your head.
You got on your knees, baby.
You put your tongue all the way out so I could slap my cock on it.
You smiles and licked your lips and told me you think about me when you rub yourself.
And I told you to eat my cock.
All the way in. So I could fuck the back of your throat.
I gasp, alone in my living room. Fighting for air, as it seems even the fantasy of Yasmine is enough to turn anywhere into a vacuum.
I am so hard inside my pants it’s starting to hurt.
The panties are hardly pressed on my face. My plan was to smell it quickly and pretend it never happened, but now that it’s here… now that I feel her juice on my face, I can’t push it away.
Ever had a woman sit on your face, Dav?
No, never. But, God, I wish you would.
I’m already a pathetic loser, so might as well be a pathetic loser who knows what she tastes like.
Do you want to lick my panties, Dav?
No, Yasmine, I want to lick you.
I want to spread your thighs aside so I can shove my mouth on your pubes and eat every single inch of pussy you are eager to give. The whole hour and then some.
But I will take the panties.
I shove them in my mouth for one second and my dick gets so fucking stiff I am afraid it might burst out of my skin and go fuck her all by itself.
I want her.
I want her so fucking bad it’s giving me a migraine.
I push my pants down to free my cock, bobbing out of my underwear into the cold air in my living room.
This will take two seconds… if that.
I wrap her panties around my cock and the light blue lace feels like a light blue heaven. But it’s the slick juice spreading over my length that drives me wild.
I move my hips, fucking panties as if it were pussy.
Eyes closed, pretending to be much braver than I am. Pretending I was able to say “No, I want to lick you” a few minutes ago. Pretending I could throw her cellphone out the window when it rang. Pretending I could get her naked and make love to her like I’ve been dreaming of for year. Pretending I could wrap her in one of my shirts after we were done, with her messy hair and her satisfied smile.
I fuck the Yasmine’s pussy through the lace.
I close my eyes and I hump the damn thing like it’s my only salvation.
She was fingerfucking herself.
Yes, she was.
This is the evidence.
She had her fingers in her pussy and I missed out on the fun cause I’m a moron.
I close my fist around my shaft pressing Yas’ panties harder against my skin.
The lace feels good, but not even close to how good the real thing must feel.
The faster I jerk off the less I can breath. My lungs work opposite my dick.
My tongue goes numb where I licked the panties. My mind goes numb thinking about her skin.
My balls get heavy and urgent, spitting out cum through my dick and relief washes over me as I splash my load all over the light blue lace.
I have a second to wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and throw the panties over the couch as I pull my pants back up… and then my time is up. Yasmine opens the door as if this is her place and not mine.
“Sorry, it was Ben” she says
“I checked the schedule. That Oscar movie we wanted to see is on the theatre nearby, it starts in fifteen minutes, we have to run… Oh, my panties” she reaches for it.
“Yas, wait!” I cry out in panic, but I am still catching my breath and my voice is but a sorry excuse of a whisper.
She slides the panties up her thighs and places it under her skirt with the efficiency of a woman who is very used to getting dressed and undressed anywhere at any time. It’s so fast I can’t even finish my warning.
She turns to walk out and I think that’s when she feels it.
That’s when she feels my cum spreading all over her pussy.
Of course she feels it.
Any other woman would. Which means Yasmine can probably tell the size of my dick and to which side I put it on just by feeling my load.
Fuck.
“Yas, I…” I try to say, a little louder this time.
She holds on to door frame like something just flicked her clit.
Nails tapping the wood as if someone poked a feather into her uterus and made it tickle.
Her body is bending, overcome by tiny little spasm.
“Fuck, Yas, oh God, I’m so…”
She turns to me with blushed cheeks and a shy smile.
“David, shh” she commands me “Fifteen minutes to the movie, we should go” she grabs my arm but I think her eyes are rolling back a little. She is trying to hide but I can tell she is panting.
“Yas, I… I just…”
“It’s fine” she says for the second time today. Then I think she moans before saying “Let’s just get out of here before I do something I’ll regret”
Part of me wants her to do it.
Part of me is sick of being good.
Part of me wants to jump head first into regret.
But that part of me at all times loses.

–

—–

–

*You can discover more parts of this story on this sub through my user account!*

NSFW: yes

[ad_2]