“Well, the sex isn’t good anymore, remember,” Liz said. “Now that he’s gone, I don’t want to be with anyone but him.”
She heard her sister sigh. “Believe it or not, I’m kind of in the same boat.”
Liz started. This didn’t sound like Diana. “Oh?”
“Remember I told you about Bradley, the guy mom fixed me up with? Well, turns out he’s, um…not into sex, or at least not until well into the relationship, so I’m sort of frustrated these days myself.”
Liz barely knew how to reply. The Diana she knew wouldn’t date a guy who wasn’t into sex, early and often. But then again, maybe this meant Bradley was someone special, someone who was changing Diana’s wild ways. “Are things serious between you two?” she asked.
“Maybe. Kind of. I’m not sure. But back to you…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry you’re sad, Lizzie. This P.I. guy sounds like he was a keeper.”
Liz didn’t reply, simply bit her lip to hold back her emotion.
“Maybe you should just go ahead and tell him about Todd’s threats,” Diana suggested.
“Easy for you to say. You haven’t been here watching Todd self-destruct. He’s an entirely different guy than he was back in Maryland.”
“Hmm, seems that city you’re in has strange powers over everyone, doesn’t it?”
Indeed, Liz thought. The French Quarter had certainly changed her.
When she hung up with Diana a little while later, nothing was particularly changed or resolved, but she was still glad to have filled her sister in on the happenings in her life—and she hoped she’d be good and sleepy now, ready to doze off.
But despite herself, her body was still humming with sexual need.
She’d have been far better off if she’d stayed home tonight. Seeing all the sensuality on the dance floor, then getting unwittingly aroused by Felicia’s touches and dirty talk, and then Lynda’s invitation…it was all too much. Add to that giving Diana all the details of her relationship with Jack, and her poor pussy wouldn’t quit pulsing no matter what she did. If Felicia walked in her door right now, she thought she might invite her upstairs.
As it was, she simply ascended the stairs to her room alone, walked to the chest, and opened her lingerie drawer. Digging down under the lace and silk, she pulled out the vibrator—Jack’s gift to her. She ran her hand over the head, the veined shaft, missing Jack’s cock so much it hurt.
Walking to the bed, she lay down without even taking off her strappy, heeled shoes. Lifting her ass, she pulled her dress up to her hips, then hooked her thumbs into the white thong panties she wore, pushing them down until they were off, finally flinging them away with her toes.
Keeping her knees bent, she parted her legs and looked down at her pussy. Even without seeing Jack every night, she’d kept it shaven but for the trim tuft of hair extending up from the top of her slit. Now she ran her hand over the outside of her cunt to feel the soft, smooth skin there, before placing the shaft of the vibrator flush against herself and twisting the end to turn it on. Sweet, electric tremors echoed through her hot flesh. She felt her pussy lips spread, inviting the shaft to nuzzle closer, where she was wet. She rubbed it up and down her slit, letting the buzzing vibrations fill her.
But it wasn’t enough, she soon discovered—she wanted a cock inside her. She wanted Jack’s cock inside her. She closed her eyes and imagined it, all hard and lovely, the dark pink head with just a dot of pre-come resting there, the blood-filled shaft—silk over steel in her hand. Raising her ass just slightly, she slid the vibrator into her passage—an easy entry. It filled her, but…it so clearly wasn’t Jack and she wanted to keep pretending it was. She turned it off, killing the vibrations but making it feel more like a real phallus. She moved it in and out, gentle at first, then harder, harder. And it felt good, something like what she needed…but damn it, still so far from exactly what she needed. The pretend cock was a little smaller than Jack’s, and fucking herself with it simply didn’t hold the power, or pleasure, that Jack’s hot fucking delivered.
She sighed. God, how sad. She missed him so badly she couldn’t even get herself off.
But then she let a new fantasy grow in her mind. Instead of imagining the vibrator was Jack, she imagined that Jack could see her, that he was watching her pleasure herself with it. Yes, he would like that—he’d once even said something to that effect. So she turned it back on, sending the hot, fast, quivering vibrations back through her cunt once again, and she slid it in and out, pretending Jack was watching every move, listening to her labored breath and watching as she sensuously licked her upper lip, hearing her low moans as she began to fuck herself harder, deeper.
Then she felt—remembered—the little nub Jack had pointed out to her. Each time she pushed the shaft in all the way, the raised knob rubbed against her clit. Mmm, yes. Very nice. The sensation made her slow the thrusts, got her lost in the pleasure—and also the fantasy. Jack watched the slow, deep fuck. He watched her reach up with her available hand to pull down her dress, freeing her breasts and then massaging one of them, enjoying the feel of her stiffened nipple jutting into her palm. He watched her quit thrusting the cock altogether, instead inserting it all the way, as deep as possible in her pussy, then writhing against that
