FILTHY: A Steamy Romance Collection

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FILTHY: A Steamy Romance Collection Page 23

by Brent, Amy


  She’d shit a brick if she knew that I was fucking Dean Warner and a half dozen other women in her faculty group.

  I’m not dumb.

  I know that the shit will hit the fan someday.

  Until then, I’ll just keep on lying and fucking her.

  And hiding all the sharp objects when she comes to call.

  I climbed into the passenger seat and set the briefcase on the floor between my feet. Sheila waited until I buckled up, then pulled away from the curb and headed off campus.

  “So, how was your weekend?” she asked.

  “Fine. I took the bike up into the mountains,” I said. “How was yours?”

  “Oh, same old same old,” she said with a sigh. She put her hand on my thigh and scratched her nails into my leg. She gave me a sideways glance and smiled. “I missed you.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course,” she said, her hand sliding up my thigh toward my crotch. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  “Of course,” I said with a nervous chuckle. Her hand kept inching upward. By the time she pulled to the curb in front of my bungalow, she was rubbing my cock through my pants.

  She put the car into gear and turned towards me, leaning her right elbow on the console and putting her left hand on my erection.

  “I could come in for a minute,” she said, her fingers squeezing and massaging my cock beneath the thin khaki. “I could help you with that.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, putting my hand on hers to stop the movement. “If you don’t stop that, there’ll be no need to come inside.”

  “I can make you come in your pants,” she said, trying to wiggle her hand from mine. She gave me a dreamy look and stuck her tongue between her lips.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, pushing her hand away and picking up the briefcase to cover my crotch. “I have to get back to class and I don’t want to do it with a big wet spot on my pants.”

  “You’re no fun,” she said, pouting her lips.

  “Now you know that’s not true,” I said, giving her a sly smile. I reached for the door handle and gave it a tug. “Thanks for the ride.”

  She grabbed my arm before I could open the door. “Hey, Charlie’s away this weekend. I was thinking I’d come over and spend the night on Friday. Maybe you could take me on a bike ride into the mountains on Saturday. Maybe we could take a blanket… have a little picnic… maybe fuck in the woods… like animals…”

  “Oh, yeah, that sounds great,” I said, pushing open the door with my elbow to make my escape. I slammed the door and leaned back in through the window. “We’ll talk before then.”

  She narrowed her dark eyes at me. “Logan, is anything wrong?”

  “Wrong? No, of course not. I’m just in a rush is all.”

  She stared at me for a moment, like she was trying to read my mind, then gave me a little smile. “Okay, I’m off to meet with Dean Warner. I’ll see you later.” She dipped her eyes and gave her chin a lift, as if she were looking down at my crotch through the closed door. “Be careful with that thing, Professor. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  I stood with the briefcase covering my erection and waved as she drove away.

  It was turning out to be a very interesting day.

  The kind of day you look back on as the day before the shit hit the fan.

  Courtney

  “You actually gave him your thong?” Mindy grinned at me from the other side of the lunch table. “Oh my god, Courtney, that’s so freakin’ awesome. Why don’t I ever think to do stuff like that.”

  “Because all the guys you wanna fuck just say bring it on,” I said, biting off the end of a French fry. I picked up a napkin and wiped ketchup from my lips. “Professor Clark is making me work for it, so I have to get creative.”

  She leaned in with a devilish look in her eyes. “What do you think he’ll do with them?”

  I picked up the soda cup and brought the straw to my lips. “I dunno. Maybe he’ll sleep with them under his pillow. Or jack-off with them stuffed in his mouth.”

  Mindy chuckled and waved a hand at me. “God, Courtney, you’re awful.”

  “I’m not awful,” I said with a playful frown. “I’m just horny.”

  “If you were just horny, you’d just go get laid,” Mindy said matter-of-factly. She glanced around the crowded cafeteria. “There are a dozen guys in here right now who would gladly scratch that itch for you. This thing you have for Logan Clark, it goes much deeper than that. It’s not about just getting laid anymore, is it?”

  “Oh god, please, not the psycho-babble bullshit again,” I said. Mindy was a psych major who hoped to someday have her own psychiatric practice where she could listen to crazy people bitch and moan about their crazy lives all day.

  We had been roommates for the last three years and Mindy was constantly trying to psychoanalyze me, like I was her own private lab rat or case study or something. It thrilled her when I told her about my daddy complex, and she was constantly picking apart my various relationships and sexual misadventures, looking for deep, dark undertones that she could dissect and solve for me.

  Sometimes it was fun to play along, but other times, when she actually struck a nerve, it was not such fun. I knew I was a mental and sexual basket case. I didn’t need my roommate constantly trying to figure out why.

  I huffed at her and said, “Honestly, Mindy, I wish you were an art major or something that didn’t require you to psychoanalyze me all the time. I’m not your class project, you know.”

  “Maybe not, but I think there’s more here than you just trying to screw an older professor,” Mindy said. She put on a thoughtful face as she picked up a French fry and swirled it around the ketchup on her plate. I recognized that face. It was her “I’m staring into your brain” face. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. She munched on the fry and studied me with her eyes almost closed.

