Page 14 of Deranged Imposter

She tests me with teasing pouts and luring whines. I suppose I made it easy for her to fall into a habit. Her soft body and delicate temperature soothe the zealous punches behind my ribs, serving their purpose to keep the vicious thoughts at bay.

She drives me mad, insane even.

Night after night, sleepless demons laugh and mock my tattered control. They dance in ribbon waves down my clenched jaw, changing to sharp feather tips like the black ink needle-crafting secrets onto my skin, then they shift to her soft hands brushing the underside of my cock.

I’m weak for her, and I admit it with honor.

Isa is a part of me, maybe all of me. My thoughts, my body, my life—she’s everything and everywhere.

On nights before she tricked me with this dorm switch, I would sleep next to her and suffer the sweetest torment. I can’t untangle where reality begins and the dream ends.

Her supple ass in the tiniest cotton shorts, cushioning my cock as the motion of her hips roll her into a more comfortable spot. Her tits are plump, and I never give up the chance to feel their weight in my hands when she huddles closer for warmth.

Her lips, I groan and wrap a hand around my swollen cock,they hide her little pink tongue.

I remember on a hot summer day last year, her lips sucking on that damned red popsicle and catching the melted juices with her deft tongue.

Palming the pulsing thickness, I throw my head back and indulge in the fruity scent. It’s the closest thing to her, for now. An aid, not a replacement.

I will have all of Isa or no one at all. I would be disrespecting her if I gave a piece of myself away. My hands will do fine.

I fist my cock harder, thumbing the drooling tip in hopes of gradually pretending the sensation is the feel of her tongue.

A knock breaks the serene air, forcing a startled grip on my cock. Pleasure zaps up my spine as my teeth clench to stifle the throaty moan.

“Are you okay?” Isa calls from the hall.

I can’t speak for a moment, too engrossed with another firm stroke around my cock to squeeze a bead of cum from the tip.

It seems that pride hasn’t made its presence known since a long time ago. It’s fitting with the shameful and lewd act of fucking my fist as if it’s her small mouth.

“Did you slip? Do I need to call—”

“Isa,” my voice rumbles huskily, “I want you.”

“What?”

Insistent knocks grow louder, her worried voice splattering vivid colors behind my eyes. Twisting and tugging roughly, I quicken the tightening in my stomach as cum starts to bubble from the tip.

“Come in,” I bark, my tongue scraping my teeth.

I stop when the door opens, her head peeking through the crack as her hand covers her eyes. She says something, but the ringing in my ears is louder.

“Are you standing?” she asks, pressing her hand harder against her eyes.

“Bubble bath,” I croak and can’t resist a subtle tug.

She parts two fingers and squints through them, deeming it is safe to look at me. The alluring pout climbs to her face as she accuses me of stealing her bubble bath and being sneaky when she was only going to grab her clothes.

A childish retort wanes on my tongue.

I might have been too impatient and bathed first. But she doesn’t look upset about it.

“Wash my hair,” I say, slanting my head to the side to stare at her amid the dense condensation. “And shut off the lights.”

“Anything else, your highness?” she sasses and closes the door behind her.

My eyes adjust to the darkness as she fumbles her way to me, mumbling about me being so spoiled that she feels it’s wildly inappropriate to be in the same room as me when I’m undressed.

---