Look But Don’t Touch
The blue light of the smartphone screen illuminated Mike’s face in the dark of his bedroom, casting sharp shadows across his rugged jawline.
It was past midnight, the ambient hum of the city filtering through his window, but his thumb kept up its rhythmic, hypnotic swipe.
Right, left, left, right. The faces blurred together displaying a montage of curated vacations, mirror selfies, and generic bios.
He was about to lock the screen and finally call it a night when her profile flickered into view.
Felicity.
The first photo wasn’t a studio headshot or a heavily filtered vacation snap.
She was sitting in a dimly lit booth at some unnamed jazz bar, a glass of dark red wine halfway to her lips.
She was looking directly at the camera, her hazel eyes holding a mixture of amusement and fierce intelligence.
Her dark hair fell in soft, loose waves around a collarbone framed by a low cut black silk top.
There was something intensely magnetic about her posture.
Relaxed, yet utterly in control. Mike paused, his thumb hovering.
He read her bio: “Looking for someone who can keep up with a fast mind and a sense of humor. Show me you’re paying attention.”
Mike smirked. He swiped right.
The screen instantly flashed, a vibrant notification cutting through the darkness: It’s a Match! You and Felicity like each other.
A jolt of pure adrenaline shot straight to his chest.
He didn't want to wait, didn't want to play the standard, boring game of artificial delay.
He tapped the message icon. “I promise I’m paying attention,” he wrote.
“The wine in your picture is an Oregon Pinot, and you look like you were entirely unimpressed by the opening band.”
It took less than two minutes for the three dots to appear.
“Impressive,” Felicity replied. “It was a Pinot. And the band was atrocious. You’re already doing better than 90% of the men in my inbox, Mike.”
What followed was an intense, high velocity conversation that stretched deep into the early hours of the morning.
There was no awkward small talk, no tedious exchanging of resumes.
They traded sharp barbs, flirted with a dangerous, unspoken edge, and quickly realized that the chemistry between them was combustible.
Over the next three days, the texting became an addiction.
Mike found himself checking his phone during meetings, his pulse quickening every time her name popped up on his screen.
By Thursday night, the anticipation had reached a breaking point. They agreed to meet at a secluded, upscale cocktail lounge downtown.
When Mike arrived, the bar was bathed in a deep amber glow.
He spotted her immediately. Felicity was sitting at a corner table, wearing a dark blue dress that hugged every curve of her body.
The fabric clung to her waist and the swell of her hips, dipping low enough at the neckline to offer a tantalizing view of her cleavage.
As Mike walked up, his eyes locked onto hers.
He was an athletic guy, filling out a tailored black button down shirt, and the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable.
Felicity’s eyes tracked him from his boots up to his shoulders, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across her lips.
The date was a blur of intense eye contact, shared laughter, and escalating touch. By the time they finished their second round of drinks, they practically ran out to the street to hail a cab back to her apartment.
They broke through her front door, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in the hallway.
Mike pinned her against the wall next to the large, plush L shaped gray sofa.
Felicity’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her bare pelvis grinding hard against his throbbing cock.
They tumbled onto the cushions in a frenzy of absolute lust.
Mike stripped off her panties and unbuckled his belt, his mind completely consumed by the sight of her.
He buried his thick, heavy cock deep inside her tight, dripping pussy right after teasing her clit.
The friction was incredible, a raw, primal rhythm that had Felicity screaming his name and clawing at his back.
He drove himself into her over and over, his balls slamming against her soaking wet pussy.
Her pussy gripped him like a vice, milking him with every deep, punishing thrust.
Felicity arched her back, her tits bouncing as she begged for more, completely devoured by the sensation of his thick meat stretching her out.
They fucked with a desperate, wild energy until they both shattered, clinging to each other as their explosive orgasms tore through them, leaving them both completely spent, covered in sweat, and hopelessly hooked.
The next afternoon, Mike was at his desk, his mind completely drifted back to the memory of Felicity’s tight pussy wrapped around his dick, when his phone buzzed on the desk. He snatched it up, expecting a dirty text continuing the momentum from last night.
Instead, it was a message from Felicity that made him pause.
“Hey... so I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is last night was literally unbelievable. The bad news is my body hates me today. I woke up with the worst burning sensation ever. Just left the urgent care clinic... I have a UTI”
Before he could type a response, a second text popped up.
