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Without a word, Wyatt turns on his heel and practically runs out of the room to go get my toy. He looked almost relieved to finally have something to do other than grunt and turn beet red.
When he returns, I have to bite back a laugh because I didn’t expect him to actually grab my vibrator out of my purse. I thought he’d just bring me my whole bag.
He’s a mess.
His giant hand dwarfs my tiny pink vibrator as he holds it in front of him like another grenade with no pin.
And there we both stand, face-to-face, staring at each other with bombs in our hands and no fucking idea what we’re about to get ourselves into.
“Bombs away,” I reply and take the vibrator from him, noticing it’s now warm from his touch.
“Here’s to lucky thirteen,” he states with a wobbly smile and turns to walk out the door.
“Thirteen?” I call out.
He turns and leans on the doorframe with a shrug. “You were my thirteenth interview, and, well…thirteen has always been my lucky number.”
I feel oddly jarred by that sweet remark, but those warm fuzzies disappear entirely when the door clicks closed, and I’m left alone with his big, ominous bed. Should I get under the covers, or is that weird and creepy? I mean, since I’m going to sleep here the first night, I guess it’s expected I’ll use the blankets.
And what if some of his semen leaks out? Should I lie on a towel? I mean, it’s his jizz, so I don’t think he’d mind a little spillage. But what if he thinks it’s from me? What if he thinks I get so hot and horny in here I spray the walls with my horniness?
Oh my God, I’m drunk.
“Just get your shit together, Trista. You’re a cow. You’re a cow, you’re a cow, you’re a cow.”
Setting the vibrator and syringe on the nightstand, I peel back the covers and undress quickly from the waist down, grateful for my big T-shirt because it serves as a good nightgown.
Doing as the blogs instructed, I lie on my back with my knees bent and legs shoulder width apart.
“Just like inserting a tampon,” I tell myself as my hand trembles while grabbing the warm splooge.
I stare up at the creepy truth window and cringe as I inch the hard plastic vessel between my lower lips, pushing past the small wall of muscle down there because I’m tensed like a motherfucker. All the blogs said my cervix is way too high to poke, so I should be able to insert up to my fingers, but Jesus, what if it gets lost inside me? Good God, can you imagine?
Patient enters ER with lost Tylenol syringe full of stranger’s semen.I must have missed that episode ofGrey’s Anatomy.
With one horrifying quiver, I quickly depress the plunger like I’m a fucking Hostess cupcake and recoil as the warm liquid fills my center. A slurping noise echoes in the quiet room as I pull it out and stare at it, pearly liquid dripping off the tip and onto my shirt.
I feel it sliding out of my vagina already, so I quickly twist to grab my vibrator. The buzzing noise is deafening, and I picture Wyatt sitting in his living room, hearing the sound like it’s on a megaphone speaker.
God, this is awful.
But as the suction cup vibrator works over my clit, I begin to have other thoughts…ones that don’t feel quite so horrifying.
What if Wyatt wasn’t disgusted by me masturbating in here? What if he was turned on by it? What if he imagined me in this position while he came? What if I opened the door and let him watch me?
I prop my head up and look at the closed door, allowing my lust-filled imagination to see his large frame standing there. He’s propped his arm on the frame in that way that only big, strong men can pull off. He’s leaning against it, his eyes trained on me and what I’m doing to myself.
I bet Wyatt is a dirty talker. I bet that man of few words doesn’t know how to shut up in the bedroom. I bet he would tell me to use that syringe with a little dab of semen left inside it and rub it over my clit for lubrication.
Shamelessly, my free hand reaches back to grab the discarded syringe, and in horror, I do as my filthy mind begs me to do. I smear the remaining seed over my throbbing clit and debate shoving the syringe back up inside me to fuck myself with it while picturing Wyatt’s cock.
I bet he’s bigger.
I noticed his package in the kitchen earlier, and something tells me Wyatt has plenty to work with. I drop the syringe and press the suction tip over my clit again. My eyes go back to the door and picture Wyatt standing there, his dick hard in his jeans as he rubs himself over the denim, the veins in his forearms bulging as he shows me what watching me does to him.
God, would he like this? Would he like me? Would I be someone he’d fuck in real life? Could we have done this the old-fashioned way and not the farm way? Was this a completely missed opportunity?
The image of his cock plunging inside my semen-drenched center causes a groan to echo from my lips.Fuck, that was loud.Too loud. I’m sure he heard it. Then again, he knows what I’m doing in here…it’s not a secret. The jig is up…I’m masturbating! What do I care if he hears me? At least he knows I’m giving it my all. Maybe he made some noises when he jerked off too. I should have listened at the door instead of shoving a whole-ass pizza in my mouth.
