Hungry for Love

erotica ebooks by Nathaniel Feldmann

Hungry for Love

erotica ebooks by Nathaniel Feldmann
erotica ebooks by Nathaniel Feldmann

Hungry for Love

Hungry for Love: Lunch is the continuation of a romantic piece of erotica that balances coquettish writing with heart-wrenching vulnerability.

After breakfast in bed, Andy said goodbye with a kiss. I fell asleep with a smile, bathed in the sun, not a care in the world, southern comforts on my tongue. I woke to a text from Andy;

I had an amazing time with you. Ketchup and all 😛

We texted loosely back and forth for nearly a week. Nothing too personal, a game I knowingly played, always reminding myself not to come off too needy, too hungry. Even if I didn’t know what Andy was thinking, I still wanted to look good, like I had my shit together, my own life going on, but maybe I just looked like a fuckboy.

It’s not like I ghosted him. I’d hold back with the good mornings and good nights and limit myself to maybe a family friendly selfie or a snap of a tasty dish I concocted (he responded “boyfriend goals” to my Coq au vin). Maybe a little flirty text here and there, but neither of us dove into conversation.

I had the intention to ask him out again.

Second dates weren’t really in my vocabulary. Except once or twice before and each time I realized we didn’t share much in common besides the obvious physical attraction. We ended up in bed, not talking, and ultimately never to see each other again, except on a hookup app, willfully ignoring one another.

I hoped it’d be different this time around.

Andy – No Dumplings – Thursday 7:34PM
can you get out of work tomorrow?

What do you have in mind?

Coney Island. the two of us.

I’ll make it happen <3

I had the urge to send a dick pic in response, like giving him a glimpse of my body fresh out of the shower, the lens slightly fogged over, the light cool would make it all the more tempting to see me. Most of all, I wanted to stoke the fire, but he wasn’t like all the other guys who needed a reminder of chemistry. I didn’t want us to get together just for sex anyways, so I kept my chub in my pants.

Friday morning. We agreed to meet on the Carroll St. platform at 10am, or somewhere around then. I was the first to arrive, 30 minutes early to be exact, afraid that the always-unreliable G train would arrive too late and we’d miss one another. I didn’t want Andy to think I was flaking out.

I brought bagels; his toasted and mine not, both stuffed with cream cheese gushing over the sides. I also got him an iced coffee sweetened with too much sugar and enough milk that it was almost white like liquefied ice cream, something similar to the sweet tea he said he loved. I took mine black.

Almost 10, and a train hadn’t passed through the station in twenty minutes, so one was gearing to arrive, full to the brim with angry commuters, and hopefully Andy. I sat on a worn wooden bench in my red trunks and tank top, looking like I was heading for the beach, ready to catch some sun, staring down at the brown bag, my mouth watering in anticipation.

It was going to be a hot day. The underground damp was a welcomed reprieve from the suffocating humidity heating the streets overhead. The sun barely broke through the heavy smog that encased the city in a yellowish-brown cloud, but I expected on the shore we’d see blue skies and calm waters as crystal clear as Andy’s eyes.

I couldn’t wait to dive in again.

10:06. The train finally pulled into the station. Andy walked through those sliding doors and down the platform, his crooked smile framed by two oversized headphones, his curls bouncing. I wanted to hide just to watch him longer. His heart was so full of joy and life. Plus, his legs stunned in mid-thigh high pink trunks that hugged his dick just right, I could hardly wait to pull it out again.

I reminded myself to slow it down, to enjoy the day; it was just the second date.

I raised my hand and it was like he wanted to run towards me, his eyes sparkling and cool. He was fresh and ready, his backpack heavy on his back, his camera around his shoulder, swinging with every step. As much as I wanted to kiss him on the platform I couldn’t shake the feeling like a cloud hung over. I needed to pretend like we hadn’t already seen each other naked, a little secret we both shared, but this was just another game I played to hold back, to not show him too much.

After a long week of thinking about him non-stop, hoping for a perfect day on the beach, I gave him my hand for a shake. Real cool, right?

“Come on, give me a hug!” he said, wrapping his arms around me, and kissing me on the cheek. “I hope you packed towels. None of mine were clean.”

I wrapped my hands around his narrow waist, my dick already getting hard: an immediate reaction to our bodies touching after a week of compulsive masturbat…

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