God. Lizzy was right. The real thing was better than all my BOB’s and dildos. I was fucking horny for a meaty man stick, a schlonga dong dong. Fuck, call it cupid’s arrow. I’d let it shoot inside of me.
Immature. As soon as the last words passed through my mind, I imagined cum. Lots of delicious Callum cum shooting inside me.
Fuck!
I needed to get control.
“You had your hand on the speaker button.”
“The speak… er butt- oh fuck.”
Balloon popped.
Total mortification.
I was drier than the Sahara dessert.
“Did you hear…”
“Yes.”
“Which is why you…”
“Yes.”
My head fell into my hands.
I looked up a minute later, words still stuck in my throat.
He ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back, revealing more tattoos on the underside of his arm.
“Fuck.” Slipped out. He was a goddamn piece of art. A beautiful, sexy, tattooed piece of art.
He held his hand down to help me up.
Yes, please help me up from my post orgasm collapsed state on your shower floor.
I adjusted the towel, so it wrapped all the way around me.
“Do you mind if I change real quick?” He asked.
“No… no. Please.”
He stepped out of the shower and walked over to his dresser and faced the windows. He slipped on a shirt and then slipped off his pants.
Just his pants.
He was going commando.
Fuck. Shitballs. Mother ass.
His ass was perfect. Shit. I couldn’t stop staring. It was so tight, and…
He looked over his shoulder. “You’re moaning again.”
My eyes grew wide, and I turned around. I would say I was sorry, but it would be a lie. Because I wasn’t. But I was beginning to wonder how many times I could embarrass myself in one morning?
I heard him slip on his pants and start walking to the door.
