The Dry Spell

Kate had to flip through the hospital’s calendar again to make sure, but after the third time, there was no denying it.

She hadn’t had sex for exactly one year.

Jesus! she thought. That’s horrifying.

Her last relationship had ended so horribly. Her boyfriend (EX-boyfriend reminded herself) had moved to Colorado, and it was good riddance. For two years they dated, then, one day, she saw an advertisement in a local newspaper for an exotic dancer. And, look and behold, there stood her boyfriend. Shirtless, eyes half-lidded, with the by-line reading “No Limits, No Rules” beneath him in script.

She confronted him. He lied. She left.

Now, three hundred and sixty-five days later…

She wasn’t a prude at all. There was nothing prudish about the long, cream-colored vibrator she used three or four times a week, placing it firmly between her legs and letting it ziiiimmmm her stress away. It’s just…most men seemed like assholes.

There was one guy, though…

Six months ago, Jason started working at her hospital, a former paramedic turned pharmacist. He was friendly, kind and always making her laugh, even when she felt like crying. He was also easy on the eyes, taller than her, with an ass like shaved marble. Once, at an employee picnic, she saw him change shirts and his arms were thick and cut with muscle. When he flexed it looked like he had two boulders buried beneath his skin.

Ever since then, when they joked, she always looked for a reason to touch his arms.

He was nice, but he had never asked her out. Jason HAD to know she was interested in him. Although she hadn’t admitted it in writing, when they spoke, she stared straight into his brown eyes, telepathically screaming ASK ME OUT ASK ME OUT. But no dice.

How many times had she been staring at him when he stretched to reach a shelf, or when he bent over to pick up a dropped pen or that time he twisted his body to toss some paper in a garbage can and Kate saw the outline of his cock against the stretched inseam of his slacks?

Her vibrator got a real workout that night. That night, her orgasm had been like a herd of runaway horses. And the next night. And the next.

But that’s all she had, fantasy. And fantasy, as delicious as it was, only goes so far.

Tonight, she’d be working alone with Jason, stocking shelves, clearing old inventory in the hospital’s storage, just general straightening up that was, once a month, done in late night shifts. When Jason arrived an hour before, he joked “We can break into the Ritalin when we start getting sleepy.”

He wore faded jeans, leather boots and a tight black T-shirt. When he took off his jacket, his arms filled the shirt sleeves like sausage casings. Fantastic. And, mostly, delicious…

She, on the other hand, just wore her simple uniform, brown and utterly BLAH!

Eventually, it was just the two of them in the pharmacy. Jason was whistling, cutting open boxes with practiced ease, and then stocking the shelves. Kate kept a tally of the items, writing as Jason called out totals, but all she really did was watch him bend over and open the boxes. He moved quickly, smoothly for such a big guy, and the jeans sculpted his ass perfectly.


About Kink Note

Free sex stories and erotic short stories, daily updates. Some stories are real, some are fiction. We'll leave that for you to decide. View all posts by Kink Note

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