Another New York Story: Michael Pt. 01

This is the first chapter of the second novella in a trilogy. Check out Mel's perspective on my page!

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Lying on his back in the empty bed, staring up at the ceiling, Michael couldn't seem to  bring himself to start his day. The stagnant, heavy air of Asuka's windowless room made him feel lazy. Silver beads of sweat collected at his brow, wiped away with the back of a hand. Sure, he could turn on the A. C. unit in the living room and leave the door cracked, but he was only in his boxers, and his dick was half hard--the thin cotton fabric barely able to contain his swelling bulge. If he went out now, Asuka's roommate might walk in on him. What was her name? Mel. What would happen then?  

A good question. His dick twitched at the thought.  

Quit that. Michael promised himself after Asuka offered to take him in that he wouldn't do anything to rock the boat this time around. He'd learned his lesson, and knew how rare second chances were. Plus, the thought of having to couch surf again--hopping from apartment to apartment, bunking with friends and acquaintances who only took him in out of obligation and pity--made Michael shudder. Asuka had given him a fresh start, he was determined not to mess it up.  

Mel was testing him, though, he had to admit. She was totally his type: petite, but curvy, with these gorgeous tits, firm and perky. The other day, he'd caught a glimpse of her getting out of the shower in only a towel--her bare feet, milky, smooth legs, and silky brown hair that reached down past her lightly freckled shoulders had set something off inside Michael. He couldn't seem to get her out of his head.  

She was completely unlike Asuka, who with her short black hair, sharp features, thin, long body, and flat chest looked almost boyish at times, depending on what she wore. Asuka was athletic, lithe, while Mel was small and sweet.  

Reaching down, Michael slipped a hand under the elastic waistband of his underwear, touching his cock lazily, feeling it swell to its full size. The image of Mel's white body flashed in his mind. He'd jerked off to the thought of her three times already since the incident, and was considering a fourth. Asuka was attractive in her own way--Michael didn't doubt that--and the sex was great, but if he had to choose between the two of them, he thought he would probably have to go with Mel, that is, from a purely sexual standpoint. Michael wondered what it felt like to grab her breasts, squeeze them, feeling their fullness, with her pink little nipples poking out into the palm of his hand. He wondered what it was like to smack her ass, watch it jiggle.  

Michael sighed. He had to remind himself that it had been Asuka, not Mel, who approached him in that bar a few weeks back; it was she who had given him a place to stay, and a bed to sleep in. All he had to do now was try to keep it in his pants.  

He had a pretty good rhythm going now, stroking his cock with a master's touch. Better to cum now, uncloud his mind for the day, in case his horniness made him do something he would come to regret. Closing his eyes, he pictured Asuka like she'd been the night before: lying on her back, her head hanging off one end of the bed, with him crouched over her, the full length of his cock shoved down her throat, fucking her hard, thrusting like he was in her pussy and not her mouth. It was her special talent, deepthroating--something she could do better than anyone Michael had ever been with. Apparently she lacked a gag reflex, something she waited until last night to tell him, which she proved by making him shove his dick into her mouth until her teeth touched his pelvis. To him, it looked like it hurt. But, Asuka reassured him, after he extracted himself so she could catch her breath, that she liked it, even though he could see she had tears in the corners of her eyes, and her mascara was smudged.  

From his position standing over her, Michael couldn't see Asuka's face, but he could feel his balls slapping lightly against it with each stroke. The full wetness of her throat was like nothing he had ever experienced before. In terms of dick length, Michael was well above average, with some girth to boot. On a good day he hit eight inches, and never before had he been able to fuck a girl's pussy as deeply has he was fucking Asuka's throat. He felt her squeeze one of his ass cheeks and give it a slap. A good sign.

Without breaking form, Michael reached down with a hand and pinched one of Asuka's brown little nipples, feeling it harden between his thumb and forefinger, before she swiped at him, to show him she didn't want him to do that. He pulled his hand back, admiring her thin, pale frame, and the beating it was taking. Would she swallow? He'd basically be shooting his load straight into her stomach in this position. It was gonna happen soon. Very soon.  

Michael tried to breathe. It felt too good, he wanted to keep going, maybe switch to her pussy to cum in her there, since he liked so much to watch the jizz drip out of her onto the bed sheets. But, he couldn't seem to stop himself, no matter how hard he tried.

"I'm gonna cum," Michael moaned.  

Asuka let him know she heard him by giving him an especially hard spank, which actually timed up perfectly to Michael's orgasm, so that it was almost like Asuka had punched a button and set him off.  

He could feel as his load shot deep down into her throat, seeing her neck muscles gulp it down hungrily into her belly. When she sat back up, her face was red from the blood rushing to it, and from choking on his cock. But, she was smiling, something rare for her.  

