My Freaky Boyfriend: Panty Talk
By Steph E. Strong
Copyright 2012, Steph E. Strong
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Panty Talk
It had been four days, three hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds since I last had my boyfriend’s cock inside me. Wayne was on the other side of the country, speaking at some law conference and attending to some other business. Some of it was personal – like, I think he was going to go to a myriad of collectors’ conventions, but for some of his less-than-kinky hoardings, like comic books, baseball cards, and lord knows what else. Part of me didn’t know what to do. We had an open relationship, so it wasn’t like I was desperately waiting for him and his penis to come home. Only, I was.
I danced at Spanky’s lounge a few nights, but none of the girls seemed to want to go out. Plus, I really hadn’t had a chance to reconnect with any of them since I started spending a lot of time with Wayne. Also, I wanted to short break from my webcam show, as there’s only so much acting “interested” for pervs like SassyUnicorn4551, Manwizard69, or 92hornyrobotXXX I could do. The last few nights at the club brought in a good wad of cash, and most times, I only rub my pussy for internet strangers to make up poor nights dancing. That, or they’re something really kinky I want to try out.
I guess I just wanted a quiet night in. Since my boyfriend was out of town, I figured I wouldn’t be comfortable lounging around his place – even if I had a key. So, I went home to my tiny apartment. The idea was to pop some popcorn and watch some late night hot man-on-man mixed martial arts action. Sure, that was a lot of violence, but it still featured half naked men with lots of muscles rolling around a caged octagon together. It seemed scandalous enough to keep me interested, but the blood and the punching kept it from being all out porn for me.
That night’s fights were not that interesting, though. I’m sure, to an MMA geek, the stats were great, but for casual television watching, it just didn’t grab me. The match featured a Brazilian with a low, sloping brow and a receding hairline. Yet, thick hair covered his body, from his legs, to his chest, arms, and back. It looked like he shaved his face and his neck though. Gross. Scars marred his Japanese opponent’s forehead, and his cauliflower ears protruded like bumpy door knobs from the side of his head. Plus, he had extremely large, bushy eyebrows. I didn’t watch long.
Instead, I surfed through my channels hoping to find anything I could just zone out on. Still, I could find were prison documentaries, weepy movies about abused people, and infomercials. I thought to call it a night. Boredom gnawed at me, and so I took my phone and my tablet computer to my bedroom. I figured I’d just stream a movie to my bedroom TV through an HDMI cable, but before I even started sifting through my digital rental options, my cell rang. Wayne, the caller ID announced. Grinning, I plopped myself down on my bed, and I answered.
“What’cha doing?”