Always Leave Them Wanting More
Copyright© 2020 by Smokeroom
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - After quoting P. T. Barnum's famous motto, "Always leave them wanting more," Russ' sex life take a turn for the more frequent.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Magic Heterosexual Fiction Polygamy/Polyamory Oral Sex
My phone’s alarm went off at 8:30 and the morning was as awkward as to be expected. We both needed to be at the theater by noon, so Christy was quickly finding her clothes so she could get back home and get herself ready for the long day.
“I, um, I don’t want this to sound like I didn’t have a great time last night. But I’m not usually like that,” she said as she put yesterday’s socks on. “I’m usually a bit more reserved. I think it was the adrenaline from the play that made me...”
I interrupted her. Which, in hindsight, is a shitty thing to do, “No judgment; No expectations. I had a great time. I’m glad you slept over.” (Was I? I don’t think I’d actually processed it yet.)
“Me, too. Probably best if we’re not hanging over each other at the cast party. Wouldn’t look good. But I do want to see you again.” She said, rummaging for her car keys.
“Ariel saw you cuddling up to me last night,” I said. “I bet rumors are already flying.”
Christy opened the doors, “See you in a few. Let’s do something after you strike the set tomorrow, ok?”
“Deal.”
Rumors were indeed flying, and Macy, the music director, warned me that sleeping with cast members had a “real Jeffrey Epstein stench to it, if it’s true.”
So, Christy and I focused on the shows and only made small talk at the cast party. She left the party early. Me, being the director, meant I didn’t have that luxury.
I got to the theater at 11 a.m. on Sunday. Gilbert had come and gone and the prop room was immaculate and everything that had been used was put away. Two crew members were already working on disassembling the set.
The folks from the costume department were asking me for phone numbers to cast members as they tried to track down missing articles.
We were making quick work of it, and I texted Christy to tell her I should be free by 2:30, if she still wanted to do something.
Christy said she’d meet me at my house around 3:00.
Christy was about to be a 4th-year chemistry major at a university about 3-hours away from Riverplains. She was spending he summer living with her parents, and interning at a chemical manufacturer downtown. She’d started as a performing arts major, but discovered she had an aptitude for chemistry and pursued it.
Over the last couple of months of summer, I’d been impressed with her drive. I’d met many ladies over the years that had looks and could sing and act, and never tried to further themselves from those goals. Most end up back doing community theater in the summer while working soul-sucking office jobs the rest of the time.
... Oh, my God. I just described myself. Hold up one moment, dear reader. I need to email my therapist.
Anyway. Ahem. Where was I?
Christy rang my doorbell around 3:10 and I let her in. She kissed me hello, which was a nice indicator. I wasn’t sure if things would stay physical after avoiding each other on Saturday.
“Come in!” I said. I motioned for her to sit on the sofa in the living room.
She joked, “I’m gonna gonna leave my clothes on for a bit.”
“Suit yourself. Want anything? I haven’t been shopping much, because of the play, but...”
She asked for a beer, but I was still out. So we settled on water. She called out from the living room, “You’re gonna need a lot of water, because I plan to drain you today.”
Jesus.
“Or really?” I asked, attempting to be nonchalant as I almost spilled a glass of water I was handing to her.
I sat in the easy chair next to the sofa so we could face each other and I could take her in.
She was wearing a simple black babydoll-style t-shirt and white shorts. She wore sneakers and white socks. Her strawberry-blonde hair was more strawberry in the light of the living room, and it hung straight down her back, past her shoulder blades. She wore a shiny pink lipgloss that didn’t really compliment her complexion, but otherwise, her makeup was understated and well done. She looked lovely.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Russ,” Christy said, squirming and smiling and loving the fact that my eyes were feasting on her. “I’m so much more of a ... prude than this usually, but I have never been wetter than I have been for the last hour or so since you texted me.”