It started the first year of college.

You were single - had been for too long. I was around, available, and actually kind of cute… but we'd grown up together. Dating was impossible. But that wasn't to say that we couldn't… let off a bit of steam together.

Shockingly, we had chemistry you'd never experienced with anyone before. After overcoming the initial awkwardness - I had rather conveniently walked in on you masturbating, which while unexpected, had allowed you to skip a few steps in your plan - we settled on an arrangement and some rules.

We never tell a soul.

We don't cheat.

And we don't fall in love.

Three years on, that last one was becoming difficult for you to follow.

You'd dated casually throughout college, but none of the boys stuck. In between boyfriends (with a responsible STD panel on board) you gladly came back to rebound with me. Sometimes you knocked on my door at 2am in floods of tears after being dumped; sometimes you practically skipped over with a wide grin on your face, finally free of yet another relationship that just hadn't been working. Whatever the case, it very quickly ended with your tears and smiles alike transformed into eye-rolling, lip-biting moans as you felt your favourite cock sink deep inside you for the first time in months, as familiar and comforting as if it had never left.

It was explosive. You struggled to cum from penetration alone, but something about the gentle curvature of my lovely thick shaft just kissed that orgasm button inside of you. Combined with the fact that I was more than willing to bury my face between your legs for hours if you wanted me to, and you often found I had to carry you to the shower afterwards because your legs were quaking so tremulously. And if that turned into another session with your tits pressed against the glass while my cock ravaged your slippery pussy under the scalding hot water, so be it.

The little rules started to fall away first.

Those first three golden commandments had, over time, required some addenda to make sure we didn't cross a line. There were to be no kisses. No pet names. No flirty texts. No cuddling. Etc.

It wasn't your fault that after being fucked to the point of exhaustion, all you wanted to do was drift off to sleep in the nice, strong arms of a man who smelled like sandalwood.

It just so happened that the surest way to get me hard as a rock was to straddle my lap and make out with me, plunging your tongue into my mouth and dragging your fingers through my hair until you were short of breath.

Maybe your pussy clenched unbelievably tight when I called you a good girl. Maybe there was another name I discovered that turned you into a needy, whimpering bundle of orgqsms.

And hey, it wasn't reasonable to keep up text contact like we did without ever mentioning what we got up to the previous night… or what we had planned for the next one.

In short, boundaries were set up, crossed, and then forgotten about, time and time again. As those years wore on, I remained single and available, always present whenever you needed me. When you were dating someone, I minded my manners, kept my distance, and didn't push my luck. Part of me, naturally, hoped that you'd find yourself in a relationship that lasted. For your own sake - I knew what we had couldn't last.

Part of me knew you'd be back.

But now, college is over. The friend group we've had for so long is drifting apart, with people moving out of town, a few looking to get married or study further, one even making plans to leave the country.

And you've been single for a while. Unusually for you, you've gone two or three months without giving anyone the time of day. No first dates, no Hinge, nothing.

No, instead, you've been trying to work out the turmoil that's brewing in your heart and mind.

It feels too good. Each time you come back to me, the casual sex is a little less casual. Pretending we're just friends in front of others gets a little more difficult. What does it mean that you want to slip your arm through mine and rest your head on my shoulder at parties? Why does it bother you when Jess is flirting with me? She flirts with everyone!

Either way… you've got to make a decision soon, because after graduation, I'm off across state lines, following a promising job just far enough away to make our arrangement impossible.

So what are you going to do?

Ask me to stay? Find a job in my new city? Look for a new boyfriend to take your mind off things, then come chase me down when it inevitably doesn't work?

Ultimately I'm looking for something cute here. My character isn't hopelessly besotted with yours or anything, but nor is he totally detached. He cares for her as a close friend, and perhaps would be open to taking things further, but decided years ago not to suggest it. I sort of picture him being the more sensible and balanced of the two, while your character gets a little more flustered and impulsive. I am a big fan of ‘she fell first, he fell harder’ and similar tropes, though.

We could play out any number of the scenes hinted at above, but what I'd ultimately like to get to is the point where feelings start to become undeniable, and we've got to figure out how to cross that line when we've put so many checks in place to stop it from happening. Like, if you just blurted out an ‘I love you’ one day, it might cause me to pause and take a step back from the relationship, worrying I had caused you to break the rules.

I'd like to know a little about you/your character and how you see the dynamic between us. I've left myself a blank slate here, but generally I'm a ‘play myself but cooler’ type tbh. Let me know if there's anything you prefer to see from me too.

If you're curious about the man behind the vague prompt, my kinks and so on - or if you're on the fence about messaging me and need a push - there is a DPP profile here with all of that compiled.

Hope to hear from you,

Alex