Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Single Guy Trying to Get With the “Girl Next Door”: Male, 45, Ph.D. Clinical Research (pharmaceuticals), New Jersey, straight, single.
5:07 a.m. Wake earlier than usual. Always think too much when I wake early in bed. Spent a lot of time with Girl Next Door yesterday working around her house. She lives about 25 minutes away, but if ever a woman had a “girl-next-door” quality about her, she’d be that woman. We met at an animal shelter where we both volunteered. She’s recently separated, for which I’m grateful, as it has allowed us to reconnect. Flirting with her was one thing, listening to her was better, but actually kissing her is surreal. Unlike most guys, I could kiss for hours, or indulge in one of my favorite pastimes, which also involves my lips and a woman’s lips — but not the same kind.
1:22 p.m. Working from home has its benefits — namely, being able to make time when work permits, to talk to Naughty Sub. I’ve known her for about seven years now. We met online, and since, in person. She and I complement each other nicely in that she can give as well as she gets with my sense of humor. But also, because she enjoys “getting” — being spanked — and I hadn’t realized before her how much I might enjoy “giving.” Girl Next Door and Naughty Sub know nothing about each other and have never met.
2:30 p.m. Naughty Sub is at work, always a fun time to text tease her. I typically get the “behave” response back despite the fact that I know just talking about anything sexual makes her instantly damp, as she has shared on more than one occasion.
4:58 p.m. Another quick text tease to Naughty Sub, who doesn’t ask me to behave as quickly this time. Working in retail, she loves the idea that someone knows her enough to get her instantly turned on behind a counter, and trying to keep control until she can get home and get off makes her horny as hell. Pity she doesn’t live as close as she once did. I make a mental note to “explain” my thoughts on the matter to her butt the next time she visits.
10:02 a.m. Always like hearing my phone’s text alert around this time. It’s usually Girl Next Door needing me to help her with something. Often it’s to drive somewhere or run errands, and no, I’m not going to tell her that she has her own car, or ask why she needs help with something as innocuous as grocery shopping. She was brought up in a strict family, but has always been — despite her claims to the contrary — a bit rebellious and naughty.
10:47 a.m. Finally arrive at Girl Next Door’s place. The entire drive I can’t help but wonder if she would be the kind to enjoy the sort of spanking I’ve given Naughty Sub. Given her upbringing, I’m thinking yes, but it’s so frustrating not knowing that I wonder if I’ll ask her sooner than she’d be willing to answer honestly.
2:14 p.m. Two hours in the grocery store. Seriously hard flirting has me horny, and I suspect that was Girl Next Door’s plan all along. It occurs to me that the reason she chooses the market we frequent rather than a major store much closer is that the aisles are narrow. When she brushes by to get something she “forgot,” her body presses into my back, and it’s everything I can do not to turn and ravish her right there. If it’s deliciously air-conditioned like it is today, and I feel more than just the soft slope of her breasts, it requires a whole new level of concentration not to drop to my knees.
2:58 p.m. Despite my hints, nothing happening there today. She’s still way too busy and preoccupied, I tell myself. Perhaps the visits to the market are for me as well as her.
8:32 p.m. No texts from Naughty Sub today. That, and the thought of tasting Girl Next Door inside the store, make getting myself off an imperative if I want to be able to walk. The nice thing about living alone is that can be done anywhere. My imagination is like a sandstorm tonight, whirling from one scenario to the next, including one where I slowly pull Girl Next Door over my knee, but I release before I have a chance to explore that cute, tight bum.
11:34 a.m. Fixating all morning on the differences between Naughty Sub and Girl Next Door — specifically, their backsides. Naughty Sub is totally unaware that she would be called “submissive,” but I can feel how she willingly grinds herself against my knee. Girl Next Door, I suspect, has imagined that she might be “submissive.” Her butt is so much softer and smaller than Naughty Sub’s that I wonder how it would sound and what she’d do.
4:45 p.m. Decide to text tease Naughty Sub, chastising her for not texting yesterday or today, and promising retaliatory measures when she next visits. She tries to be assertive and playful, daring me to tell her what I mean, but I’m not taking the bait. She will have to earn it. And as she has confided in me before, she will enjoy that perhaps more than me.
