Fully Clothed

“Come over after you get off work. We can watch Transformers,” the text reads.

A fire emoji burned bright next to his name, Ethan. I’d added his number from Tinder and hadn’t bothered to take it off just yet. I hadn’t been expecting much when we matched a week ago. He was funny. I rarely replied, but his bio read: “6’7” and yes I know it matters. I can choke slam anyone for you.” When I ask him about his day, he gives a good answer. Not just the “okay how about you?” I let him give me his phone number two days into things. I text him a day later with a meme that made me think of him.

It went on like that for a while until we got to talking about the celebrity we wanted to fuck the most. We had both said Megan Fox because of some Transformers wet dream. It was how I told him I wasn’t straight.

“Is this just an excuse for us to get horny watching Megan Fox together?”

He answers with an, “absolutely” and a smirking emoji. 

“I get off at 4:30.”

I’m on campus for the summer, working and taking a few classes. He’s a summer RA, making some money doing almost nothing. He has an entire college apartment to himself, no roommates. I have a feeling we won’t make it through Transformers but it’s the second week of June and I’m removed enough from the semester to have a libido again.

I catch myself thinking about if jeans shorts and a cropped t-shirt were right for this. I also start to worry about the fact that I haven’t shaved anything in months. I remember I’m fat too and some men have an issue with this. My profile doesn’t hide anything but they are certainly more flattering photos. I distract myself from the downhill spiral and uphill trek with thinking what he’ll do to me.

I text him when I’m close and he says he’ll be waiting outside for me, the building layouts are confusing. I see him in the pavilion, looking down at his phone at a picnic table. His limbs are long and bent in an awkward way to fit. He’s a little thick himself with extra tummy and thigh, the beginnings of a dad bod and a head of black hair beneath a bucket hat that barely fits his head. 

Something possesses me to caw like a bird at him but it works and he looks up, immediately fixing his brown-eyed gaze at me. He looks me up and down and grins, lingering on the sliver of skin at my waist. Desire burns through me as he gets up and jogs closer. I can’t even try and meet him halfway. I just want to look at him and stay locked in this place where a man is so excited to see me for the very first time he runs in the summer heat.

“Look at you,” Ethan says and his voice is not what I expected. Less bass, more treble and a twinge of that California upbringing he’d mentioned.

“Look at you,” I repeat, looking up and reveling in feeling small. At 5’11”, I rarely get that all encompassing, carnal high of knowing someone could take me. He can take me and he looks like he wants to do nothing else.

He grabs my hand and leads me to his apartment building. He asks me how work was and if the walk was too much as we navigate through the halls. I answer but his hand is so big as he holds mine that it’s all I can think of.

We step into an elevator and he leans against the wall as his hands shift to my hips. He squeezes a little before pulling me against him. The action feels too intimate for a week’s worth of flirtation but I enjoy him taking the lead.

He just looks at me for a moment, down at my lips and then back into my eyes, “You’re really fucking pretty.”

I would’ve giggled if I was the type. The elevator opens and he just keeps leading me. I like it, the way he takes charge. I think he knows this. When we finally get to his place, he opens the door. He has a modest flat screen set up in the shared living space, his laptop hooked up to it.

I plop down on the couch and watch him go about doing things. Moving trash and dishes that had probably sat out for far too long. He says living alone isn’t good for him, that he gets gross. Every time he bends, I admire his ass in the shorts. I want to spank it.

When he finally sits down next to me, hitting play on the movie, he looks nervous. I put my feet in his lap and he immediately relaxes, fingers trailing my calves, knees, and about ten minutes into the movie my upper thigh. He plays like he’s doing it absentmindedly, but the touch is far too graceful.

That scene comes on. The one where Megan Fox lifts the hood of Shia LaBeouf’s Autobot car and her torso just stretches out. The part of me that knows this is female objectification shuts off because Megan Fox is hot and the guy touching my kneecap like it is a sex organ is hotter and I’m aching. 

We make eye contact and he just wiggles his brows, making me chuckle and shake my head. He scoots closer to me so now my thighs are in my lap and his arm is beside my shoulder. He’s touching the skin right where my shorts end with his nails, scratching it lightly. I want to moan and I want to throat punch him for being this smooth.

Making a game out of this is what he’s doing, I am more than willing to play. I take my hand and settle it at the nape of his neck without looking away playing with the hair as lightly as I can. At some point I know he’s staring at me. We’re not even halfway through the movie and I meet his eyes, a smirk on mine. 

He grabs me and pulls me to sit in his lap, arms around my waist. There’s a very intense fight scene on screen now but neither of us are paying attention. He starts to talk to me, pretending like one of his hands wasn’t on my ass and the other just barely between my thighs. My hand is full in his scalp now, twisting and tugging and he’s hard beneath me.

Soon his massive hands are on my thighs that straddle him as we make out. He’s a wet kisser and when he shoves his tongue in my mouth and pulls back there’s a saliva string between us. I shimmy myself against him, grinding down as I pull back to look at him. I like dry humping, the friction of it all. I nip at his exposed neck, Adam’s apple jutting out to lick it a little, still moving my hips.

He moves his hand to the button on my shorts and I nod for him to keep going. He slides his way into my panties and finds me wet. An expletive leaves my mouth and he just brushes my clit with his fingers making me shudder. I see him smile at this and he presses it again just to confirm. My whimper and tug of his hair were all the confirmation he needed.

I become selfish at some point and just focus on his fingers on me. He’s slow and methodical, good at it. I’d never been fingered in such a gentle way by a man. I thought about how big his hands were and threw my head back when I came.

I’m panting for air, face buried in his neck as he just holds me. Out of the corner of my eye I see him lick his fingers clean of me.  An aftershock goes through me just at the sight of it.

“That was hot,” he mumbles once I get back my senses.

I hum in agreement and go to reach for his pants. He’s wet where I touch him.

“I’m, uh, I’m good,” he says sheepishly, “Sorry. I don’t usually cum from…”

He trails off.

“Don’t be,” I say, meaning it. “That’s really hot.”

“Making a guy jizz his pants just from rubbing your thigh on him.”

I nod feverishly and he laughs, his whole body rumbling and vibrating against me. I want to stay a few more hours and have him fuck me later but I’ve got an early class tomorrow and an exam I still have to study for. We stay like that, Transformers still playing in the background.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.

Photo by RF Studio