Haunting Harlow (1*+)

My Adonis

Harlow woke to find the sun streaming in through the window, spreading a golden glow around the living room. She had dozed off on the stone-coloured, chesterfield sofa at some point during the early hours. It had been a productive night but now, she was yawning while trying to rub the sleep from her tired eyes.

“Nine bloody thirty! s**t!”

Diving off the sofa and straightening her clothes, Harlow frantically looked around the room. She still had a lot to do before the moving van got there at lunchtime. Piles of things we’re everywhere and they left no room at all for her furniture.

Drawing room! Everything can go in there until I’ve got some sort of order going on here.

The drawing room held an ornate writing desk, complete with pens and pencils of all kinds, as well as sketching paper and a few unfinished drawings. Harlow carefully collected the drawings and made her way back to the living room to place them in the portfolio case she had found the previous night.

“One last look won’t hurt. He’s just too damn fine to not look at” she told the portfolio as she thumbed through the work, looking for the nude sketch she had found.

She had decided against keeping it for herself. It wasn’t hers to keep, no matter how much she wanted too. She had, instead, decided that if she found who it belonged too, she would offer to buy it.

It wasn’t there.

Confused, she looked through again but to no avail.

“Where the hell did you go? I swear I put you back where you belonged.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Harlow placed the portfolio on a pile of books and made her way back to the drawing-room across the hallway. Stopping at the door, just after she had entered the drawing-room, she rubbed her eyes. Her mouth was agape as she stared, bewildering, at the writing desk that she had just cleared. On top of it sat an open photo album and also, the nude drawing of the unknown hunk.

“What the? How did you get there?”

The photo album was lying open, showing a dark-haired, dark-eyed man, with a strong jaw and neat goatee. He was wearing a tight black tee-shirt and stonewashed jeans and was leaning against a black Harley-Davidson motorcycle, which sat outside what looked to be, her new house. A little strip of card, glued underneath the photograph, read ‘Caleb. Summer, 2019’.

Looking at the man, Caleb, in the photograph again, Harlow realized he looked an awful lot like the model in the sketch that she had grown to love.

“It IS you” she exclaimed, comparing the photograph and the sketch.

“So, you’re Caleb, are you? Well, Caleb. Let’s get you and your rather attractive manhood back into that portfolio case, shall we? Then I can get back to clearing this lot up and get some organisation before my stuff gets here.”

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It was almost midnight and Harlow had just sat down with her third, somewhat chilled bottle of wine. After unloading the removal van, she had gotten straight to work on the living room and had unpacked her boxes, then reused those boxes to store the things belonging to the previous occupier, and then got her furniture arranged. She had given up trying to store the portfolio, photo album, and the sketch, which she had taken to calling ‘My Adonis'. Every time she had put them away, they had somehow ended up back out and placed with Caleb's photo and My Adonis, lying in plain view of Harlow. At one point, My Adonis had ended up as a focal point on the marble fireplace and that was where he currently was.

Harlow could feel his eyes watching her and every time she looked at the sketch, she couldn’t help lower her hazel eyes to take him in completely. It was almost as though he was there, in the room, with her.

“Well, I guess you are here, in a way, just not in person. What I wouldn’t give to have you here in person,” she giggled at the sketch then leaned to pick up the photograph of Caleb, which was lying on the coffee table in front of her.

“You really are a very, very attractive guy, Caleb, and one day, I’m going to find you,” she told the photograph before taking a long swig of wine, straight from the bottle.

She was already feeling the effects of her drink but a glug of wine followed after the other, then even more long swigs of her sweet but crisp bottle, followed by a slow, tingle down the side of her neck. It reminded Harlow of lips making a trail of kisses and a slight moan escaped her lips, for a brief second, before she shook her head and looked at her almost empty, bottle of wine.

“Think I’ve had more than enough of you,” she told the empty bottle as she placed it on the table after she had drained the last few mouthfuls of wine.

Her neck tingled again but this time, the opposite side, and she instinctively arched her neck to offer more skin. She knew she was imagining it, fantasizing Caleb being there, but she didn’t care. Harlow imagined his lips making slow, sensual trails down her throat, sending tingles and shock waves through her, as she bit her lower lip. Her tingling skin, igniting her body like a flame to a gas stove, caused a small moan to escape her throat and she squirmed.

She trailed a finger over her tee-shirt and found her erect n****e. Another moan escaped her mouth as her n****e tingled and she squeezed, harder. Her other n****e suddenly sprang to life with a sensual tingle and Harlow inhaled, sharply. Her hips writhed and her c******s throbbed, begging to be touched as her body ached with desire. She had never worked herself up so easily or so quickly and could only wonder what actual s*x with Caleb would be like.

She imagined her toned and beautiful hunk, taking her n****e in his mouth while teasing her love bud. She hitched up her skirt and teased her throbbing bud in the same way that she imagined Caleb would. Slow, methodical, sensual strokes. Her labia tingled and after moving her underwear to the side, she inserted two fingers inside herself.

Rocking her hips against the sofa cushion, she groaned as her fingers worked in and out of her.

She wanted more.

She wanted him.

Another tingle as her fingers and hips worked faster, this time on her already hot and wet bud. It was all she needed and with an “Oh, god,” Harlow grabbed a cushion and covered her face to quieten the orgasm that was erupting from her.

She lay there on the sofa, her fingers covered in her juice, trying to catch her breath. Never before had she come so intensely or so quickly especially when pleasuring herself and she was left wanting more.

“One day, I'm going to have you do that to me in person,” she told her fantasy.