EroticReverie

Bella

God I fucked up. I fucked up so bad last night. 

When I first met Walker. I’d had a crush. He was tall, handsome, funny, smart, easy to talk to and I’d instantly felt a bond with him. It didn’t take long for me to push notions of more than friendship aside though. When he started dating someone soon after we met and had made no advances towards me at all prior, I’d realized my little crush was one sided and shut that shit down. 

We became instant friends , did so much together, spent time with one another like I would with my girlfriends. I loved our friendship. Which was another reason it was easy for me to ignore any possible “romantic” or “I’d like to ride that” feelings I may have started to have for him at the start. I didn’t want to ruin something as good as our friendship by chancing exploring something more. I also didn’t want to get rejected and make it awkward if he didn’t have the same thoughts about me. 

He’s been there for me through everything these past five years, and honestly, I wouldn’t tell any of my girl friends this, but he’s blows them out of the water when it comes to being a good friend. If I need him, for anything, he drops everything. Just like I do for him. He’s wiped tears from face through breakups and dealing with assholes. Listened to me vent about family problems. Texts me out of the blue just to see how I’m doing everyday, that’s if I don’t text him for the same thing first. I’ve gone from romantic feelings, to friendship to feeling like he’s family. 

I won’t lie and say my mind doesn’t often keep me up at night with the “what if” of it all, but I’d never do anything to jeopardize our friendship. 

Up until last night anyways. We’ve shared a bed countless times, only when we’re not dating someone. Nothing ever happens. It’s innocent. But I definitely would not want a boyfriend sharing his bed with another girl. So clearly we draw lines in our friendship out of respect for our partners. But when we’re single, we have sleepovers, we cuddle and spoon and I get my coveted forehead kisses and kisses in my hair. And they do fuck with me sometimes, because I know it’s just him being him , and us just being us with our apparently unconventional male and female friendship. But again, I always shut down the little feelings that sometimes worm their way back inside my head. 

And now, now I had to go to his place , and face the music of what I’d done last night. Put his hand on breast, and grinded my ass into his hard cock purposefully with ALL the intention of doing more. A lot more.

But of course, my respectable, stand up best friend wouldn’t let his drunk best friend cross a line with him. What if I hadn’t been drunk? Would he have? If I hadn’t been drunk I’d probably never have made him grope me or pushed my ass into his lap like a wanton slut. So the what ifs , the what would we he haves done ? It doesn’t matter. But, he seemed…like he wanted more? He wasn’t drunk. So now, I’ve got a million questions that I don’t know whether or not I want the answers to them. Or what I’d do if the answers led us to a possible position of both of us…wanting to do it again. Because then we’d have to make a choice. 

My palms are fucking sweating and my nerves are making me shiver and shake. I shake out my arms and my toss my head side to side to clear out my anxious feelings. And paste on my most neutral face and take a deep breath and knock on his front door. 

When he doesn’t answer. I knock again. 

I hold my breath as I hear the door knob turn and then lift my eyes the few inches to find his. 

“Why the hell are you knocking?” He asks with a half scowl half frown. 

“Oh, I uh, don’t know?” I say. Because why HAD I knocked? I never knock. I let myself in because his house is my house according to him. And my apartment is his apartment according to me. We stopped knocking in each others doors only a few months into our friendship.  

he lifts his watch and looks down and scowls. 

“AND you’re one time, what the fuck?” He growls but it’s not a real one and I give a small smile. 

“New and improved me. It’s part of my New Year’s resolution” I say. 

“It’s September.” He says and I roll my eyes. 

“I said new and improved, not perfect, my procrastination is on the list for NEXT year, now let me in.” I say and bat his chest with the back of my hand and push my way in.

“I brought beer.” I say as I walk in with the six pack of his “favorite” beer. Which is ironically the cheapest fucking shit there is. So I don’t know why he orders the fancy stuff at bars. 

“Thank you.” He says and shuts his front door and then follows me into his kitchen. His house is small and comfy. Definitely decorated like a man’s place with minimum furniture, no art or pictures on the walls and the most boring curtains you can find. But, I love it anyways. This is my second home and my favorite place to be.  

