Friends with Benefits(7)

One time, around two in the morning, Allie knocked on my door. I had  opened it to find her dressed in a matching gray sweatsuit holding a  plastic container filled with brownies. She had slipped into my room,  and the two of us sat on my bed together talking about anything and  everything that didn't involve Kyla.


I had wanted to kiss her then. She had looked so good, and her company  chased away the lingering hollowness I had felt after Kyla left me. But I  had resisted. It wasn't right to make a move on Allie. She wasn't the  kind of girl who would want to be with someone like me. She especially  wouldn't have thought too highly of me for going after her so soon after  a breakup. I knew she would misunderstand. She would have thought I was  going for a rebound.


Feelings for Allie had been there ever since, but they didn't matter  because I knew they were one-sided. Not only that, but I also knew she  deserved better than the likes of me.


But the draw of her diary was too much to bear. All of Allie's most personal thoughts were within reach. I had to read it.


Allie surprised me by unfolding her legs and standing. She stretched,  arching her back like a cat. Her hair tumbled down her back, and her  shirt lifted up, exposing bare belly. I tried not to look. It was  impossible.


"I'm going to tidy up the kitchen quickly," she said. "I'll be back in a few."


"I'm going to use the bathroom, then I'll be in to give you a hand," I said, standing up.


"Alright," she said, bending over to collect our dishes from the coffee  table. I admired her ass and the little open space between her thighs. I  had, more than once, wondered what it would be like to put my hand  there, to feel her warmth and the inside of her thighs.


She made for the kitchen, and I went to her bedroom. I feigned going  into the bathroom, just in case she walked back into the living room.  She didn't, so I darted to the edge of the bed, snatched up the diary,  and hurried into the bathroom with it. I closed and locked the door.


I was already opening it as I shuffled over to the toilet. I closed the  lid quietly and sat down, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees,  peering down at Allie's neat, slanted printing on the pages of the book.


I opened to a random page and spotted my name on the first line. I  stopped and started to read, ignoring the tickle of guilt in my gut.





Sunday, April 4th


Steven and I went to Toby and Suzanne's wedding tonight. Neither of us  had dates, so instead of going stag, we partnered up. A few people asked  me if we were finally seeing each other. I hated telling them no.         

     



 


He danced with me. I can't stop thinking about how his hands felt on my  lower back, on my hips, on my waist. The way he looked at me. For a  moment, it felt like I was one of the girls he brings home all the time.  One of the girls he sleeps with.


I want to know what that's like. I want to know what it would feel like  to be kissed by Steven Marx. I wonder what he tastes like, what his lips  feel like. I want to feel his tongue in my mouth, against my clit. I  want to feel him everywhere. I want him.





I heard Allie drop something in the kitchen. Whatever it was, it was  heavy, and it shattered. She yelped and then started swearing up a  storm. I closed the diary, more than aware of the way my cock was now  pressing up against the inside of my pants, and slipped it inside my  shirt, praying to God Allie wouldn't notice.


I had to read more.


I flushed the toilet to avoid suspicion and ran the sink. I stood in  front of it like an idiot for a solid thirty seconds while staring at my  reflection.


"You're a jackass, Steven Marx, a complete and total jackass," I said to myself.


My reflection didn't object. I was about to steal my best friend's diary. There was no doubt. I was a real piece of shit.


But the words in that book were doing all kinds of things to me. My  mouth was dry, my fingers were tingling, and I was trying to think of  anything possible to squash the desire that had come over me.


When I had myself under control, I left the bathroom and joined Allie in  the kitchen. One of her plates was in a hundred pieces on the floor,  and she was crouched down collecting it all. She looked up at me with  those perfect eyes of hers and pouted her full lips.


"I made a mess," she groaned.


"You have bare feet," I said, shooing her away with one hand. "You go  grab the broom, I'll clean this up." It was the least I could do after  reading her diary-and consciously choosing to continue reading it later  once I brought it home with me.


I swept the kitchen and dumped the broken glass in her trash can. Allie  sat perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, watching me, and I  couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that brain of hers? What  was she thinking? Was she going to look for her diary after I went home  with the intention of writing an entry in it about our evening?


Would she write about her fantasies?


Was she thinking those thoughts now?


When the kitchen was clean, I propped her broom against the cupboards.  "Well," I said, "I have another early start tomorrow. I should get  going."


"Okay," she said, hopping down from the counter and landing with a quiet  thump on the linoleum. She walked me to the front door, and I held one  arm against my side to hide the lines I worried her diary was leaving on  the inside of my shirt.


"Drive safe," she told me as I stepped out into the hallway.


"I will. Have a good sleep."





Back at home, I lay down on my bed with Allie's diary clutched in my  grip. I told myself at least three times that this was not the kind of  things friends did to each other. This was not how I should repay her  for always being there for me.


Regardless of how wrong I knew it was to betray her trust like this, I  couldn't help myself. I opened the book, my cock already stiffening, and  began reading.





Thursday, June 12th


I had a dream about Steven last night. I don't know where we were in the  dream, but it was a beautiful bedroom. The bed was in the middle of the  room and was surrounded by draping, sheer white sheets. I was standing  at the foot of the bed. Steven was kneeling upon it. He was naked.


I joined him. I wasn't wearing clothes, either. I crawled to him on my  hands and knees. His cock hovered inches from my face. I told him how  badly I wanted him. I told him that I wanted him to use me however he  saw fit.


He put his dick in my mouth. The dream felt so real. I can almost  remember the way his fingers felt in my hair as he held me against him;  as if it was a memory, not a dream.


After a while, I rolled onto my back. He stayed on his knees above me. I  pulled his hips down to me and held my mouth open for him to use my  throat. He did. While he thrust in and out, he leaned over my body,  dragging his fingers over my stomach until he reached my pussy. He  touched me, tracing semicircles over my clit. I was so wet. Wetter than I  am now.


When I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he slid a finger inside me. It was ecstasy. It was everything I have ever wanted.


Then I woke up.





I undid my jeans and kicked them off. I pulled my shirt off and tossed  it over the side of the bed. This was more than I had expected. This was  so much more. I flipped through more pages of entries that were similar  to the one I had just read. There were dozens of entries filled with  the same sort of fantasies.         

     



 


She wanted me to fuck her.


Allie Wright wanted me to bury myself inside her.


I wrapped my fingers around my shaft. I couldn't think of the last time I  had been this hard. I stroked myself gently, flipping to another page. I  spotted my name and resumed reading as I worked myself, edging my way  closer to blowing my load.





Tuesday, June 17th


Steven and I went to Happy Hour at Vixen's after work today. We met  Chance there. He's doing well. He's seeing a new girl and seems quite  fond of her. Her name is Claire. I think he said she works for a bank or  is an accountant or something like that. She's good with numbers is  what I remember.


We had a lot to drink.


Steven was definitely drunk. Chance was the culprit. He bought four  rounds of tequila shots, and I couldn't take all of mine so Steven  stepped up. Six tequila shots and a pitcher of beer later, and Steven  was feeling the booze.


Chance and I had to hail him a cab when he tried to drive home. I rode  back to his place with him to make sure he got in okay and found his  bed. He started taking his clothes off once he was in the front door. He  left them all the way down the hallway to his bedroom and walked around  in nothing but his boxers. His tight boxers that left nothing to the  imagination. I've never seen so much of him before. I've been so turned  on all night.


I made him drink some water and take Tylenol. He called me a helicopter  parent. It was kind of sweet. We laughed. Then he told me how much he  loved my laugh.


I brought him to his bed. He got on top of the covers and asked if I  wanted to spend the night. It was late, he had said, and he knew I had  an early morning.