A/N

A huge shoutout and thank you to Fran aka SUNFLOWERFRAN, for helping me fix up my very, very, rough draft. Im still fairly new to this and took the hit a little harder than I should have. You worked your magic and I am so in love with this first chapter! I hope you're still interested in the other chapters!

My combat style Doc Martens scuffed along the linoleum floors of the rundown 7/11. I had circled the aisle twice and I still couldn't decide between a bag of Cheetos or a handful of Slim Jims to go with my six-pack of Corona. The clerk rambled off into his phone and angrily waved his hands in frustration. I kept my head low while taking in the rows of food before me, still indecisive. I felt the watchful eye of the owner and almost couldn't blame him; it was nearly midnight and my attire wasn't exactly up to par. My favorite pair of jean shorts, faded and in need of a serious wash, were paired with my usual black muscle shirt. I wasn't terribly unappealing, but the neighborhood wasn't the greatest.

Nuts. I'll settle for the honey roasted. Whistling a soft tune along with whatever radio pop sensation played through the speakers, I finally made my way to the front with my beer clanging beside me. The clerk eyed me over as he took his time ringing up the few items I laid before him while maintaining steady conversation into his phone. Whatever had agitated him earlier must have quickly passed, because he now chuckled and nodded his head in agreement while looking over my license. Before he could total up the final sale, I jumped back snatching up an extra-long Slim Jim and plopped it on the counter between us. Heartburn would be worth it. Grinning, I stood before the cashier with money in hand and waited for him to complete the sale.

With a ding, I was out the door and began my trek home. No one has ever messed with me around these parts, but you could never be too careful. Luckily, my apartment was only a block and a half away. I had a love/hate feeling for my place; I had a great job that allowed me to afford the spacious studio, but at the same time, it was lonely. Most evenings I passed my time hidden away from the world by painting for the local museum. A scout new to the business picked up my street art and made it happen for me nearly a year ago today. Here I was making more than I can spend yet I still haven't set aside the time to buy myself a decent car, or a better place to live. Regardless, my earnings were piling high in the bank and for that, I raised my Slim Jim in salute to the moon.

I must have been a sore sight; standing in the moonlight with a half-eaten Slim Jim raised to the sky. I gave a low chuckle as I continued my walk, I could see the complex now. Just a few more yards and I would be back to lounging in front of the TV in my boxers. The night felt eerily quiet and there wasn't a soul in the streets. The buildings looked gross; there wasn't any plant life to brighten up your feelings, just your usual trash and scum along the walls.

I turned into the stairwell of my building and heard the TV from 1A. Hal, a partly deaf Vet, hid away in his little kingdom and passed his days watching the Food Network. Thin walls consisted of Sundays mornings spent in bed listening to the Pioneer Woman go on about her meals of sunshine. I brought Hal groceries every Monday and Thursday morning and have yet to be invited in to eat. He never asks me for anything specific; just to get "whatever looks good."

I was still standing in the stairwell closest to 1A when I heard 1D's door slam open against the wall and an angry wave of curse words flow from inside. Light feet made their way quickly down the steps before nearly running directly into me. It was the pretty brunette. Sarah? Sarai? Sam?

"Excuse me..." she interrupted my name train.

I stood there like an idiot before realizing I was completely blocking her escape. I quickly backed down the three steps I had barely made up and pressed my bag and myself along the wall to allow her to pass.

She smelled of tacos and something fruity. I could hear my beer tapping against the wall as I remained flat and watched her retreat into the street. 1D was still shouting behind closed doors, so I took the steps two at a time and blasted into my home, hoping to avoid an awkward encounter. I wasn't a huge fan of the guy who lived there, but we've managed to stay out of each other's way. He once helped me bring a painting to the main floor, but we don't usually share anything more than a nod. Eye contact was especially avoided on the late nights he brought in a stream of various women, although I had seen Sarah with him quite a bit of lately.