He has a living room right when you walk in the door, then the kitchen ahead of that. With a small hall and two bedrooms off that hall. 

As always his dog Sampson , who is partially deaf now, eventually hears me and his paws and nails clack on the hardwood as he finds me and …yep.

Walker chuckles as Sampson gives me his official greeting by shoving his snout right in my crotch.  

“Okay Sampson” I say and gently push his snout away and let him lick my hand. 

“Red rocket has launched.” Walker says and I scrunch my nose and make a sound of disgust. 

“Sampson it’s not gentlemanly to pop your dick out everytime you see a woman” I scold him. 

“He literally only does that with YOU.” Walker reminds me. 

“Great. I’m only capable of turning on a dog. I’m destined to be forced into a life of beastiality with Sampson.” I say and Walker huffs a small laugh. 

“Want me to leave you two alone?” He asks and I roll my eyes. And lift my hand and give him the finger. 

“Is my lunch ready?” I ask. 

“No. Because I truly thought you wouldn’t be on time.” He says and I pat Sampsons head as he waggles his ass and pants and keeps nudging my hand with his head for my pets. 

“Well I’m not really hungry right now. So you’re lucky.” I say. “You know how I get when I’m not properly fed” 

“Yes. Yes I do.” He says and then he walks over while I slide the six pack into his fridge and he’s right there as I turn on. I jump back. 

“Oh.” I say and he frowns. 

“Why are you acting weird?” He asks. 

“I’m not. I’m perfectly normal.” I say and he cocks his brow. 

“Making the bed. Being on time. Knocking on my door. Jumping away from me.” He says, listening my definitely,  not normal,  offenses. 

“You just startled me. That’s all.” I say with a shrug. 

He lifts his hands to my face and my head tears back and he frowns again. 

“Quit it.” He says. 

“Shut up I’m not doing anything” I say as his hands grab my face and pull it forward and tips my head down and presses a kiss to the top of my head. My eyes close and my stomach flutters and fuck. Shut. It. Down. I tell myself. 

“You ever make my bed again, ever show up on time, ever knock on my fucking door, or flinch away from me, I’m going to take offense.” He says. 

I open my eyes and lift my chin and look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” I say and his eyes mimic the way my brows dip and my the way my eyes turn to apology. 

“I’m kidding Bella” he says. 

“No, I’m sorry for…last night.” I say and he exhales slowly. His hands still on my face , his thumbs stroking my cheeks in the calming way he does when I’m stressed about something or feeling sad. 

“It was really shitty. I was drunk and that’s no excuse, I crossed a line , friends don’t do that. And I’m sorry.” I say and he gently lifts my chin a bit more. 

“Is that why you’re acting weird?” He asks. And I want to protest and argue that I’m not being weird. But I am. 

I shrug. “Yeah.” 

“We’re still best friends. Last night doesn’t change that.  Okay? And you don’t have to apologize for it. Because I’m just as guilty. So I’m sorry too.” He says and I look at him. 

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the floozy who acted like your bed was a brothel and made you touch my boob and rubbed on your…prong….like a cat in heat.” I say and his lips curve upward and he laughs softly. 

He pulls my face again and angles it down and kisses my hair ontop of my head again. 

“I’ll never complain about a handful of boob.” He says and I huff a laugh and smack his chest and laugh slightly and look back up at him. 

“You sure you don’t hate me? I didn’t mean to-“

“I could never hate you.” He says and I exhale. 

“Youre sure tho? You’re not just lying to me because I’m prone to tears and hate when people are mad at me?” I ask and he smiles. 

“I’m sure. Very sure. It was probably bound to happen at some point right? One of us, or in our case, both of us toying with the idea of it?” He says and I shrug. 

“Should we talk about it more?” He asks. 

“I…why would we? It was a mistake.” I say and he just looks at me. His hands still on my face. Grounding me. 

“You don’t have any questions for me?” He asks and my brows pinch. Yes. A million. I shake my head. 

“No” I say. “Do you um, have any for me?” 

He looks at my mouth. Then his eyes look back at mine and I hold my breath. 

