Ethan and Chanel 33 - Sex Stories

Ethan and Chanel 33

... into her living room, Red Hot Chili Peppers playing from her stereo. "Fine. You?" I ask, and follow her mesmerizing ass in those fucking pants. "I'm great," she smiles, picking up something from her coffee table. "Let's smoke out back," she says, leading the way again. We step outside, the sprinklers running on her lawn, the sky getting darker, and she looks up at me. "Are you ok?" Chanel asks. She knows me all too well, and I already know I can't do it. I don't want to tell her. I don't want to see her upset. "Yeah," I nod, and put my hand on her back. "Just missed you," I add, wanting to tell her something that's true and will make her happy. She smiles and pulls my face down so she can kiss me. The moment her soft lips touch mine, I pull her tightly against me, kissing her with my certainty of how much I like this. How much I love it. How now more than ever I'm sure that I don't want to waste my time on anyone else. She missed me too, I can taste it. "You sure you're ok?" she asks, and my soul cringes knowing she can sense something's wrong. "I am now," I say, and she smiles. "I messaged you earlier, you could have come seen me," she says when I finally let her go. "I know I'm sorry, I was with some friends," I say, and take a seat next to her in the folding chairs. She asks me about my day, which I skim over, and I keep her talking about hers as we smoke outside. "I called that Camille woman, remember, from Puerto Rico?" she asks, exhaling smoke, and I nod. "Yeah, well, ...

... I thought maybe I could make some extra cash if she's serious. She set something up for me this weekend, I might let them take pictures of me," she smiles as if it's funny. "You won't be naked will you?" I wonder aloud, and she laughs. "No, I don't plan on nude photography being part of my portfolio," she assures me, and I feel like an asshole. She not even mine to care, especially after what I just did. I take another hit and focus on our conversation. We go back inside when the joint is gone and sit on her couch, watching TV shows that are way more crazy when you're stoned. She has no problem curling up on my lap so she can play with my hair, and kiss me whenever she wants. This has been normal for us lately, and I both love it, and feel disgusted with myself right now. I lay down and pull her on top of me when she says she's tired, but doesn't want to move. Her little body cuddles up to me, her head on my chest and I sigh, stroking her back. I ponder through different scenarios of what could happen if I tell her. What if she was cool with it?...Why on earth would she be cool with it? That would only happen if she fooled around with someone else recently. Ok, no more of that, next scenario. What if she was, of course, upset, but listened when I told her how much she means to me, and forgave me? She's got one hell of a big heart, I can almost see her doing that. Then I start to imagine us over the last few weeks, and that scenario quickly turns to smoke as well; look at us ...