Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Where’s my eye mask? Why does it have to be so damn bright in here? She needs black-out curtains. I should order some on Amazon today…
I moan.
Turning to my side, I nuzzle, hand on warm, smooth skin. So warm. Like lying on a beach in nothing but swim trunks, relaxing without a care in the world.
And when was the last time I didn’t have a care in the world? Pfft. Never. For as long as I can remember, I’ve worked; worked on my plays, worked on being stronger, bigger, faster. Worked so I didn’t piss my father off, then my coaches, then team management. Working for someone else, it seems, other than myself.
Whoa, my subconscious says. Where did that thought come from?
Was I happy?
Is this what I wanted?
You’ll be happy once you’re back in Texas, where you can see your ma regularly and make sure she’s okay.
You hated New York, remember?
Yeah, but did I hate New York, or did I hate pushing myself?
What’s the difference?
I moan again in protest, wanting to shut my brain off, hand moving along the smooth surface it’s resting on, back and forth the smooth plane, back and forth…
Feels so good.
That hand moves up, stroking.
A tit.
Nice.
Been forever since I felt one of these…
Fuck, it’s a nice one too. Fits in the palm of my hand.
Groggy, my thumb brushes over the nipple—which is already a pebble—back and forth, back and forth…
Suddenly, a hand is in my hair, fingers slowly beginning to move in slow circles around my scalp as if massaging it. Fingernails lightly scratch the base of my neck.
I want to stretch like a cat and meow, it feels so fucking good.
My eyes still cannot open.
That hand migrates, slowly caressing the flesh of my shoulders while my hand cups the breast, and suddenly, I’m dreaming of that beach again, but this time, I’m naked, and she’s naked. Naked and hot, sweaty and horny.
A finger dipping into a belly button glistening with perspiration. A hand running down my spine, moving over the swell of my ass cheeks.
My dick is rock-hard, obviously, hips moving.
I haven’t had sex in…
In…
Fuck.
Does it matter?
I shift on the bed, rolling slightly to my back, bereft when a shock of cold air hits us between our bodies. Has me rolling forward more, hands grappling for the waist…hips…soft thighs…
Better than a dream.
Smells so good.
My nose presses against a rib cage, fingers still on my back, nails still trailing along my skin, my eyes unwilling to open, even to see the dawning of the day.
Too soon.
Too early.
Must be, I just fell asleep.
In the distance, I hear the television.
A soft moan is the other thing that greets my ears. Another one when she rolls to her side, taking my arm along with her, my dick now wedged between her thighs. Nose pressed into her back, the scent of her hardening me even more.
Those hips; that narrow waist…move.
Rotate in a way that has me groaning.
My arm is at her hip but slowly slides back under her shirt to seek that beautiful, full tit as if it were home.
I shift again so I’m spooning her, eyes still shut, operating on instinct and sleep and what’s behind my closed lids. I wonder what her tits look like…
She moans.
It’s a soft moan; sexy, too.
She tilts her neck so I can nuzzle it, mouth kissing her skin.
I have no idea who moves first or who does what, but suddenly, my hand is being pushed down between her legs; the legs that are spreading to allow me to explore there.
It’s warm inside her pajama bottoms…
…So warm.
Everything feels sexy lazy but in a good way; we’re face-to-face, mouths on each other, kissing each other as if it weren’t first thing in the morning. Hot. Wet.
My dick is pulsing, the angry little asshole, and I try to rein him in, but it’s a lost cause. He has a mind of his own, especially with her pressed against him.
Touching him.
What’s this now?
We’re really doing this?
Her head dips, buried in my chest. Lips kissing my pecs, hand wrapped around my swollen cock, stroking. Doing two things at once, I hesitate, too afraid to move, not wanting to lay my hands on her but wanting to lay my hands on her, specifically between her legs.
I haven’t had a hand job since I was a teenager, at least as far as I can recall. Maybe one or two chicks in college jerked me off, but this is an extremely nostalgic feeling. Fucking amazing. I don’t know if it’s because I’m still half asleep or because it’s completely unexpected or because someone’s touching my dick without an invitation.
Posey knows what she’s doing, and I am here for it.
Her little half moan of pleasure turns into a sigh when my thumb finds the center between her legs and goes around and around in small circles over what I am assuming is her clit. She’s not exactly bare down south, but I couldn’t give a shit whether she’s shaved or waxed or has a full bush. She’s soft and warm and sweet, and that’s all that matters.