  She asked, “Do you ever think about doing more than just having sex with him?”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Do you ever think about having a relationship with him that goes beyond just sex? Do you ever think about having a long-term relationship with him?” Mindy picked up her cup and shook the ice, then suctioned out the last noisy sip and cocked her eyebrows at me.

  “It’s hard to be seriously psychoanalyzed by someone sucking that loudly on a straw,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I told you, I just wanna have sex with Logan Clark before I leave for Chicago in a month. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she said, slowly nodding, giving me her ‘all knowing eye’ stare. “I’ve seen you chase guys before, Court. You’ve never gone to this much trouble just to get laid.”

  “Maybe I just like a challenge,” I said. “It’s not like I’m falling in love with him, Mindy. I just want to have sex him. So please, cut the psychoanalysis before I punch you in the tits.”

  “Okay, session over,” Mindy said, holding up her hands. She glanced at her watch and picked up her lunch tray. “I’ve got to get to class. Don’t do anything crazy without checking with me first. There are stalker laws in this state, you know.”

  “Very funny, Dr. Ruth,” I said. “I’ll see you at home.”

  I watched her make her way through the crowded cafeteria, the short girl with dark curls and a heavy backpack thrown over her shoulder.

  Mindy was going to be a fine psychiatrist someday, though I would never admit to her that my fantasies about Logan Clark sometimes did include more than just sex.

  I knew it was foolish.

  I would be leaving in a month.

  I wasn’t looking to start a relationship.

  I just wanted to get laid.

  At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

  Logan

  Two days went by and I couldn’t get Courtney Shaw off my mind. Even though I hadn’t seen or heard from her since she tossed the stained thong on my desk and sauntered out of my classroom, she was consta
ntly there when I closed my eyes to sleep or just tried to turn off my brain at the end of a long day.

  I found myself sitting on the couch at midnight with a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other, blurry eyes directed at the TV but not watching it, my brain in the bedroom with her.

  I knew it was pointless to be thinking about her in such a way, but I couldn’t help it. She refused to get out of my mind. The image of her smiling up at me with her fingers around my cock and my jizz on her lips played over and over in my head on a loop. Try as I might, I couldn’t turn it off.

  I had spent my days wondering what it would be like to bury my cock deep inside her and my nights dreaming about doing it. I wanted to feel her warm, soft skin at the tips of my fingers. I wanted to roll her plump nipples between my fingers. I wanted to taste her lips and lick her pussy and feel my cock slowly slipping inside her.

  Fuck!!!

  Even the alcohol didn’t quell my desires or hamper my thoughts. If anything, it made things worse, because the more I drank, the more I thought about her. And the more like shit I felt the next day. Even Tom Brooks noticed the dark circles under my eyes and the puff redness of my cheeks. He had shot me a disapproving look in the hallway this morning, knowing that I was preaching the sins of alcohol to him while baptizing myself in it.

  I knew why it was happening.

  It was the age-old temptation of man that dated back two thousand years.

  I was Adam and Courtney was Eve, holding out the delicious red apple, tempting me to take a bite even though we both knew such things were forbidden by our Lord Golden State University.

  Or was she really Lucifer, just using Eve and the apple as tools through which to draw me into temptation, knowing that I would eventually give in and all hell would break loose.

  It’s the curse of man: we want something we can’t have.

  And knowing that we can’t have it just makes us want it even more.

  For men of questionable faith and values, men like me, there comes a point where willpower and consequence are thrown to the wind.

  There comes a point where my cock impales itself deep inside her womb and I fill her with my toxic seed.

  There comes a point where pleasure is served and consequence begins.

  I should have never gone into that restroom.

  I should have never let her suck my cock.

  I should have never accepted her stained thong, so pungent with her juices and tangy aroma.

  I should have never laid naked on my bed with the thong pressed to my face and my hand squeezing the seed from my cock.

  But I did.

  I did it all.

  And now it’s all I think about.

  Her thong was in my briefcase at that very moment.

  I tried, but I could not leave it at home.

  I had to have it near me, within easy reach.

  I took it into the men’s restroom when I got to work that morning and jacked-off into the toilet with the thong between my teeth and the crotch wrapped around my tongue.

  Her thong was my new drug of choice.

  I could not go very long without a fix.

  God help me if her scent ever faded away.

  I’m not sure what I would do.

  Logan

  Thursday night… I went straight home after work, resisting the urge to go to Goldie’s because I was afraid she might be there. I knew that the only way I could resist her was to keep my distance, to not go where she might be.

  I was like an obese person trying to fight the urge to eat: I could only resist scarfing down a bag of Oreos if they weren’t in the house. I could only resist Courtney Shaw if she kept away.

  I shucked off my work clothes and changed into a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. I microwaved a burrito and pulled a beer from the fridge. I took my healthy dinner into the living room and slumped on the couch to watch the news. I wasn’t really paying attention. It was just noise, a hopeful distraction.

  My cellphone was on the coffee table. Midway through the burrito it buzzed with a text message. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and picked up the phone.

