Page 58 of Pour Decisions
Mom: Ok! Just remember what we talked about last time :)
Right. That one-eighty on JD that she had. I can’tnotremember it, so I try to shove it in the back of my head.
I ignore the next text that comes in from Mom and wolf down the pasta salad that JD made me at some point.
I never see him make my food—I just see him cooking the same basic gym bro meal prep every week (chicken breast, sweet potato, green beans) and my lunches (often elaborate and always delicious) just appear next to my keys every morning.
I’m not mad about it. Turns out eating lunch is better than letting myself get hangry and slamming a granola bar on the drive home so I don’t have a mental breakdown.
I check the time, jiggling my leg. JD is wrapping up his final session with Candice. To keep everything as professional as possible, I’ve kept myself back here the whole time. I don’t want to stare at him. Even though we spend every night together now, I want to see him all the time. Just being in the same roomas him, usually with me curled up in the guest room bed with Bubba while he works, calms my brain down.
Eventually enough time passes that I need to get ready for my next client. He’s gone, so I can fully focus. I get through my next few clients before I can text JD.
Me: Congrats on finishing PT <3 Want to celebrate tonight?
JD: Sure. I’ll plan everything - just be at home around your normal time. I’ll be cooking.
I send him back a heart. I never thought a man planning something would make my heart flutter, but it makes sense. I just have to show up and be pampered, which I do. He isn’t home yet, so I take a shower and slip into a short, silky robe, nothing underneath.
I lounge around on the couch, watching TV, until I hear Bubba tear through the house. He tries to skitter to a stop but slides across the hardwood until he hits the end of the living room rug. The surprise on his face as he loses balance and does a barrel roll makes me burst out laughing.
“Hi, Bubba. Excited to be home?” I ask, putting my hand out.
Bubba rights himself and comes over to greet me, tongue out and tail wagging. He buries his nose into my neck as I pet him hard the way he likes.
JD comes in moments later, carrying grocery bags. He gives me a half-smile, his eyes going straight to the dip where my robe is open.
“Is this part of the celebration?” he asks.
“It can be.” I shrug, letting my robe fall open more.
His eyes darken and he doesn’t take his gaze off me, even as he puts the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. I stay put until he stalks over to me. I sink into him as he runs his hands all overmy body, the cotton of his button-down shirt smooth against my skin.
“Bedroom.” He turns me and gently pushes me down the hallway.
All the gentleness of the nudge disappears when we’re near the bed. He yanks the robe off of me and pitches me forward onto the bed.
“On your stomach. Face me,” he grunts, undoing the buttons of his shirt. His fingers fumble over them, leaving some done and others undone.
I do as he says, putting me right at eye level with his cock. Our hands clumsily work together trying to free his cock, and when he finally shoves his pants down, I open my mouth for him. He gently grabs my hair, but stuffs his cock into my mouth with a moan.
The position is a little awkward, but I love that he can fuck my mouth this easily. That I can trust him to not genuinely hurt me.
He was hard from the moment he slid into my mouth, but he gets harder the longer he fucks my mouth. Instead of giving me a verbal command, he pulls out and flips me around with alarming ease. I glance up at his expression, checking for pain, but he’s fine.
He drags me to the edge of the bed by my ankles and slams into me so hard that it takes my breath away. He used to fuck me like this when we were first together, but his back has held him back recently.
Well, up until now.
I’m smiling like a fool, but I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s able to do this without pain, especially because he’s tearing me from reality in the best way. He gently rubs my clit, a contrast from the harsh fucking, and it’s just enough to make me crumble.
And he keeps going. The man’s stamina is the best and worst thing to happen to me, because I don’t know how much longer I can handle this without disintegrating.
I come again at some point—I’ve lost track of time—and finally, he gets close enough to come too. I squeeze around him and watch him lose control. He’s stunning, his usually tidy hair a mess, his shirt mostly unbuttoned, his pants just low enough to pull his cock out. Undone, all for me.
He finishes with a groan and rests a hand on the bed. It takes him a few moments to collect himself, then get a washcloth to clean us both. He strips off his clothes and gets into bed next to me.
“I’m so glad PT helped your back,” I say with a sigh.
