1. Chanel 17


    Date: 9/21/2015, Categories: Masturbation Author: tangerinesky, Source: LushStories

    I sigh heavily and finish taping up the last box. I didn't think I had that much shit, but the eight large, full boxes suggest otherwise. After Eugene dropped me back at Aaliyah's --after our daring stunt in the hills-- I decided to head home and start packing since I'd be paying the deposit on my apartment tomorrow. I changed into some jean shorts and a tight tank top while I packed, and it took me most of the day, but it's done. I flop onto my bare mattress and stare at the ceiling. I feel a slight pang of despair thinking about leaving this place. I've lived here for a long time, so many memories. This has been my room on two separate occasions, my last boyfriend, Brian, stayed here for a short time with me on the most recent stint. All the times I’ve had friends over, barbecues, birthday parties. All the nights Ethan and I hung out in the basement. Ethan... I cover my eyes with my arm thinking about my friend. We got closer in more ways than I ever thought we would, and I’ve never felt so distant from him now. The guilt I thought I once lost courses through my nerves at the unmistakable feeling that this is all my fault. I may have had cynical thoughts in general these last seven days, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I hadn’t thought about Ethan 95% of the time. I knew what we had wasn’t exclusive. I knew it wasn’t permanent to any degree, and I knew we weren’t together. But I also knew the unspoken nature of our ‘agreement’. Part of me felt like anything was ...
    ... possible. We were enjoying ourselves, and I say that with confidence. The times we laid together, the way his arms would hold me in an iron grasp like he never wanted to let go. His penetrating green eyes never escaped my notice, the way he would stare into my soul, always searching. I was never overly thoughtful in these moments, but every time I looked back, I felt something there. Even now, I know deep down that I still genuinely like Ethan. That was never lost. Hidden, perhaps, by my careless need to forget the drama. Every sexual tryst I’ve had over the last week was marred by thoughts of Ethan. How much bigger he was compared to Eugene, how his mouth satisfied me more, how well his hands contoured to my body. Of course Eugene pleased me, I’m not completely biased. But the connection I felt with Ethan was more pronounced, I can’t deny. I thought I was a cultured, tolerant woman, but my behavior this last month has been cringe worthy. And now all I want to do is make it right. As if on cue, I hear the front door open upstairs. Ethan’s laughter echoes through the house down the stairs to my open bedroom door, and I hear someone with him. When their footsteps sound down the stairs, I figure now is as good a time as any to tell him I’m moving. Tomorrow. I stand up and walk to my door, and when Ethan’s eyes meet mine, I see a flash of surprise before he gives me a neat, easy smile. God, he’s looking as good as ever in all his height and broad shoulders and dark hair. “Hey,” he says ...
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