5. To Be Considered
To Be Considered
“How's it been living with Angie?” Char asked.
“It's been good. Peaceful.”
One truth and a lie. It had been good, living with Angie.
He was considerate, we enjoyed each other's company with game nights, sushi dates, and gossip sessions that could give our mothers a run for their money.
Plus we also enjoyed a cautious, platonic snuggle on the couch every now and again when either of our days were particularly long.
However, did I feel peace?
Fuck no.
When me and Ang first started messing around, I told myself I could stop at any time.
That should’ve been my first red flag because that’s a classic sign of addiction.
Ever since August I’d been tortured by persistent memories of him.
Angie in just briefs. Angie fresh out the shower with his towel slung haphazardly around his waist. Angie with his beard wet up from his tryst between my legs.
How Angie felt when he was inside of me, and the look of pure astonishment when he also realized how well we fit together. The last quarter was maddening.
“I need to find some dick asaptually though,” I frowned.
Char snorted into the line, but this was no laughing matter.
In a minute somebody was going to be picking me up from a 72 hour psychiatric hold.
Again, I was not God’s strongest soldier.
“Angie can’t hook you up with something?
” she cackled.“Hell naw.” He was exactly the something I wanted and I’m sure he knew it.
So asking him to find the generic version of that was mad disrespectful.
Still, I needed to do something. “There’s this tech at work I’ve been feeling. I might drop a few hints,” I sighed.
Don’t get me wrong, James was cute. Tall, brown-skinned, nice white smile.
Unfortunately his nails weren’t constantly manicured like Angie’s and I seriously doubted that he wore any shorts smaller than a 5 inch inseam.
He also didn’t have Angelo’s addiction to orange mints, so his kisses definitely wouldn’t be as sweet.
I changed my mind. Living here was hell, and it was my punishment for letting my cousin fuck my face until I cried.
“Ou, yes. Send me his instagram and keep me updated. I’m about to go meet Betty for lunch,” Char explained.
“Will do, tell Betty boop I said hi.”
The line hung up and the silence it left me with infected my sensibilities.
Angie had been gone for five days. He was obviously trying to keep busy so there was less temptation on either side, but I missed him something terrible.
Even more than when I lived in Vegas. Probably because I was laying in a house that had reminders of him at every turn.The entire living room smelled like his winter perfume, the kitchen had all his favorite snacks I bought him from the last grocery trip, and his empty room, right across from mine, taunted me.
Soft sheets, soft pillows, firm mattress that could handle however he wanted to toss me.
I was so horny that I could mount a moose and ride that muhfucka into a new dawn.
If I couldn’t have the real thing, Mr. Real Feel No 9 was going to have to get me there.
Which was ironic, because I think Angie may have been the subscriber to gift it to me, before he found out I was Koko.
I never had the courage to check, but the deviant in me wondered if he was still subscribed.
Did he keep it cute every Thursday just to watch me leak all over the sheets Friday night?
Did he touch himself when he watched the surrogates stretch me open?
Did he cum while calling my name just like he did five months ago?
These were the questions that sustained me as I stripped down, put on fresh toe-less socks, and cut the cameras on.
Did Angie know that he made me this fucking wet?