I ration my visits into Nicole’s house. I let myself go in there to use her bathroom and only pause in the kitchen to get warm for five minutes. Anything past that, and I start fantasizing about her. The sight of her running shoes by the back door gets me hard.
Her briefcase propped against the end table by the front door gets me hard.
Every single thing in this house either reminds me of her smart-ass mouth or her incredible competence at everything apart from running. The other day, I was inside and overheard her completely dismantle a reporter over the phone. There I was, mid-piss, watching my d**k spring to life at the thought of her yelling.
Today I’m meeting our property lawyer, Justin, at the house. I stop by the hardware store to buy a few sets of shoe covers. Ordinarily, we’
