Gillian Colbert - Coming Out of Her Shell

Instead, he silently begged her to put him out of his misery. He wanted to watch her come. He wanted to hear her moan.

He loved watching her come. She was beautiful when she climaxed. Arching her back so that her pert, round breasts thrust up into the air. The fingers of one hand buried in her pussy as she plucked and squeezed her nipples with the other. Her moans were music to his ears and ultimately it was the sweet, sexy little purrs she made that sent him over the edge every time.

Today was no different. Her legs tensed and her back began to arch. Finally. This was it, she’d reached the end of her tether and she was going to come.

Eric gripped his penis more firmly at the base with one hand, while he used the other to work the head of his cock harder. He squeezed the head almost to the point of pain as he waited for her to go over.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Let me see. That’s it. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Harder and faster, his hand flew up and down his shaft. He wouldn’t come before she did. He made sure they came together every time and today would be no different.

Eric groaned and cursed himself for a fool. He shouldn’t do this. Every single time he promised himself it was the last time. Every time he swore he’d end it. He couldn’t go on with this torture. He was becoming obsessed and he knew it.

Today’s performance had been the most intense yet and if he didn’t do something about it soon, she was going to drive him to drastic measures. He knew if he crossed that bridge there’d be no coming back… for either of them.

Eric panted with the strain of holding back. She was close, but she seemed to be deliberately prolonging the show. His cock throbbed as sweat bloomed all over his body. He didn’t think he could go on much longer.

“Now,” he groaned. “Come for me. Now.”

As if she’d heard his whispered command, she threw her head back as her orgasm claimed her. Gasping and moaning, she writhed through the whirlwind.

That was all it took. As the luscious sounds of her pleasure reached his ears, he broke and together they rode the wave.

Susan couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was almost worse than when she performed for him. The last three weeks had been focused on one goal, getting past Thursday without going outside.

She’d made sure to be away from home on Thursday afternoon by enrolling in a knitting class. She’d found a class at the local A.C. Moore. It was the only class that took place at exactly 2 p.m. every Thursday. Frankly, she’d have taken wood carving if it had been Thursday at 2 p.m.

If she were home, she knew she’d be out by the pool. This was the only way she could be sure she wouldn’t cave in.

She’d seen Eric a few times as he was leaving in his Jeep with his Pitbull in the back seat. She ducked back inside every time she saw him. She couldn’t stand the thought of being face-to-face with him after he’d seen her so exposed. She was just as afraid that he’d see though her charade to the coward she was inside.

She’d considered signing up for one of his classes simply to have an excuse to finally meet him for real. She’d chickened out though. She was afraid she’d throw herself on him as soon as he came near her and she couldn’t bear another rejection. It would hurt worse coming from him.

She could just see it. He’d step up to her and say, “We’re going to work on down” whereby she’d drop to her knees and proceed to suck him off. That would go over really well with the other participants.

Susan dropped her needles into her lap. Her fingers were cramping and she’d frogged so many stitches that in three weeks, she’d only managed to knit about two inches of the scarf she’d started.

This was supposed to be easy, not rocket science. She held an MBA from the University of Maryland, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out the difference between a knit stitch and a purl stitch.

Instead of neat rows, her stitches varied in size and the scarf wasn’t even rectangular. She’d had high hopes that she could channel her frustration into scarves and sweaters in chenille and silk. Each stitch would be a testament to her self-control. Instead, the would be scarf was as ragged as her nerves.

Susan was frustrated and sick of herself, her agitation and her obsession with Eric. If she wasn’t going to drum up the nerve to speak to him, she needed to simply forget about him. Right, maybe she could forget her name to.

She may not be performing for him anymore, but she was still fantasizing about him and masturbating to the fantasy. Just not where he could see. Her couch, her shower, her bed, her living room floor had all been witness to her obsessive fantasy.

With a sigh, Susan collected her needles and the rolls of yarn she’d so studiously wound into balls and threw them in her Le Sport Sac. Who was she kidding? Knitting was not going to happen.

What she needed was peace of mind. The bookstore was on the way home, she’d go check out their self-help section. Who knows, maybe she could meditate her way out of this bind.

She’d done it again. Disappeared on him as soon as he saw her. Eric whipped his Jeep into a parking spot close to the entrance. He threw the SUV into park and hopped out. She wasn’t getting away from him today. He was going to run her to ground and force her to deal with him. If it had to be in the bookstore, then so be it. She’d have brought it on herself.

He’d spotted her while he waited at the light to make his turn. She’d been busy rummaging around in some kind of tote bag she was carrying and wasn’t watching where she was going. She’d caught herself just as she was about to run into a pole and had glanced around quickly, her cheeks flaming, to see if she’d been caught out before ducking into the store.

Eric was determined to corner her inside. Susan may think she could continue this little cat and mouse game they were playing, but she was wrong. He was tired of her disappearing every time they happened across each other. If he were a less secure man, he’d think there was something seriously wrong with him.

He could handle rejection, but damn there should at least be something to reject first. He hadn’t even so much as asked her out for coffee. She wouldn’t let him get close enough. It’s not like he was trying to marry her or anything, he just wanted to fuck her.

After all the weeks of torture, he’d had an epiphany. The months of teasing had gotten under his skin. It was like walking by a candy store and seeing all of the mouth watering candy on display only to realize the store was closed. Eventually, the longing would get so bad that you just had to get some of that candy and only gorging on it made the desire go away.

This led Eric to the only logical conclusion… the fastest way to stop thinking about Susan, was to do the deed. Often. She was a suit after all, and eventually she’d irritate him enough with all her demands to change that he wouldn’t want to see her anymore let alone screw her. ’Nuf said.

Decision made, he’d been trying to speak to her for the last three weeks, but she’d avoided him like the plague. He didn’t even see her leave in the mornings anymore.

At first, he hadn’t really thought much about it. It wasn’t as if they’d been tripping over each other before, but there had been incidental meetings. When she didn’t show up for her Thursday performance, he’d been surprised, then relieved and then seriously frustrated.

What made her think she could get him habituated to her weekly show and then leave him high and dry? Oh no, she wasn’t getting off that easy. She was going to have to explain herself. Now.