time as he stroked, twisting a little at the head and groaning
at the pleasure.
I groaned, thinking of it, imagining how thick his prick must
be. How his pubic hair would be dark like the hair on his
head. In my head inches didn't matter. Length and girth
were a matter of sensation, of how his cock would fil my
hands and mouth and pussy.
I wanted something to fil me now but had only the bulet
vibe and my fingers. My hips lifted, pressing my cunt into
my hand. I didn't even need the lube, I was so wet. I
sought my G-spot with one hand and stroked it, shivering
as always from the gut-deep tingles that stimulation always
gave me.
Austin had always loved to watch me make myself come.
Sometimes we'd pretend I didn't know he was there as I
sat at my desk or lounged in our apartment's old claw-foot
tub. I could come sometimes more from the way he
watched me than by what my hand was doing. Now I
could only imagine his eyes on me.
I have a very good imagination.
Two men filed my head. One was jerking his cock but not
alowing himself to spil over into sweating, moaning
climax. The other watched me from a shadowy doorway
as I licked my fingertips and swirled them over my hard,
tight clitoris. One was dark, the other golden, and both
wanted me.
I wanted both of them, too, and the realization washed
over me as suddenly as my orgasm. Sweat tasted bitter on
my upper lip when I licked it. My cunt bore down on my
fingers and I came, hard. I opened my eyes as pleasure
fingers and I came, hard. I opened my eyes as pleasure
swarmed over me and swept me away. I shuddered with
it, that pleasure, so familiar and yet so different, every time.
It was al about control, in the end, and I had it.
I didn't see Eric the next morning at the crush for the mail,
but since I'd seen him every other place but the mailboxes
I wasn't surprised. I held back for a lul, though, glad I did
when I saw the familiar shape of a white note card waiting
for me. I held my breath when I puled it out, more aware
than ever of how wrong it was for me to read it.
It didn't stop me. I shoved the other mail into my bag and
slid the card from its envelope, my heart already pounding
in anticipation of what I'd find today and how different it
would seem now that I knew for whom the words were
truly meant.
'No.' My mouth fel slack with the sound of disbelief and I stared harder at the card.
I folded it shut as though it might change what I'd read, but
as though they'd been written in flames, the words burned
my fingers through the paper.
