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The first thingI do when I step under the hot shower is grab my aching, hard cock.
I’ve basically been semi-hard since Angela licked the whiskey off my throat yesterday and I’m in desperate need of release. Otherwise I worry I’ll do something crazy like try to kiss her again.
I remind myself that slow and steady is the key with Angela.
But in my mind, I imagine things going hard and fast.
I pump my cock and think about all the ways I want to pleasure her.
“Carter, please,” she moans in my fantasy, as I stroke her upper thighs.
“Please what, Angel?”
“Please touch me,” she says softly. In my fantasy, her hair is unbound and spread around her head on a pillow, and her face is flushed.
“Touch you where?”
“Touch my pussy,” she says. “Make me come.”
“Beg me for it,” I command.
I pump my cock harder, grunting in satisfaction as I imagine making her beg me to touch her.
“Please, Carter, please. I want your fingers inside me, my pussy is aching for you.”
If Angela ever asked me this in reality, I’d probably pass out from shock and then from joy. I’d also probably blow a load on the spot. But in my fantasy, I do exactly as she wants: I fill her with one finger, and then two, and fuck her slowly as she writhes on the bed.
“Carter,” she whimpers.
I imagine rubbing her clit gently with my thumb and watching as she rocks her hips into my hand.
“Do you like me fucking you with my fingers, Angel?”
“Yes,” she moans.
“Tell me how much you like it.”
“It’s so good, I love it so much. Carter, I’m going to come,” she says. Fantasy Angela starts playing with her nipples, and massaging her heavy, perfect breasts.
God, I miss those fucking tits.
“You’re such a good girl,” I imagine telling her. “Such a good, perfect girl, with a perfect pussy, coming like that for me.”
And then she’s coming, and I am as well. I let out a groan, and hope Angela doesn’t hear me in the other room.
Fuck.
After I come down, I feel just as horny as I did before I jerked off, and I want her just as much. I want her perfect tits in my hands, and her pussy on my mouth. I want to taste her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I want to wake up with her, and for her, and I want all her good and bad moments, her triumphs and her failures and her joy.
I want her. I’vealwayswanted her. But this trip has only shown me how fucking badly I need her.
Because I’ll never want another woman like I want her.
After I finishshowering and then jerk off again, I find Angela sitting on the bed scrolling on her phone. Margery really thought of everything, and Angela has her phone plugged into the charger that the suite came with.
The reality of her hits me square in the chest, and it’s so much better than any fantasy. Her hair is drying in soft curls around her face, and when she looks up from her phone at me, I notice that the dark blue on her shirt has turned her turquoise eyes a deep, ocean blue. She has one denim clad leg primly crossed over the other, and the stare she levels at me would stop a weaker man in his tracks. She’s a fucking queen.
“Have a good shower?” she asks, cocking a brow at me.
