Expanding the Relationship: Chapter 50.5

Danny works out a bit of his "frustration" after seeing Lindsay in that opera dress. If male masturbatory fantasies aren't your thing, just keep walking. Warning: there is quite harsh language in this one. I figured Danny's not really one to mince words.

Danny decided to forget that Lindsay'd been out to the opera with another man and chose instead to pretend that she'd worn that dress for him. A slow grin spread across his face at that thought and he felt a stirring down in the belt-area. His right hand moved from behind his head to lay on his chest, gently rubbing the fabric of his shirt as he recalled just how the bodice had fallen away from her body when she'd bent over.

I'd like to have her bent over something, alright. Damn.

The stirring in his trousers grew more pronounced and he looked at the clock, trying to come to a decision. 4:18am. He'd told Mac he'd be in at nine to interview that other driver, which meant he had to wake up at eight. He sighed and got out of bed to brush his teeth. Three and a half hours of sleep after working for 24 hours straight. Talk about a life of luxury.

He saw his haggard appearance in the mirror and splashed some cool water on his face. I can't believe I was tryin' to pick up while lookin' like this. I've seen better lookin' guys in the fuckin' morgue. He blew out a breath in frustration then finished his nighttime hygiene rituals. Returning to his room, he stripped down to his boxers and flopped back down on his bed, his hands resting on his abs.

That hair… that dress…His thoughts couldn't seem to stop returning to Lindsay Monroe, dressed for a night out. I like her better without all the gunk on her face, though. I want Montana, not Miss Monroe. He was still considering the implications of the fact that he "wanted" her when he noticed that his right hand had wandered downwards and was now idly stroking his half-hard cock through the cotton of his shorts.

Fuck me. Since when have I wanted to get in the pants of a hick from the sticks? He flashed back to the image of her in tight jeans and a tight little tshirt, eating pizza on his couch. God, those were good pants, though. And the shirt…He thought back to that pink sweater with the wide neck and the tight bust. She has some really really great shirts.

His hand was far from idle now as his favourite memory, the one of her in the hot pink bathing suit standing in the middle of the break room beach, popped into his mind. He groaned and thrust his hips up into his hand. God, I wish it was her cunt and not my hand. He squeezed his cock a bit more, sliding his precum along the shaft. I'll just bet she's real fuckin' tight, too. His hand moved more quickly, lubricated now with the evidence of his desire.

I wonder if she's a moaner or a screamer? That thought made him catch his breath. God damn. Montana screamin' my name and cummin' hard around my cock… His body shuddered as he felt himself get close. We'd break every piece of furniture in my apartment and then break everythin' in hers.

His mind was filled with images of sex with Lindsay: positions, locations, sounds, smells, feelings. A constant stream of erotically-charged sensations passed through his brain and he couldn't hold back any longer. With a grunt and a gasp, he shot his load all over his chest and stomach until finally the last few salvos dripped down his fist. He panted and tried to catch his breath, surprised by how quickly he'd managed to finish.

He looked at the clock. 4:36. I haven't been that fast since I was what? 12? Looking down at his messy torso and hand, he sighed. Might as well just shower now and sleep in an extra 20 minutes later, right?