9:45 a.m. Another day of shopping with Girl Next Door, this time for furniture. Conveniently, bedroom and living room furniture. Beds, sofas, the sorts of places we’ve confided, shared, talked, and engaged in more intimate activities. Furniture stores are conducive to flirting — they’re large, and lying on a bed is part of the process. I got up early to finish work to have plenty of time to spend with her. She’s wearing perfume, and somehow I remember — smells do that — the first time she wore that scent and what it did for me.
10:25 a.m. Eventually Girl Next Door grasps my hand. “What’s with you today? What’s up?” When I don’t respond, she says, “So what do you think?” and falls back onto the four-poster bed I am standing next to. She’s playful, smiling, and rolls over a few times, laughing and finishing face down. She turns, still smiling, and says, “Well?” I think she knows. Fortunately, I’m a good enough actor to hide not only how badly I’d like to take her right there, but that I’m having great difficulty walking.
3:30 p.m. After a productive shopping trip, I drop Girl Next Door off at her place. We chat a bit and then she leans over and kisses me, long enough that it’s not just a peck yet not long enough that it would be an invitation to something more. With a smile, she gets out of the car, and I watch her walk away. When I look up from where I had been admiring the swing of her hips, she’s still smiling — and looking right at me.
10:35 a.m. A busy day working, which takes longer than it should as I cannot concentrate.
1:15 p.m. Text chat with Girl Next Door. Amazing how after all this time I still get excited to hear her text tone. Mostly small talk, but eventually asks me what I thought of the bed. I tell her I had trouble concentrating. “Was there a bed there? I was more focused on your eyes and smile.” She can’t help but text smile back.
7:18 p.m. Girl Next Door has a way of texting right when I think of her, as if she had a chip in my brain. This happens again, as she just checks in to see what I’m doing. It occurs to me that it’s the little things like this that make me feel connected to her — not that I wouldn’t want more.
8 p.m. Indulge in intense private session, vigorously hard, almost violently so, with my imagination spinning over that bed in the store, Girl Next Door’s hips, various combinations and positions. My bicep aches after from the force I must have been using.
12:25 p.m. Buy fresh food and have an impromptu lunch with Girl Next Door. We sneak in bites as we work on arranging some of her new furniture. The sparkle in her eye when she says “new beginnings are nice” gets me going and I smile back. Not the right time, though, for more.
9:35 p.m. A text alert rings out while I’m thinking of Girl Next Door’s comment about new beginnings. It’s Naughty Sub. I know what it means when I get a text this late from her. She asks me to call her. Sometimes I wonder if my nether regions have muscle memory, because even while dialing her number I feel the telltale twitching of my hardness against my shorts.
10:15 p.m. Knowing what she needs, without the emotional involvement, is somehow freeing to both of us. I call her after waiting long enough to ensure she’ll be properly “motivated” to cling to my words and admonish her for not addressing me properly. After an apologetic, “Yes, sir,” I know she needs me to talk to her as I have before. My voice methodically talks her from lightly touching herself, to imagining her grinding over my knee, to my fingers thrusting into her. She begs me to let her come, and I’m in the mood to be generous, so I keep her on edge for less time than usual. I tell her that I’m bending her over my knee. She moans. I slap my hands together several times, listening to her breath become ragged before I whisper the order for her to come. She dutifully obeys. We talk a while after, and she is as grateful as always. As am I, for I can finally walk to bed.
8:25 a.m. Having coffee, wondering just where things with Girl Next Door may lead, and how she may respond when someday I get to touch her the way I’m starting to think I know she wants to be touched.
12:15 a.m. During lunch, I can’t help but wonder what Girl Next Door is doing today. I don’t like not hearing from her this long. It’s not jealousy; it’s wanting to share whatever she’s doing, no matter how small or seemingly menial.
7:42 p.m. Excitement again as Girl Next Door texts and reads my mind. “Sorry, my phone was in the charger and I forgot to turn it on all day. How are you doing?” The question is interesting, as it implies she knows I wouldn’t be doing well not hearing from her so long. We talk for hours. Strangely, although very turned on, the urge to take matters into my own hands isn’t there. I’d rather save it for her.
10:58 p.m. I drift off thinking of kissing and holding her.
TOTALS: One sexually charged grocery store shopping trip; one sexually charged furniture shopping trip; one masturbation session; one phone sex session; six dangerously close to flirting sessions.