Back in the room, the heat seemed to be increasing along with Michael's excitement, as if each flick of the wrist turned up the thermostat a tick at a time.   

Now, Michael tried to picture Mel, imagining what her body looked like under her towel, splicing together all the bits and scraps of his memory of her from the last two weeks since he'd met her to create a single clear picture of her: bright and shining and beckoning him with a finger.   

Suddenly, Asuka intruded into his thoughts, overshadowing his imagined image of Mel, until all he could think of was her face staring up at him blankly like she did so often. It was only a small relief that she, this image in his mind, still had the presence of mind to appear in the nude.  

The problem was Michael couldn't really get a good read on how Asuka felt about him. She seemed to like him well enough, never complaining about his presence outright, but she was very particular, and vocal when Michael fell short of her high expectations. They had been cohabitating for only a couple of weeks, and already he'd been chewed out for not picking up his dirty laundry off the floor, and for leaving the toilet seat up, among other things. Michael couldn't tell whether his stock was rising or falling, Asuka was tough to read.  

However, Michael knew that her hard outer shell was nothing more than a defense mechanism, a way to cope with life's harsh realities. Inside she was all gushy, Michael could see that. When she fell asleep curled in his arm, she looked so innocent and vulnerable, and would let out little whimpers every now and again, grabbing at his shirt in her sleep, something to hold onto. All Michael had to do was navigate the proverbial minefield, maybe find a job, start pulling his weight around the apartment, stay as far away from Mel as possible, and Asuka would let him stay. Simple enough.

But, then again, he wasn't even sure what they were to each other. Was Asuka his girlfriend? The thought intrigued him. Sure, he liked her well enough, even if he didn't understand her yet--she was independent, and always got what she wanted, both qualities Michael was trying to instill in himself. All things considered, Michael had to admit he admired Asuka.

His dick went limp. He'd lost the thread. The room was way too hot, it was distracting him. Why were there no windows? And where was Asuka's roommate? Why didn't she get up and turn on the A. C.? At least she had a bit of a breeze in her room, Michael knew, having seen the window above her bed once when he took a look into her room after she'd left the door open a crack. Even though it looked out onto a brick wall, it must provide some relief.  

All of a sudden, Michael stood, fishing out his wrinkled white t-shirt from under the covers, throwing it on. He stepped out into the living room, little more than an open space with a kitchenette against the far wall, a hallway leading to the front door where Mel's room was, and a couch, coffee table, and television serving as the living area. To his left were two windows--one with an A. C. unit--looking out onto a courtyard.  

Empty. That was normal. Michael hadn't heard anyone moving around, and it was Tuesday, which meant Asuka would be on her morning run, right?

The A. C. kicked into life, and the cool air provided Michael with immediate relief. He stood there for a moment, feeling the coldness on his crotch as the air infiltrated into his loose boxers and tickled his dick. He felt it twitch again.  

Did Asuka go on a morning run every Tuesday? Or, was that Wednesdays? Her life was so regimented, Michael had been trying his best, but he'd yet to fully grasp her schedule. At the restaurant where she worked, she had a set schedule, and her off days were spent in perpetual motion, bouncing from one activity to the next, whether that was going on a run, or walking to the coffee shop to read her book, or taking a nap at a specific, predesignated time, Asuka never strayed from her daily rituals.  

Of course, she would still make time for Michael. They had a favorite boba spot in the neighborhood, and she would always pay, and never complained about it. Asuka seemed to like the fact that Michael had to rely on her so much. Actually, that was something Michael was used to, he had a history of dating women who liked to be in control, who liked to take care of everything. Sometimes, Michael felt like he was the girl in the relationship--in the traditional sense, where the expectation is for them to be small, and quiet, and wait all day at home for their spouse to return, ready with a kiss on the cheek, and a martini in hand, like he'd seen on those old sitcoms.  

The cold air had made Michael's dick swell again to about half its size, and he noticed that it was pressing against his boxers again, leaving a visible impression. Breathing out, he tried to calm himself. Michael wondered if Mel was home, or if maybe he hadn't heard her leave. No sound was coming from her room, but he couldn't be sure. He had to distract himself somehow, snap himself out of his horniness. If Asuka was on a run, that meant she'd want breakfast after she got back and showered, right? Maybe that's what he'll do, he'll make her some breakfast, to show how much he appreciates her. After all, breakfast was Michael's specialty. It had been how he'd paid the rent at his last semi-permanent place of residence, before his stint as a couch surfer.  

As he set about making some pancakes, Michael's mind wandered back to that time, to when he was still working as a busser at that stuffy restaurant in the Upper East Side--and to Carol, who took him in and opened his eyes to the finer things in life. He thought about her full, womanly body, and how her gold jewelry would clink together as they made love.