Page 11 of Silver Fox Daddies

And they’re huge.

So big that if we were to have sex, they’re not fitting much inside.

If it ever comes to that.

My breath hitches more the longer I look, and the burning sensation returns to my pussy.

Still gasping for breath, I reach down, slip a finger under my panties, and circle my clit. I imagine how it might feel to have their dicks there—not inside at first, just rubbing against my clit.

Fuck, I think it would feel amazing.

I roll back my head, arousal growing, and back into a wall. Opposite me is a full-length mirror. I pause, catching myself. I’ve never seen myself in this state before. Never stopped to look. I masturbate rarely, but when I do, I never put anything inside. I tried a finger once, but it didn’t really do much for me.

Whenever I come, I’m thinking about the general idea of sex with someone I love. Or, if I saw a handsome man on the street earlier that day, I’d rub my clit thinking about them.

I look at the image again. Their dicks are all so big. One has a thick vein running down the length, and another boasts a silver jewel pierced through the tip.

I can’t see their faces. All I see is a bit of torso, their cocks, and some of their legs. They’re all plastered in tattoos, even their thighs.

And I want them.

Even though I don’t quite know the logistics of how this will all work. There are three of them and one of me. Would they have to take turns? Would two of them watch while the other one penetrates me, or would they each have a role to play?

I catch myself in the mirror again, back arched away from the wall.

I slide a hand up to my breasts and dip my shirt down, exposing one. I tilt my head in the mirror, examining myself. My vision is hazy, the bathroom walls spinning, but I can still make out theoutline of my body in the mirror. Taking out my other breast, I reach the conclusion that they’re too big to be kept hidden inside of a bra.

I put down the drink for a moment to better hold my phone.

(775) 375-6825: Do you like what you see, sweetheart?

I don’t reply, navigating to my camera instead.

I hold up my phone and play around with a few poses.

First, I try with my panties on, bringing attention to my breasts.

I snap the photo. Evaluate.

No. I want to tease my pussy too, but still get the panties in the shot since I’m wearing lace.

I pull them down and part my legs slightly.

Assess the phone screen.

Fuck, I look hot. Arousal has puckered my nipples. Also, I’m sweating, so my skin looks shiny, like I’ve lathered it up in oil. With the overhead lighting, it’s the perfect shot.

Heart beating in my throat, I bring my spare hand down in between my legs to spread apart my folds.

And then I take the photo.

My body’s reacting like it’s just finished running a marathon, breath heaving. Heart rate sky-high. I thought I wasn’t capable of feeling this aroused.

And I definitely didn’t think it’d be for three silver-fox men.

I come away from the wall, reevaluating the photograph. My legs carry me to the bath, and I land in the tub with athump.

The booze is well and truly in my bloodstream now, getting carried to my brain. I feel it there, threading through all of the neurons, altering them. Laid down in the bath, naked, I stare at the photograph, blinking, trying to focus my vision.

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