“The doctor put me on strict orders: antibiotics, a ton of water, and absolutely NO sex for at least a week while everything heals. I’m so embarrassed. But I still really want to see you tonight if you’re down? We can just be lowkey, order a pizza, and watch a movie. No pressure at all,
I totally get it if you want to reschedule!”
Mike didn't even have to think about it. He actually liked her, and he wasn't the type of guy to bounce just because sex was off the table for a few days. He wanted to show her he was one of the good guys.
“Don't be embarrassed at all, it happens! I’m so sorry you’re dealing with that, it sucks,” Mike texted back. “I’m absolutely still coming over. Keep your sweatpants on, rest, and I’ll handle the food. See you at seven.”
At exactly seven o'clock, Mike knocked on her apartment door, holding a pizza box and a grocery bag filled with bottles of cranberry juice and water.
When Felicity opened the door, she was wearing an oversized, incredibly soft grey hoodie that swallowed her frame, paired with a pair of tight, black lounge shorts that showed off her long, toned legs.
Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face.
She looked cozy, comfortable, and incredibly desirable.
“You’re an actual saint,” Felicity said, her eyes lighting up. She stepped back, letting him inside, and immediately wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was so worried you’d think I was broken and cancel.”
“Not a chance,” Mike smiled, setting the food down and wrapping his strong arms around her. “I told you I was paying attention. I’m here for you.”
Felicity laughed against his chest, her cheeks flushing. “You are the sweetest. Come on, let’s eat on the couch.”
They moved over to the massive gray L shaped sofa. Mike sat down, extending his legs, and Felicity immediately curled up right against his side under a heavy blanket. They ate lazily, flipping on a dark, tense thriller movie.
As the movie started, the physical proximity worked like a slow burning fuse. Mike’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the smooth skin just below the hem of her lounge shorts. Felicity shifted, her body pressing closer against him, her hand sliding up his chest.
Every time Mike’s thumb brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, he could feel a subtle tremor run through her.
He was getting incredibly horny. Beneath his jeans, his cock was waking up, growing thick and rock hard, pressing uncomfortably against his denim.
He shifted his hips slightly to hide the bulge, but Felicity noticed.
She looked down at his lap, then up at his face, her hazel eyes dark with a sudden, heavy heat.
“You’re so fucking hard,” she murmured, her voice dropping into a sultry whisper, completely ignoring the TV screen.
“Can you blame me?” Mike asked, a rough edge to his voice. “You’re sitting right next to me. I can’t stop thinking about how wet you were last night.”
“Ugh I know,” Felicity sighed, her fingers tracing a line down his abdomen. “It’s a literal tragedy. I am so horny right now, Mike. Like, painfully horny. But the doctor said if we fuck, it’s just going to make the infection a million times worse.”
She stared at the TV for a long moment, her mind racing. Suddenly, her eyes widened slightly as she remembered a detailed thread she had read on Reddit about couples navigating temporary celibacy through mutual exhibitionism.
A wicked, brilliant smirk slowly spread across her lips. She turned her head to look directly at Mike, a mischievous, slutty glint in her eyes.
“Hey,” she said, her voice dropping into a low, commanding purr. “Let’s play a game.”
Mike raised an eyebrow. “What kind of game?”
“A no touching game,” Felicity explained, her breathing already starting to quicken. “The rules are simple. You can’t touch me, and I can’t touch you. Not even a single finger. But we’re both going to please ourselves right here, watching each other do it. We get to watch every single second of it.”
The sheer, raw eroticism of the suggestion hit Mike like a physical blow. His cock throbbed violently in his pants, a thick bead of pre cum dampening his boxers. The thought of watching her touch her own pussy, while he stroked his dick right in front of her, made his mouth go completely dry.
“Are you serious?” Mike rasped.
“Dead serious,” Felicity whispered, her eyes locked onto his. “I want to watch you get hard for me. And I want you to watch me get wet.”
Without waiting for him to reply, Felicity threw the blanket off her legs and slid across the long cushions of the L shaped couch, positioning herself at the far opposite end.
She sat back against the armrest, spreading her legs wide so she was facing him completely.
Mike stayed at his end, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal.