Two Minutes

 

"Honey, he's going to be here any minute, you really need to get going," Paul's girlfriend said.

"Any minute? I...I thought...I mean...I thought I had more time." 

"More time? Hon, it's a quarter till; I told you he'd be here by 1."

"I just...I don't know why I have to leave for the weekend," I said.

"Paul, we talked about this, I haven't seen him in almost a year, I'd like to catch up with him. Besides, it would be awkward. He's the jealous type, I don't need to throw in his face that I'm seeing someone."

"He knows, right? I mean, he knows about me, right? Like he knows you have a boyfriend."

She hesitated before answering. "I mean, he knows we're friends," she answered, evading the question.

"Like friends or boyfriend/girlfriend?"

"I don't know...like friends," she said.

"Amelia!"

"Hon, you really need to go," she said, "if he's early..."

"I was waiting till you got dressed," Paul said.

"Dressed?" she said. "I'm dressed."

"That...that's lingerie, that's not dressed," Paul said.

"Paul, we dated for three years, he's seen me naked hundreds of times when we...I mean...sorry," Amelia said. "You know, when we...were intimate."

Paul blushed, their own intimacy the source of an uneasy agreement. "It doesn't seem fair," he said, not for the first time.

"We talked about this, Paul," she said, "when we started dating, we agreed."

"I just...I mean...I don't know why I can't but other guys can."

"Paul..."

"I mean it, Amelia."

"Paul, that's different. I was honest from the beginning, I didn't...I don't want to do that with you. You agreed, in fact, you took an oath. Pussy free doesn't mean pussy sometimes or once in awhile or when you beg for it. Pussy free means pussy free."

"It's just weird, Amelia, you'll sleep with your ex-boyfriend but not your current boyfriend."

Amelia sighed, realized she was going to have to throw him a bone. "Paul, dear, just behave, it's only a few days, behave and I'll rub it with my fingers after he leaves." She held up her hand, rubbed her thumb and finger together."

"For...for how long?" Paul asked, voice shaking. It was a promise she often made, always kept, a promise to rub the tip of his erection between her thumb and finger. She rarely did it for more than sixty seconds, always stopping before he could cum but not before he passed the point of no-return, generally leaving him squirting in what he thought of as a 'ruined orgasm', squirting with little pleasure. Always, except once, when she got momentarily distracted and accidentally brought him to a real orgasm. 

She looked at him carefully, knew he needed some hope, something to tide him over while she spent the weekend with her ex. "Two minutes," she said.

Paul's eyes went wide. Two minutes? Two minutes? That was enough for him to actually cum. "Really?" he asked, afraid he hadn't heard her right.

"Yes," she held up her finger, giving him pause. "But if you squirt while I'm touching you, you're cleaning it up."

"Amelia!"

"It's your choice, Paul, you get a whole two minutes, which I assume is plenty of time for you to squirt, but if you do, you're licking it up."

Paul was already conflicted, would be so the whole weekend. Two minutes of feeling her thumb and finger on his penis, plus the chance to cum, balanced by what he'd have to do if he did. "I...I understand," he finally said.

"Then run along, love, run along and I'll see you Sunday night."