This story is about a guy I met a few times. Although I fell for him, he never could've seen me the same way.
It's a Tuesday night, and I'm walking home from a Narcotics Anonymous meeting in the dark. It's about six blocks from my apartment, but it seems like longer.
The meeting tonight was the same as usual; junkies from town, most of them on parole, telling their somewhat fabricated stories. There was a new face, someone I had never seen around town, and he didn't speak. Usually when someone doesn't talk in group, they "used" that day.
He was handsome, but in a damaged way, his blue eyes dull from years of use. His black hair was curly, but greasy, and he had sores on his face from picking at it. He was wearing a maroon and black striped sweater, and dirty black jeans with a pair of black skater shoes. We made eye contact once or twice, and I could feel his pain in those seconds.
I'm about a block or two from the church where the meetings are held when I notice footsteps behind me. I turn around, and am met face-to-face with the guy from group.
"Oh fuck! Hey..." I trail off, swallowing nervously. It's tough being around users, I need to stay clean and to do that, I usually avoid people that could endanger my sobriety.
"Um...hi. I'm Curtis...I saw you at the meeting, was wondering if you wanted to get coffee or something...I used this morning but I need to go somewhere I can be away from that shit...if you don't mind." He talks fast, and shakily, very common amongst users, and he looks desperate.
"Yeah, sure. Um, I'm Cecilia, I know a place that's open this late," I respond, and turn right at the next intersection towards the 24/7 donut shop. He follows behind, and a couple blocks later, we're there.
We spend a good hour drinking cup after cup of coffee, and split a donut. Neither of us seem to be very hungry, and I spend a lot of time listening to him talk about nothing while I observe things about him his stories don't give away.
He keeps his sleeves pulled over his hands, most likely nervous about track marks and sores, and chews on his lip when he's not talking. He has dark bags under his eyes, and mentions not having slept for a few days.
After we've spent a long time talking about nothing and staring at each other, we both run out of things to say, and I glance at his backpack, which seems packed full.
"Do you have a place to stay tonight, Curtis?" I ask softly, my mind racing and confused. I shouldn't let a junkie stay over, but he seems sweet, and I want to help him.
"I, no. But it's alright, I usually stay up in the redwoods when I can't find a place to stay," he replies, looking down. I can tell he wants a warm place to stay, but he's nervous.
"Come stay at my place for tonight, you can use my shower and do some of the laundry you have in there," I urge, pointing at his backpack. He chews on his lip, considering it, then nods.
"O..okay, thank you so much, Cecilia," he says, and pulls some crumpled dollar bills and change out of his pocket, putting it on the table and getting up. I pull a five out of my wallet and drop it on the table, gesturing for Curtis to keep his money.
We walk to my house, and I unlock the door, walking to the linen closet and pulling out a towel. I hand it to him, smiling softly, and point down the hallway towards the bathroom.
"There's the shower, and if you leave your clothes outside the door, along with whatever's dirty in your backpack, I can wash it for you," I tell him, looking at him. He runs his hand through his hair and nods, taking his stuff with him to my bathroom. A moment later, he puts a pile of clothes outside the bathroom door, smiling sheepishly.
I pick up the pile, wrinkling my nose at the faint smell of body odor and toss it into my washing machine, pouring in some soap and turning it on. I go back to my linen closet and pull out some blankets, dropping them on the couch.
I walk to my room and push the door closed, not noticing it stays open a crack, and glance at myself in the mirror. My eyeliner is smudged, and my hair is in a messy bun. I pull off my knit sweatshirt, throwing it in a corner where other dirty clothes lay in a pile. I slide off my bra and unbutton my jeans, stepping out of them and flinging them into the corner. I look at myself again, frowning softly as I stare at the scars all over my body. I take out my hair-tie, my dyed black hair falling down around my shoulders. I stand there staring at my body in the mirror for a while, wearing only panties, before I hear a soft knock at my door.
Curtis walks in before realizing I'm nearly naked, "Hey Cecilia, I'm ou- OHGOD I'M SORRY!" he mutters and quickly exits, closing the door. I blush, biting my lip as I quickly pull on an oversized shirt and pajama shorts, coming out a moment later. He's sitting on the couch in his boxers and chewing on his lip, fiddling with his hands.
"Hey Curtis, um, that wasn't your fault...I didn't close my door all the way," I say softly, looking down shyly. He looks up, and his eyes are full of apologies.
"I'm so sorry...I just wanted to thank you and let you know I was out of the bathroom..." he trails off and I decide to give him a little mercy by going to bed.
"It's okay, I'm going to go to bed, you can watch movies if you want, and I'll see you in the morning!" I say cheerfully, waving a little.
"Thanks again for letting me stay here. It's really cool of you. Goodnight," he says sheepishly, then starts working on making a bed on the couch. I go to my room, turning off the light and crawling into bed. I'm asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, and I don't dream.
I wake up, groggy and disoriented, looking over at my clock. It's 3:41 am, and my place is almost silent...almost. I hear quiet groans, and get out of bed slowly, walking down the hallway in silence, and put my hand over my mouth when I see what's making the sounds.
Curtis is quickly jerking his cock, which looks to be about seven inches or so. He's still in his boxers, his manhood sticking out of the front slit, and his head is tilted back on the couch. He mutters a soft "fuck" and cum shoots from his cock, up onto his stomach. He pants softly for a while before looking at the mess on his stomach. "Oh...fuck..." he whispers, getting up and quietly going to the kitchen to wipe it off. He throws away the paper towel and tucks his cock back into his boxers.
I scamper back to my room quietly before he sees me and shut my door, all the way this time. I get in my bed, under the covers, and lay there staring at my ceiling. I hadn't meant to intrude on his privacy, but now that I've seen it...I can't help but be a little aroused... his cock was so perfect, and I haven't seen one in so long... I slide my hand into my panties, grazing my trimmed mound with my fingertips, then slowly massage my clit, biting my lip to muffle the squeaks of pleasure.
I continue to rub my clit as my other hand moves to pinch my right nipple, picturing Curtis in the other room. My index and middle finger rub my clit faster, making me moan a bit louder, audible enough for him to hear in the next room. I rub my breasts together roughly, and I think I hear my door creak open, making me even hornier. If he's watching...
I start to get close to my orgasm, and rub my clit faster, arching my back in ecstasy, moaning a little louder, and as I hit my climax, I glance over to my door, making eye contact with Curtis, who is peeking through the door. His eyes widen but he doesn't move as I squeal, cumming hard, my juices wetting my inner thighs. I close my eyes and ride out my orgasm as I hear him close my door.
I breathe hard for a few moments before I calm down and fall asleep, this time for the rest of the night, picturing his wide eyes, full of surprise...