I look at my phone, seeing it's already after midnight.
That's soon.
He's been here for almost a month. The initial two-week quarantine passed with barely a blip from the airlines. He got an email saying that they should have more information in a week. That was like ten days ago. I was starting to think he was never going to leave.
"It's about damn time." I beam at him, genuine happiness making me smile. If it feels a little cracked around the edges, it's only because I've finally gotten used to having him here. I can admit, at least to myself, that it's going to be a little weird being all by myself again.
It'll be good, though. Real good. A relief, to not have to worry about Derrick anymore.
He should be jumping on the bed and running around my house, packing up as quickly as possible. Instead, he stares at his phone as if it's betrayed him.
"I figured you'd be relieved. I know how anxious you are to get up in the air again."
At that, emotion finally cracks the impasse on Derrick's face. He pushes up onto his knees, his hair an untamed mess falling over his forehead.
"Yes," he says, then louder with more feeling, "Yes! Yes, I am relieved. No offense, but I was getting a little stir crazy."
I laugh at that, the understatement of the century.
"No offense taken, Derrick. You belong in the sky. Not in some dinky little house with a homebody. I was getting stir crazy on your behalf. If I had to put up with you much longer, I might’ve had to make you sleep in the yard. Where all stray dogs belong."
He grins at me, surely remembering our first conversation when he showed up on my doorstep, but then his face falls again.
"You won't miss me?" he asks, something genuine lacing his voice.
"I didn't say I won’t miss you." I reach toward him, pushing his hair up off his forehead. "But I think I'm ready for personal space again. It'll be nice to have my period in peace."
A pretend shudder runs through him, or, at least, I hope its pretend, and I shove him with a hand on his chest.
"You know," he starts, and for the first time in as long as I've known Derrick, he looks unsure of himself. "I know we said what happens in quarantine stays in quarantine. But if you wanted, we could maybe keep seeing each other."
That catches me off guard, but I dismiss the thought almost as quickly as he suggests it.
"No," I say, but smile when I do so. "We better not."
No matter how much fun this was, Derrick is a playboy. He couldn't promise me he'd be faithful, and I wouldn't want to ask him to. The thought had honestly never occurred to me. It's best if we leave it on good terms before one of us goes and does something stupid. Like fall in love.
He gives me a squirrely look, which only makes me smile harder. He lies down on the bed, lifting his hips to remove his boxers.
"No?"
Derrick pulls a condom from the box sitting open on the table, dropping it onto the bed between us before making his way to me, pulling my sleep shirt over my head.
"No."
Without waiting for him to ask, I lie on my back and let him slip my panties from me, grinning as he drops them to the floor.
"Why not?" he questions as he brings his face to my neck, sucking on the spot just behind my ear lobe.
I get the feeling I'm being seduced.
"Because I had a really good time these last few weeks," I answer breathlessly, as he trails his lips down over my collar bones. “Make sure you tell my fellow sky sluts that you’ve finally had a great pair of tits in your mouth.”
He drops his chin against my face, laughing big belly laughs.
"I'm gonna miss these fat titties," he mumbles, wrapping his lips around said titty, and sucking it hard into his mouth.
I'm at the time in my cycle where I'm most sensitive, and I arch into his touch, practically moaning only from his tongue on my nipple. "That makes no sense, by the way," he says, and I realize he's back to talking about us continuing to hook up.
"I'm a woman," I pant as I guide his mouth onto my other breast. "It's my prerogative."
He grunts at that, fingers gliding over my hips and following the curve of my thighs.
"It makes no sense," he complains again, spreading my legs and dropping to his belly between them. He throws one ankle haphazardly over his shoulder, and brings his face between my thighs, laying open-mouthed kisses and love bites up my inner legs.
He uses his hands to open my labia, examining me with a sculpture’s eye, before flattening his tongue against my folds and licking a hot stripe from slit to clit. I flatten my hands against the mattress as he uses his tongue on me one last time, slicking my hole with his tongue before slowly working his fingers in. He knows me well by now, and as he sucks on my lips with force this side of painful and flicks my clit with his tongue, I come in a spectacular explosion of fireworks. Momentarily forgetting his need to breathe, I hold his head against my crotch, grinding against his face and squeezing him with my knees.
"Sorry, sorry," I pant, my knees going weak about the same time I remember he requires oxygen to live, and he growls at me in response, reaching for the condom and ripping open the foil.
"Man, I fucking love that," he rumbles, sheathing his cock before rubbing his head around my center. I'm riding the post-orgasm bliss train, not yet a functioning human, as he slicks himself in my cum, drenching the length of his condom-covered dick.
"You sure you don't want to keep this up after tonight?" he asks again, easing his dick into my entrance. It's a tight fit, as always. He gives me a moment to acclimate to his size before beginning to thrust in and out.
"I'm," I start, then stop when he kisses me, examining my tonsils with his tongue. "Sure," I spit out when he lets me up for air.
Why do men always think they know better than us? If I wanted a boyfriend, I’d ask for one.
"Better make it good then," he growls, before taking my left leg and raising it over his shoulder.
I was not made to bend like this. Absolutely not. Chubby girls do not bend like pretzels.
But when Derrick re-adjusts his arms so that they're planted on either side of my breasts and suddenly hits a spot inside of me never touched by man before, I realize that maybe I wasn't not made to bend like this either.
His hips piston into me like it's their sole mission in life, hitting that sweet spot inside of me over and over. Sweat coats his brow, and with every snap of his hips, he tries to kiss me, failing more times than not.
He lifts his arm, and I think he's going to touch me, when he takes my hand in his, and brings it to my clit.
"Touch yourself," he pants, "I want to watch you as you come apart around me."
It won't take much, and I rub tight, hard little circles across my nub as Derrick loses himself to the rhythm of our sex.
We're both panting, sweat pouring from out skin. It makes us slick and slippering, and he uses that to his advantage, pushing deeper with every thrust. My pants turn to moans, and I try to tell him as I'm coming, but all that comes out is a series of grunts and whimpers that I'd be horrified about if I had the brain cells left to care, and if he wasn’t lost in his own release.
Derrick seems to get the point either way, because he moves to let my burning leg drop, and plasters himself to my chest, stealing what little breath I had left with his kisses.