Once more

Not ready to give up just yet, Ethan rings the door one more time.

A few seconds pass and Ethan slumps his shoulders. Nothing.

Just as he’s about to turn away a faint sound from the other side of the door hits his ears. A sound that gets stronger by the second. Squaring himself up with the door, Ethan listens to the sound as it gets close, the rhythmic padding now just on the other side of the wooden barrier.

A lock clicks, the door opens, and Ethan comes face to face with a familiar, yet slightly ruffled woman.

…Until his eyes glance down, quickly noticing the attire of the slightly disheveled woman is not the same as earlier. Even though the glance only lasts a second, an image is burned into Ethan’s brain. She’s wearing almost nothing, just a too small housecoat haphazardly closed, her massive chest threatening to spill out. Down lower, the loose robe comes down to barely mid-thigh, exposing quite a bit of shapely leg.

Ethan snaps his gaze back up. Obviously, Layla is going to notice she was just being checked out.

Layla ruffles her hair, blinking a few times. She looks like she just woke up. Maybe, Ethan hopes, she didn't notice, as she hasn't even seemed to register Ethan in the doorway.

“Hell- Oh! Ethan,” she locks eyes with you, her blue orbs coming to life. “What’re you doing here, sweetie?”

The way she said the word ‘sweetie’ makes Ethan’s throat dry. Shifting slightly, Ethan presents the pan. “I, uh, was just bringing this back…” Ethan pauses, trying to keep his eyes on either the pan or Layla’s face. “Thank you again. I was very deli- Uh, amazing. It was amazing.”

Layla drops her eyes to the pan, her mouth twisting into an odd expression. “Oh my, you ate it all so fast…” Lifting her gaze, her plush lips curling into a coy smile. “Guess I’ll have to make you another.”

Ethan starts to say something, but only a throaty sound comes out. Awkwardly, arm stretched out holding the empty pan, Ethan tries to pull himself together. “That would be great. I’ll eat any pie you put in front of me”.

Immediately Ethan cringes, severe self-inflicted psychic damage. Did he really just say that?

Layla giggles softly. If she was offended by Ethan’s words, or even realized what he said, she doesn't show it. Instead, she reaches out for the pan, her fingers brushing against Ethans. “Glad to hear it…”

Ethan quivers slightly, almost dropping the pan, the grazing touch and words throwing him for a loop. Lucky, he holds on enough to pass over the pan, Layla pulling it in and holding it in front of her. Pivoting, Ethan tries to get away from pie talk, focusing instead on the only other thing he can think about. “Sorry. Did I, uh, wake you?”

“Hm?” Layla’s smile breaks, raising a brow, her confusion clear on her face. “No, I was…” she shifts slightly, the subtle movement tugging on her loose robe, exposing a bit more of her heavy chest. “Just laying down. Not napping exactly, but just relaxing. No need to apologize. I did ask you to bring it back when you were done. I just didn't expect you to be done quite so fast.”

“Ah,” Ethan struggles to keep his eyes up. “Right. Well, that’s understandable.” Ethan really tries to keep his eyes up. “Uh, yeah.”

“Ethan, is everything alright?” Layla's face changes again, radiating genuine concern.

“Me? I’m good. Just a little…” Ethan REALLY tries to keep his eyes up. “Tired I guess. I ate a lot of pie.”

Layla frowns, taking a big step closer. “You don’t seem yourself.”

Ethan blinks. Layla’s shift forward caused a significant shift, the wobble of her chest impossible to miss. Taking a sharp breath, Ethan throws his all into collecting himself. “Ah, yeah. It’s just been a long day, you know, what with all of the chores and cleaning…” Layla is close, so close. Heelless now, Ethan is more or less eye level with the statuesque woman, and he ponders vaguely that she might just be taller than him still. Or at least he tries to ponder it, as getting his mind off her massive mommy milkers is proving near impossible.

“Ethan…” Layla’s voice is low, a whisper. Reaching out, she plants a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, the touch making the younger man twitch. “It’s okay… I understand. Losing people is… Always hard.”

Hard. Hard. Hard. Ethan knows a thing or two about hard.

“I know we don’t really know each other very well, but if you ever need to talk…”

“I’d… Lov- Like that.” Ethan sputters, trying not to think about the hand on his shoulder.

Layla smiles softly, shifting her hand off Ethan’s shoulder and patting him on the cheek. “Well, my door is always open to you, Ethan.”

Ethan swallows, audibly he’s sure.

Pan delivered, he’s good to make his escape, but to feel the touch of a woman on his skin… He freezes. Unable to move.

“Ethan?” Layla tilts her head. “Would you like to talk now?”

‘Talking’ is not what Ethan has on his mind. If Ethan was composed, fully he might take her up on her offer, despite knowing the offer is really just to talk. But Ethan isn't himself. Belly full of pie and balls full of cum, Ethan isn’t working at full capacity. While it is true he’s grieving, and the larger situation of his sorry life is weighing on him, truthfully he can’t properly think straight because he hasn't cummed one way or another in… Oh god, how long has it been?

A flash of red in his mind. Crimson hair. An impossible shade.

Two weeks.

Swallowing, Ethan struggles to put on a smile.