Her Billionaires(22)

Wow! He just stared at his smart phone, dumbfounded, willing away an erection that ignored the effort, no hope that it was going to go away. He could tell as he just stared at the blinking cursor.

Finally she wrote back,

Hello, hello. Are you there, Mike?

Oh, Jesus. He startled as he realized he needed to respond, and quickly typed back,

Yeah, sorry. Not enough coffee yet. So, great, it’s a date? And thanks.

She wrote back a little smiley face, and he realize as he leaned back in the chair that he may have just made the biggest mistake of his life.



Had she really just made a date less than three hours after sneaking out of another guy’s bed? She opened up one of the seventeen texts from Josie which, as she scrolled through them, appeared to all be variations of “Please tell me about the hot guy.”

So she finally decided to put Josie out of her misery and typed out, “Hey. Awesome night. Will tell you the deets later”, hit “send” and almost instantly got back a response.#p#分页标题#e#

What do you mean later? Hell, no. I’m coming over.

She wrote back:

Can’t. I’m late for work as it is. Let’s just say I need a shower this morning.

and hit “Send”.

Squeeeee

was Josie’s reply.

Do you have another date?

Do I have another date? Oh, yeah, Josie, I have another date. It’s just not with the same guy. Ugh, how was she going to tell her this? She needed two showers. One to wash off Dylan and the other one to wash off her own skank.

This was getting ridiculous. She typed back:

There’s a lot to this. Will write more later. Talk later.

She hit “Send” and turned her phone over, leaving Josie hanging, and padded into the shower. Indeed, it was time to wash off Dylan and her own... er... her own sense of ambiguity? Indecision? Disappointment?

Revelation? For she had learned so much these past few days, mostly about herself. In some ways, she was surprised to realize, it didn’t matter that Dylan was with someone else. In the past, that would have crushed her, but now—now she felt a renewed sense of power. Of strength. Stripping down and turning up the temperature on the shower’s spray, she felt her body melt into the hot water, the sting of the jets tearing her away from her looping thoughts, putting the focus back on her body. Rivulets of water streamed over her breasts, down her belly, with its gentle curves and lush skin, pooling at her V and sliding down her thighs, a familiar heat rushing into her womanhood.

It may have been only a few hours since she’d left his bed, but his mark really was on her. Closing her eyes, she remembered his touch and felt an incongruous sense of guilt. Guilt? He’s the one who had a girlfriend or wife. Yet here she was, scheduling a date with a stranger hours after having Dylan in her. On her. All over her.

The detachable shower head was about to earn its keep. She knew exactly where to aim it, her hands practiced when it came to masturbating. All her normal fantasies, though, weren’t cutting it—not the dream about Jake Gyllenhaal, or Matt Bomer, or even Zach Braff. Instead, her mind drifted to Dylan. And Mike.

As she parted her labia and zeroed the jet spray on her clit, she fought the image of Dylan. And Mike! Both? Yet nothing made it go away. Her body responded to the mere idea of it, of both of them at once, of four hands, two mouths, two cocks all focused on her. Laura. On her needs, on her pleasure, on her discovery. Ahhhhh...

This was crazy! She hadn’t even met Mike yet. Had crawled out of Dylan’s bed just a few hours ago, resolved never to see him again. Why was she letting them dominate her fantasies? She still had Dylan’s juices in her, his saliva dried on her, his kiss and skin and lips all—well, now that the water washed the night away, that wasn’t really true, but her neck tightened as her breasts swelled, her hands holding the shower spray in one hand, centered straight on her clit now, her other hand parting her labia and two fingers slowly entering her, the balance hard to achieve but easier as she propped one foot up on the edge of the tub and leaned back against the shower wall.

Her fingers encountered slightly sore flesh, her mouth spreading with an unexpected grin as she recognized why it hurt a bit, why the water’s sting was so bittersweet. Ah, Dylan—he had been thick and huge and gentle and rough all at once, knowing exactly how to press her skin, tweak her tight spots, play her body to perfect orgasm over and over with his tongue, his lips, his fingers, his hands, and that gorgeous, veined cock.

Now she had a face for her menage fantasies— Mike’s. Why not? Live a little, Laura. No one knew what went on in the privacy of her own mind, her own shower, and as she sighed deeply, the pressure of everything vanquished, she felt a familiar heat and bliss rise up in her as the water pulsed its way into her soul, her clit crying out for more, her fingers sliding in and out of her tight pussy not in a heated rush but, instead, slowly, stroking that spot on the top that always made her clench just a tad harder, made her breath hitch, made her imagine it was Mike’s fingers in her, Dylan’s tongue strumming her clit, both men eager and ready to enter her at once.