Between the Sheets

“Would you consider being my girlfriend?” he slurred.

I sat up, a bit startled. We had had this conversation many times before. Sure, it was fun to fuck…but actually being together? It wasn’t going to happen. I was still in love with my ex and he was still in love with his. And that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. We were just friends with benefits. “Um….”

“Oh. Um. Dumb question. Pretend I didn’t say anything. We can talk in the morning.”

I settled back into his arms, feeling weird. But then, the whole situation was weird. He and I were sitting on my bathroom floor together, having just drank a fifth of vodka. And not the good vodka. Like, Banker’s Club vodka. So far, I was keeping mine down, but he had already throw up three or four times, and we decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to try to get him up into my bed. I was in college and had the top bunk.

But I was the dutiful friend, not just for fucking, but also for rubbing his shoulders and telling him that he wasn’t going to die. I squirm a bit on the hard, cold tile. I guess I did love him, a little. Just not in THAT way.

“I do love you, you know.” He said, reading my mind.

“Just not in that way?” I answered.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I do love you for sitting here with me. Am I going to die?”

“No.”

Around 5 AM he finally felt a bit better and I helped him to the couch. Soon, he was snoring away, and I slipped into my room and tried not to wake my roommate who was asleep in the bottom bunk. My hands lingered on my still-hot pussy. He was good at taking care of me, even if it was just with his thick, rough mechanic fingers, not his long, smooth cock. He held me down on that bathroom floor as I writhed and tried not to raise the suspicions of my roommates with my moans.

Maybe I did love him.

He slipped out the next day without saying goodbye. I don’t blame him. It was noon before I woke up, and I could still feel alcohol running through my veins.

Maybe I did love him.

He didn’t call to talk. I waited with my cell phone in hand as I did homework for the next day, but it didn’t vibrate. Finally, at about 9 PM, I called him. Nervous. It was tearing me apart, but I decided I was going to have to decline his request. We were just friends with benefits - the go-between while we were looking for that next special relationship. I couldn’t date him. Even if I did love him.

“Hello?” His voice was husky. God, did I really want to hurt him.

“Hey. You aren’t dead!”

He laughed, “Haha, no, I’m not dead.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Sure….” he said. My heart raced. “…what about?”

My cheeks felt hot and flushed, even though we were just on the phone. “About…what you said last night…”

“Oh God, what did I say? I really can’t remember much from about midnight to the point where I was finger fucking you.”

My heart sank. Even if I was going to turn him down, it was still nice to be loved. But it had been the vodka talking. He didn’t love me. He was just drunk.

“Nothing.”

“OH come on now…what did I say!?”

“It’s no big deal. I gotta go.”

Be careful with want you do to a girl’s heart. Professing love after a fifth of vodka is a bad idea.

Edit from Aurora: I’ve moved! Cum visit me at Between My Sheets!