VERY Short Romance Story: Not the Type
Not the Type
They’d been neighbors for four years and she’d been masturbating to fantasies of him since week two. He was ten feet away at the homeowner’s association Christmas party. She drank him in, six-four with dark blond hair and dark brown eyes. Long and hard, just like she figured his cock probably was. She was desperate. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone. She had to have him.
So, pretending to be drunker than she really was and hating herself for the lack of confidence that required it, she slid up behind him and stroked her hands over his shoulders. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening in surprise when he realized it was her.
For one moment, she considered forgetting the entire thing. She was a 35-year-old divorced mom who taught science to elementary school kids. Beautiful and charming Zach couldn’t possibly look for cute in a woman. She was athletic but not curvy or particularly pretty.
Fuck that, she thought angrily. I get two nights a month to myself and I need this. I need him.
“Stacey?” his smile was hesitant but genuine. “You okay?”
Inhaling deeply, she murmured, “I. Am. Fantastic.” Her hand idly stroked up and down his forearm, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it. “How are you, Zach?”
The silence was deafening. She could feel his eyes reading her and wondered what he saw. He took a careful step toward her. If she took a deep breath, her breasts in the snug red cocktail dress would touch his crisp white shirt. Still, he said nothing and she forced herself to observe the same silence. Waiting for him to answer the question he obviously heard. She couldn’t let go of her dignity enough to beg but, oh God, how she wanted to.
Suddenly, his palm flipped up and grabbed her hand. He was pulling her through the room to the exit, grabbing her coat near the door. Through the courtyard, across one of the many parks that dotted the property, through the gate of his backyard, glass doors sliding, the sound of a lock, and then she was slammed against the wall, his body dipping, lifting her off the floor. Lips descending on hers, the warm invasion of his tongue. Her arms and legs wrapping around him as his hot palm smoothed up the soft back of her thigh, her fingers gripping his hair. Grabbing at her lace panties and ripping them away, fingertips testing her, caressing her.
A gentle rocking as he moved his hand to his wallet, the crinkle of paper, the sound of a zipper, and an instant later he was thrusting inside her, one hand beneath her ass, the other stroking from the sides of her still-covered breasts to the damp heat of her clit. Buried deep now, her pussy impossibly stretched, his eyes rose to meet hers. “Finally. Jesus, finally.”
Then there were no words as he drove her up and over her climax once, then again, joining her as the third rocketed through every cell in her body. He stroked her face, still pinning her to the wall with the press of his body. She couldn’t look away, no matter how self-conscious she suddenly felt. She blurted, “I wasn’t really drunk.”
Her instant reward was a smile complete with dimples. “I know.”
“Then why?” asked so softly she didn’t know if he would hear her.
A crinkle formed between his brows. He had heard. “What do you mean why?”
“I…I know I’m not your type. Not the type to do things like this.”
The silence played out for a long time and she felt tears prick the back of her eyes. “You think you’re a pity fuck or something. Don’t you?” He leaned forward and kissed her so gently, so sweetly that she couldn’t hold back the tear. “Why do women always underestimate themselves? Why can’t you see what I see in you?” His hand stroked through her hair. “You’re beautiful, you’re the smartest person I know, you make me laugh. I like the way you are with CJ, you’re a great mom to him and don’t think he doesn’t know it.” He cupped her face. “I enjoy you, Stacey. Looking at you, talking to you, wanting you. I waited. I saw the battle scars from your divorce but – fuck – how I wanted to push.” His arms wrapped fully around her now, holding her tightly to him. “You are the only woman I’ve ever taken the time to get to know outside my family. Look at me. Know me, too, Stacey.”
She held his eyes and he didn’t avoid her. She touched his face and he leaned into her palm. She tightened her muscles around his cock and his hips jerked against her. All she could do was smile. “I see you, Zach.”
He smile was blinding as he carried her to his bedroom and they bared their bodies to one another for the first time. The second time was slow and steady as they looked their fill.
Posted by Shayne McClendon