Page 44 of Sombra
Oh, the hell with it. I’m pretty good at taking care of this part of me.
I lie back in bed, drowsy. My fingers creep into my underwear. I feel my flesh. My wetness. My throbbing. I give myself over to the pleasure of rubbing and stroking myself. It’s so decadent. I allow myself to feel good. To be on that white fur with the fingers of my lover circlingme, making my body tense and aching.
My lover isn’t who I think it should be. My lover has thick, messy dark hair and a cleft chin. Calloused hands and gritty forearms.
My lover talks to me with a deep, Spanish accent and generous words.
My lover is so attuned to my every twitch. My every gasp. Every cry.
He knows what he’s doing to me, and he gets off on me lovingit.
My sex swells as my fingers find all the spots that I love the best and keep at them, unrelenting, until I edge myself to the very end of pleasure.
Or maybe my lover does this. Because this time, I come.
