A month or so had gone by since our first night together. In that time, Alex and I had sex at least twice a week, but otherwise our relationship was casual, more like a FWB situation than anything. I took her to breakfast a few times, basking in her “I came 4 times last night, and twice more an hour ago” glow as we sat across from each other savoring chocolate chip pancakes or french toast at her favorite diner.
I hadn’t gotten bored of seeing her writhe under my mouth or feel her hands on my chest when she sat on my face, grinding on my tongue. I had a feeling she wasn’t bored of me either; even when we passed each other between classes she flashed a cheeky grin and stuck her tongue out at me. Most of our housemates had to have known based on the sounds that must have come from her bedroom, and one gave me a two-thumbs up one morning as I stumbled out of her room on the way to the bathroom wearing only my boxers and a smattering of hickeys from my collar bone to my navel.