Page 28 of Burning for You

As rose-scented bubbles float across my chest and belly, I slide two fingers inside my pussy. It’s wet—with Josh. It’s been too long since my last hurrah, and after a seductive encounter with a guy with attractiveness as galactic as Bryan, my need to release escalates.

Just for tonight.

If I have to break my own promise to stop that man from infiltrating my thoughts, so be it.

Being hugged with his safety is no longer achievable, but I know tonight will be the night I’ll be drenched in my own juice from a good cock stirring in my canal and banging against my walls—albeit an imaginary one.

My clit is already having an erection. I’m beyond help and not bothered by any possible consequences—which, at this stage, I can’t find any.

I need to come, I have to come! And somehow I don’t think fingers are the answer right now. Like a drunk teetering along a bar, I leave the bath to reach for a towel, the biggest one I can find. I hear the blender running in the kitchen. Josh must be making his usual pre-dinner smoothie. It wouldn’t have mattered where my fiancé is…the inferno inside me is raging, I would wank the shit out of me even if he was here with me.

I roll the towel up, ride it, and then immerse myself back in the bath.

And so my excursion begins.

The steam rising from the water forms a shape. Bryan’s face is as clear as day. Those pouts, they could eat pussies all day—but in this moment, he has no other choice but to devour mine, just mine. His exquisite masculine chin, covered in a light beard, will tickle my perineum pink, if not crimson.

Bryan…

His shirt might’ve been a tad too big, and his fly was open, but he’s someone who could’ve come out of a GQ magazine. A heartthrob that the young and mature alike would salivate over, including those nuns at the Sisters of Mercy just around the corner from Brilliance.

Do I hear a church bell ringing?

Bryan.

He is Sunday morning.

I moan as my muscles relax at the thought.

Sunday morning. Fresh dew, soft sun, the smiling face of a young man, a hand gliding my underwear down along my legs beneath a tickling blanket. We’ll have sex until lunch time… no parts of my body will escape his touch, rub and poke.

I cry out a satisfying yearning. The bath water sloshes as my hips move. My free hand flicks a nipple. I wish I had three hands so I could tend to both breasts and my vagina at the same time.

Still leg-hugging my bundle of joy, I feel erotic hunger that spreads to all parts of my body. Beads of pleasure form and pop slowly, one by one.

I can orgasm without penetration, when the fantasy hits the spot and the desperation reaches boiling point. I’ll give my flying solo record before today a score of eight out of ten, but tonight, it’s quickly climbing to a nine.

In this moment, everything clicks. My crafty mind is ready to turn any dream into reality. The shape of Bryan’s cock snakes inside me. The weight of his muscle bears on my body, tightening every orifice—more so when I put my arms around him. Firm, very firm, so that our skin laminates against each other, impenetrable even by air.

“Don’t stop…” I beg the hot steam.

The beads inside me keep popping, erratically, one overlapping the other.

Until the big one arrives.

My groin tries to contain the blast. But I let it go and whisper-shout to my towel as if it was the man himself. Two or three more tremors wreak further havoc, and then they settle into a series of satisfying aftershocks.

A fucking miracle.

A perfect score.

Panting, I let my head rest on the ecstasy-inducing roll of fluff and fall into a nap.

Until I feel a kiss.

“Hey… you did miss me, huh?” Josh says. “We should do it more often.”

I smile—guiltily, awfully. I’m floating in a blissful cloud thanks to an illusory fuck, and my partner came in to claim credit for it.

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