I awoke six hours later, suddenly cold, and dragged myself out of bed to shower. My entire torso, it seemed, was covered in dried cum, and it took a goodly amount of work to get myself cleaned off. I called down and ordered a sandwich from room service, and as soon as it was delivered (by a young and very attractive, somewhat flirty woman), I tucked in, and then fell asleep again, awakening on what was extremely early morning local time. As it was a bit too early for breakfast and I was wide awake, I decided to use the gym downstairs, and pounded out a furious routine, running just over four miles and utilizing the weights for about 30 minutes. I’d been back to working out regularly the last few months to channel my stress and anger, and while I wasn’t yet anywhere near the “carved out of stone” status I had in my college days, I’d shed some pounds and was looking damn good for a man 10 years my junior. As I was leaving, I saw her again, coming into the workout room. She quickly hopped up on a bike, and began cycling through the screens, her headphones in and blasting music. I hesitated, taking her in again—up close, maybe 15 feet away, she looked even better. Her skin was flawless, her face chiseled and so damn lovely, with full lips, high cheekbones, and those eyes looked even larger. Her hair was in a ponytail, and although she was dressed in utilitarian workout pants and a large sportsbra, she looked incredibly appealing, and, dare I say it, fuckable as all hell. In fact, I felt myself starting to respond to her proximity and was starting to get some sensory overload, as my mind started clicking with thoughts of bending her over and ripping off her pants, grabbing her hips as I…
My reverie was broken as she looked up, and gave me a half smile of recognition, inclining her head towards me. As she reached for a headphone, I realized suddenly she wanted to say something to me, and I panicked, turning on my heel, grabbing the doorknob, and bolting from the room.
I literally ran to my room and hit the shower. What the hell was wrong with me? I was reacting to this girl like a scared teenager, and I couldn’t do anything in this situation. As I soaped off, I was bothered by another painful erection, and the object of my new lust kept popping into my head. I let my hands roam again, this time not wasting time and instead thinking about her in detail as I finished myself off, my release flushing down the drain along with the rest of the shower water. Relieved, I got out, dried myself off, dressed, and went down to meet Jim for breakfast at a cafe he had scoped out just down the block.
“You doing any better than yesterday?” he asked, between bites of his omelette.
“Yeah, I’m rested. Still jet lagged, but you know that takes a few days.”
“No, I mean the boner problem.”
“Oh. Yeah, I’m good. I think that girl just does something weird to me.”
“Yeah, well you probably need to get laid, my friend. How long’s it been?”
I ignored his question and said, “Well, it ain’t gonna happen this trip. I don’t know, maybe I’ll finally give in on the whole resentment thing with Theresa and jump her when I get home.”