But I’m getting ahead of myself. I banish all thoughts of babies and picket fences. That’s the nice thing about daydreams, they don’t have to follow a logical progression, but it is time to stop thinking about either of them being dads.
My interest in them focuses on how fuckably hot they are. I imagine them holding me, their strong arms comforting me, but the fantasy doesn’t stay PG for long. My sex aches at the thought of them filling me.
Their hands would slide down my arms, take my hands, raise them over my head, and pin me against a wall.
Talk about going from zero to sexy.
They definitely seem like the type I’d like to ditch my virginity with.
Which of them would have the thicker cock and which would have the longer one? I imagine climbing on top of dad-bod Lennox and sliding onto his shaft. He’d try to flip us over, but I wouldn’t let him.
I’d give myself an orgasm on his cock then climb onto Blake who’s eagerly waiting because he’s a good boy. The tip of his erection dripped with pre-cum while he watched me fuck his friend.
I’d give myself an orgasm on my good boy, taking a little more time since my second one is always a little slower to build.
Then, once I was doubly satisfied, I’d let them do what they want with me.
Which means Trena might be right that my feelings are lust—if heart flutters and thoughts of the future are part of lust.
As I fall back into my fantasy, it feels like so much more than just wanting a good time. The closest I ever came to looking at real estate with Henry was when we broke into an abandoned house—just because we could.
Abandoned. That’s where thoughts of Henry belong. He doesn’t get any real estate in this daydream.
Where was I… oh yeah, weak from my orgasms.
Blake would pull me against his body and say, “Damn, Ceci, I can’t hold back when you tighten on me like that.”
Then he’d flip me onto my back, his cock filling me the entire time. He’d swell and shoot streams of cum into me. No pulling out. No fear. No condom. He’d say, “Lay here like a good girl while I get you pregnant.”
And I would.
And when he finally pulled out, Lennox would do—
I catch myself. That escalated quickly. Taking a breath, I open my eyes and roll my head to the side. Dammit, the real estate magazine flipped open to our colorful Victorian.
Our house?No! What is wrong with me?
I backtrack my thoughts, trying to figure out how I got there. Everything becomes clear. I know what I want from them—to teach me about sex. It’s safe and no-commitment. That’s all.
And while I don’t understand the whole breeding part of my fantasy, my breaths are heavy. My hand has run down between my legs. I’m going to run with it. My skirt bunches at my hips. My fingers press on my panties. So wet. So ready.
Bells ring.
Shit! That’s not part of the fantasy. It’s the bell over the entry.
A girl can’t catch a break. Annoyed, I sit up, smoothing my skirt, but take my time to open my eyes. “Welcome to Whispering Pines Diner. Sit wherever you want.”
Bad move.
By the time I’m upright, Henry is scooting onto the bench seat across from me.
“Leave,” I say bluntly.
“You can’t make me leave.” He picks up the magazine and tosses it onto the table. The damn Victorian.
“I have the right to refuse service to anyone.”
He reaches across the table for my hands, but I pull away and stand. He stares at the table. “Look Ceci, I get that you’re mad.”