I locked the door behind me, kicked off my boots, and unbuttoned my shorts. I planned to down the bottles before any condensation had time to develop. Nuts, beer, swish, and swallow. My feet were crossed on top of the coffee table with my remote in place.

I was nearly done with my third beer when a spout of restlessness hit me. I had finished my nuts with the first beer and wished I'd gotten the bag of Cheetos after emptying the second. The clock read 1:30a.m. It wasn't too late to jerk off.

An Arby's commercial was airing its new sugar bacon, ranch sandwich on TV, raising another hunger within me. I couldn't tell if I was hungry, or horny, or both. I licked the leftover honey roasted off my fingers and eyed my unbuttoned pants. I had completely forgotten to strip down to my boxers. With my head craned towards my crotch, I calculated the effort it would take to get off so that I could get back to drinking. When was the last time I had even gotten off? I don't even want to think about the last time I had been with a woman. There weren't enough beers in me to deal with the thoughts of the last woman I had even cared for. A fuck buddy would be nice, someone to share a beer and an orgasm with; shoot my load and scoot her out the door without any butt hurt feelings.

Finding a fuck buddy required making conversation and developing a mutual interest, which equates to too much work. Jerking off was simple enough, I never really needed porn;he stood at my will. I could feel my dick harden at the thought of relieving myself. It HAD been a long day. I moved my shorts and underwear to my knees, ignored the TV and began to stroke. My dick felt solid and familiar. The woman from 1D flashed through my mind; I replayed her wild mane bouncing around her shoulders as she descended the stairway. Her brown eyes had fired for me to get out of her way, but she stood by her polite demeanor before shooting out the door.

Her ass fit so tight in those jeans. And her hips swayed so angrily—roughly even. She wore quiet shoes, or whatever kept your feet from stomping like an angry peacock, as most women seem to enjoy doing. My dick was starting to strain behind my slow strokes. I could still smell whatever fruit she was wearing, and tacos. I gave a snort, temporarily halting my hand down my shaft. Tacos. I must be losing my mind if a girl smelling like Mexican food had me close to jizzing myself. Her chest had heaved a little; I struggled to remember the color of her shirt as her tits bounced beneath the material. They weren't quite large...or small, just enough for me to want to reach out and wrap as much of my hands around them. Around her ass. Around every inch of her if she had let me.

My breath was coming in harder, and my forehead was starting to sprout a few beads of sweat as I picked up the pace. I laid my head back against the couch cushion and played with a bit of precum dripping down the side of my cock. I didn't want this fantasy to end...With my eyes closed, I took control of my dick. I stroked a little more roughly against the shaft and squeezed my fist up to the head before slipping downwards against myself again. I was starting to feel a tingling as my sack tightened up against me, a few more strokes... I hadn't meant to whisper out loud. Sarah... My hand was moving along faster, fingers teasing around my head a little tighter each time as the friction became hotter. I was so close I could feel it in my toes.

BANG.

A single sharp rap against my door sat me straight up on my couch, dick in hand. I felt like my heart was about to explode out of my chest. My dick practically choked. I checked the clock, which read 1:47a.m. and then snapped my eyes to the door behind me.

Had I imagined it?

Knock.

Knock.

It was a little softer this time.

Nope. Someone was definitely at my door. My dick was quickly losing hope, lying half-alert within my palm. My body was struggling with the tension I had worked so hard to get rid of.

Who the fuck?

At this hour?

I couldn't form a coherent thought. I struggled between wanting to choke the shit out of my dick or choke the shit out of whoever was at my door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I stood up from the couch and wiped my hand on a Papa John's napkin strewn across my coffee table. Do I open it? I stared down my door from behind the couch, willing whoever was outside to leave.

I never had visitors.

The knocking had ceased, but I could see the shadow beneath my door of someone standing there. I pulled my boxers and shorts up enough to pass as decent and quickly crossed the distance to check the peephole.

It was her!