  The text message was from a number I didn’t recognize.

  The text message read: Can I cum over?

  I stared at the screen.

  The cursor blinked at me.

  I read the text again, then leaned forward to brace my elbows on my knees. My hands were shaking.

  I typed in: Who is this?

  She instantly typed back: You have my thong :o)

  Fuck.

  I licked my lips and stared at the screen.

  I read the first message again: Can I cum over?

  I quickly typed: Sorry busy goodbye.

  I sent the message and tossed the phone on the coffee table, as if it had burned my fingers. I picked up the beer and took a sip. I held my breath and watched the screen, waiting for a reply.

  Hoping for a reply.

  The phone buzzed. I leaned forward to read the message.

  RU 2 busy to open the door?

  I blinked at the message, frowning at it with the beer bottle at my lips. What the hell did that mean…

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Lucifer had arrived.

  It was now up to Adam to resist temptation.

  Courtney

  I was already parked at the curb in front of Logan’s house when I sent the first text. I typed in and deleted a dozen variations before settling on: Can I cum over?

  It was cute and suggestive.

  Hopefully, it would make him smile.

  And maybe a little hard.

  I hit send and waited for his reply.

  I’d been sitting there for several minutes, watching the house, making sure no one else was following him home. Mindy’s comment about California’s stalker laws came to mind.

  I smiled.

  I wasn’t a stalker, not in the legal sense.

  I wasn’t psychotically obsessed with Logan Clark, nor did I mean him any harm. I just wanted to sleep with him. And I knew he wanted to sleep with me. But if he blew me off this time, I’d take the hint and move on. I’d be sad, but I wouldn’t bother him again.

  My phone buzzed. He texted: Sorry busy goodbye.

  I smiled. A pathetic attempt at resistance if I’d ever seen one. I gave him a minute to stew, then got out of the car and went to his door.

  Standing on his porch, I sent: RU 2 busy to open the door?

  I imagined him reading the message, perhaps excited and a little frightened that there was just a wooden door between us now.

  I held a finger to the doorbell, took a deep breath, and pressed the button. I heard it ding inside the house.

  I took a deep breath and stepped back.

  What happened next would be up to him.

  Logan

  I opened the door and there she was, literally the girl of my dreams, standing just a few feet away, so close that I could smell her.

  Her red hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled with promise. Her tongue went across her plump lips, making them shine. She was wearing a long black coat and stiletto heels. Somehow, I knew that the only thing under the coat was her luscious body.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I said, glancing past her to the street. “Someone might see you.”

  “No one will see me if you let me in,” she said playfully. My eyes couldn’t resist going up and down her. She had her hands in the pockets of the coat. The coat wasn’t buttoned, but it was cinched at the waist by the belt. She brought her hands to the belt and grinned at me. “I’m getting a little warm in this coat. Should I just take it off out here?”

  “No, please, don’t do that,” I said. I could hear the panic in my voice and I knew she could to. I stepped aside and motioned her in. I stepped to the edge of the porch and looked up and down the street. Thank God, I did not see a blue Honda Accord headed my way. Sheila wanted to come over Friday night, but it would not be unlike her to stop by for a quickie betwe
en out-of-town games.

  “Nice place,” she said as I closed and locked the door.

  “Courtney, you can’t be here,” I said, holding up my hands. “We can’t do this.”

  “Yes, Logan, we can. And we must.”

  The coat came open as she turned to face me. She shrugged it off her bare shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

  The breath caught in my throat as my eyes took in her beauty. She was nude, as I expected her to be. Her tits were large and milky white. They hung from her chest, but were round and firm. Her areolas were dark, the size of baseballs. Her nipples were pink and plump, large and suckable. A neatly-trimmed vee of red curls directed my gaze to her clit and pussy lips.

  My cock grew hard, pushing out the front of the running shorts.

  She glanced down at it and licked her lips.

  Without another word, I closed the space between us and pulled her into my arms. The moment our lips touched, I knew we had reached the point of no return.

  Courtney

  I let the coat fall away and stood naked before him. If he could resist me now, he would be the first to do so. Every lover before him took one look at my big tits and round hips and red bush and fell over themselves to get to me.

  Logan looked at me like a deer in headlights. I was a little sad, really, watching him try to resist. I knew there were a thousand thoughts going through his mind. He wanted to fuck me, but he was afraid of anyone finding out and losing his job. I’d never do anything to get him in trouble. This night would be our secret, now and for always.

  His desires slowly overtook his fears. His cock grew hard before my eyes, pushing out the thin material of the running shorts. It was at that moment that I knew he would be mine.

  He moved quickly, taking me into his arms and pressing his lips to mine. His tongue pushed into my mouth, hot, wet. He tasted like Mexican food and beer… I sighed. I loved Mexican food and beer…

  His hands went around my waist and clutched my ass. His fingers dug in hard, kneading my fleshy cheeks, pulling me into his hard cock. I tugged at the t-shirt he was wearing. As he pulled it over his head, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of the shorts and pushed them down his legs.

 

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