We knew it was getting late, but neither of us could have really told you what time it was. Needless to say we were moping a bit; I really didn’t want to go home. I never did, but I always ended up on the coach. I was kind of ready, anyway – I had my box ready. Shoes could go on last.
By this point I had usually been there for approximately twenty-four hours. In that time, we may have had sex two or three times. Maybe even four, depending on how horny we were and how much trouble we had sleeping. I stopped counting after the first few times, but once we tried to estimate how many times we had had sex and it was, in her words, “definitely over a hundred.”
That’s a lot of sex, now you think about it.
Whatever the reason, at this point we both had an itch that needed scratching and so, while I’d usually be dressed and ready to go at this point, this time we were both naked and on her bed. Ready for the main event.
I can’t recall exactly what made us horny, but I was certainly incredibly hard and she was certainly incredibly wet. Planting a smooch on her lips, I steadily – but with a definite amount of urgency – slid my cock into her. We let out a collective sigh as I settled into place. So familiar by now, and yet so good, every single time.
“Hey! It’s time to go! Are you two ready?” came the call from downstairs.
We shared a look, and with a huge amount of regret, and a Herculean effort on my part, I pulled out. My penis was shining, coated in her wetness. A few seconds wasn’t enough for either of us to have come… and we both knew this.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she lied, trying – although not particularly successfully – to hide the fact that she was disappointed. “We’ll have to finish this off next time you’re here.”
“But that’s, what, two weeks?”
Two weeks later and I damn well made sure that we had the time.