I felt unsettled overnight, and I’m guessing it has to do with my pent-up frustration. I’ve had a taste of the goddess—her essence on her pussy lips, her warm mouth on my cock—and now I can’t concentrate for the life of me. I know my need won’t ease till I see her again, but every time I do see her, I have a hard time afterward. Blow jobs and hand jobs will soon stop easing the pressure and I’ll need more. Maybe it’s time to switch up my music, try something else to help me focus, but for now, my cock is rock-hard, so I put everything down, whip it out, then close my eyes and imagine the goddess in my master bedroom, naked, her boobs high and proud, her skin begging for my touch. I move my hand up and down my thick shaft as I imagine her crawling on my bed then lying on her back, spreading for me. I suddenly remember the silky red panties she left me and stop to grab them from the canvas bag I tossed them in—the cleanest thing in my studio—to slide against my cock as I get back to the mental image, climbing over the goddess and lining our parts up.
What do You think about Sculptor: A Steamy Romance?
