No longer having an appetite, I shove my leftovers in the fridge, and when Savanna is safely at her next class, I squeeze in an intense workout and a quick shower. I’m hooking the towel around my waist when a text comes in. I see my Uncle Vitaly’s name pop up on my screen.
UNCLE VITALY:
Don’t ask questions, Niki, but I need you to delete the footage from the elevator security camera. I highly recommend you don’t watch it.
I groan and send him a text.
ME:
Remind me to show you how to do this yourself.
UNCLE VITALY:
We both know I’ll just forget. This way is easier.
ME:
For you. It’s traumatic as hell for me.
UNCLE VITALY:
Only if you watch the footage. Don’t get nosy.
ME:
You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll erase it. Again.
UNCLE VITALY:
Thanks, Niki. Don’t forget about supper at our place this weekend. Bring Savanna.
I shouldn’t be surprised, I really shouldn’t be, but I am. If there’s any gossip to be had, my uncle will find it.
ME:
We’re not dating.
UNCLE VITALY:
That’s what you say, but I bet you anything your aunt and I will be getting a wedding invitation in a month or two. Bring her to supper. She’s a sweet girl.
ME:
I’m going to go erase the footage and pretend it’s not what I think it is.
UNCLE VITALY:
Probably for the best. See you both this weekend.
I ignore the assumption that I’ll be bringing Savanna and instead wipe the footage. It’s not the first time he’s asked me, and I know it won’t be the last. The worst part is that he’s not the only uncle to ask me. Thankfully my own dad knows enough to wipe it himself, but I’ve been put in charge of everyone’s security, so I’m left erasing everyone’s quickie footage. I swear no one in this family can keep it in their pants, and I’m too busy being jealous to get pissed about it. I’d give just about anything to be able to sink inside Savanna while we race against the clock.
The mere thought of it is enough to have me tenting the towel I’m still wearing, and to make the situation even more unbearable, I look over in just enough time to see her walking out of class. Her long, blonde hair blows in the soft breeze, and I can easily imagine fisting the soft strands while I kiss my way up her delicate neck, sucking the soft skin while I feel her whimpers vibrate against my lips.
Sitting, I part the towel and fist my cock. I tell myself that I’m not crossing the line. I didn’t put a secret camera in her room, and I’m not jerking off to her while she’s naked and unaware. She’s fully clothed for fuck’s sake, and it’s still more than enough to get me off. Not even the blurriness of the image stops my appreciation of the view. I don’t focus on her tits and ass, although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love them both. When I start to stroke my cock faster, I’m looking at the way she hooks her hair behind her ear and then brings her hand down to touch my old messenger bag, like she wants the reassurance that it’s still there.
Pre-cum coats my length while I work myself faster, watching her walk down the sidewalk. Every few feet, she touches that bag again, and I groan while I imagine those same fingers stroking me. The thing that pushes me over the edge, though, is knowing that every time her fingers touch that leather, she’s thinking about me. Knowing I’m on her mind is what tips the scales. I have just enough time to use my other hand to close the towel again before I’m groaning Van’s name as my body tenses and I come hard. I pulse in my hand while my eyes stay locked on her.
“Holy fuck,” I groan when I’m finally empty. I lazily stroke my softening cock as she heads back to her sorority house. “Look what you’ve done to me, Van. You’ve completely ruined me, sweetheart.”