“No. I guess not” he says softly and whyyyyy does it feel like this? Why do I think he’s lying? Maybe because I am. 

“You sure?” I ask and smiles softly and cocks his head. 

“Are YOU?” He asks and I nod. 

“Then okay. No questions.” He says. 

——-

I help him with dinner, and we’re pretty much our normal selves. Watching tv while making side commentary and laughing at the sitcom we watch. 

But there’s still, the weirdness. At least with me. 

“Sit the fuck down peanut” he says as I start to grab our plates and get up. 

“You don’t clean.” He says and takes the plates. 

“Yes I do!” I argue. 

“Bella, you’ve never cleaned a plate in my house” he says and I roll my eyes. 

“Be right back” he says and I nod as he takes our plates to the kitchen and I sit there. Pulling my feet up to the couch and resting my chin in my knees as I listen to him rinse the dishes and start the dishwasher and he comes back in and hands me a capri sun with a beer In his other hand. 

“You didn’t have any this morning. Where are you hiding them?” I accuse him as I take the little pouch and unwrap the straw and stab it through the tiny hole. 

“I’ll never tell.” He says.

“Rude” I say and then take a sip as he sits back down and pops open the can of beer and leans back and spreads his arm over the back of the couch. When I don’t move into the crook of his arm. I can feel his eyes on me. Scowling. 

I hear and see out of the corner of my eye his hand lift and pat the back of the couch as he clears his throat with an “ahem”.

I turn my head to look at me. He lifts his shoulder up and down a few times. 

“What?” I ask.

“You know what. Quit fucking around and get over here.” He says and fight my bigger smile for a small one with a little bite of my lip and then slip my legs down one way and my back to him as I push myself up against side and and let my head on his shoulder as we watch the tv that he perfectly angled for me to sit just like this and watch at the same time. A year after being friends I’d noticed he moved it and asked why. “So you can watch it better without hurting your neck” he’d said simply. Because this was how we sat. Everytime. 

A kiss lands in the side of my head and then another. 

“Any plans for today?” He asks after we sit comfortably for awhile continue my to watch the show and I suck down the rest of my capri sun. 

I shake my head. 

“Wanna go for a hike?” He asks and I groan and he chuckles. 

“I’ll take you to the duck pond after.” He says and roll my eyes. 

“Can’t we ever JUST Go to the duck pond?” I ask and he laughs softly. 

“No.” He says and I grumble. 

This was his way of convincing me to go hiking with him. In exchange for my torture of bugs and panting like a fucking animal for an hour, he rewarded me with taking me to duck pond about an hour from here near his favorite trail. 

“You enjoy torturing me. I’m convinced you just like to make me sweat.” I say and he hums. 

“I really do.” He says but it sounds…different and suggestive and I ignore it. 

“I’m not doing the bad trail” I say. 

“There is no bad trail.” He says and I sit up and swing my legs over his leg as I face him. 

“YES. there is” I glare at him and he grins. 

He once took me on the harder trail that was up and down. Mostly fucking up and THREE miles long.

“Youre a fucking sadist”I hiss and he laughs. 

“Okay. We’ll do the baby trail. For the little baby peanut and her weak little baby legs” he says and his hand grabs my thigh and shakes it teasingly. I ignore the shot of heat that hits me low in my stomach as he puts his hand on my thigh. Because he doesn’t take it away. But why would he? We were normally touchy like this. So. Many. Questions. And the time has passed to ask them. If I bring it up again it’ll just look like I can’t stop thinking about last night. And what if he’s already forgotten it? It’ll show too many cards if I ask him anything about it, or act like him just casually resting his hand on my leg isn’t normal. 

“There better be ten hundred ducks there today.” I say with narrowed eyes. 

“What if there’s a few less?” he asks with amusement. 

I draw my finger over neck in cut your throat gesture and he grins with amusement. 

“You wouldn’t do that to me.” He says. 

“Let’s not find out. Shall we?” I tease and he smiles , his hand shifts slightly. Up my thigh. It’s the barest movement but it sends another shot right to my stomach and this time, hits even lower, right between my fucking legs. Shit.