Pure Obsession (Finn) - Chapter Three - Sex Stories

Pure Obsession (Finn) - Chapter Three

... stayed for breakfast. And she wouldn’t have said it was nice. I frowned and went back into the kitchen to finish what was left in the pan. The porridge tasted the same as usual. Maybe she was just being nice. Maybe one night would be all we had. I couldn’t let that happen. No, I had to play it right. I knew that I had to get the timing perfect but the long hours alone seemed to drag on for so long. It seemed pointless to be sitting there alone in that tiny flat, while I could have been out, speaking to her or just watching her. I liked the way she talked, the way she expressed herself and the way she trusted me without even knowing me. I wanted more of that. I wanted to spend every hour of every day with her, finding out every little secret, every fear and hope that went on in her mind. I showered, and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and paced around the flat trying to figure out what I would say the next time I saw her. I stood in front of the mirror and tried to practice. I felt like a fool. The guy staring back at me was an idiot. I didn’t need to do it. All I needed was to act natural. “Act natural.” I said the words out loud to my reflection and felt pathetic. It wasn’t even funny. I couldn’t laugh but I couldn’t take myself seriously. I was overthinking it. I felt restless. There was nothing constructive I could do. I methodically cleaned the flat for a while, but even when everything was in place, I couldn’t sit still. I needed to relax. I grabbed a ...

... sweatshirt and walked out of the lousy building and started running. I didn’t have a destination. The streets were loud with traffic. I didn’t know where I was headed but I just wanted to be tired enough to sit still. I wondered how many lies I must have told her. I couldn’t think of any. Lies of omission. Not real lies. White lies. White lies didn’t hurt. White lies were good lies. It was impossible to live without white lies. One foot in front of the other. I told myself not to get tired and yet it was an effort to keep going. My breaths were short and painful. I was out of shape. I told myself to breathe slowly and steadily. In. Out. In. Out. I could feel the pulse in my ears, the heat of my blood throbbing. Breathe. My mind briefly flicked back to when I was a kid unable to get to sleep. I used to count sheep but then the sheep would start doing acrobatics and cartwheels and I got too excited to sleep. I’d hear myself breathing and then I’d have to concentrate on it because otherwise I was afraid I might forget to breathe. In a way, seven year old me, was as messed-up as twenty seven year old me. I had sex with Alessandra O’Neal. I said the words in my mind and yet they seemed fictional, like a wish or a dream. But it had happened. I had sex with her. Her body and my body, together. Her mouth and my mouth, kissing. It was surreal. I wound up on a street just off the main road and stopped to drag in air. My heart was thumping and my hands were numb from the cold. I leaned over, ...