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When I run my tongue along my bottom lip, I swear I can taste her sweetness again. I know it’s all in my head, but I don’t care. It’s fucking hot.
And then I think about what I wanted to do afterward, how I wanted to bring her to my place, go down on her again, this time with her lying on my bed.
I imagine Tori as she writhes against my bed sheets, moaning and screaming as loud as she wants.
I imagine that beautiful pink blush painting her fair skin the more turned on she gets.
I imagine her gazing up at me, flashing that smile that always drives me wild, that’s both cute and sexy at once.
And then I imagine her dropping to her knees, slowly pulling down my sweatpants, and taking me in her mouth.
A strangled sound rips from my throat. Fuck, that’s hot.
I work my cock in my hand faster. The pressure in my balls is almost too much.
My heart races. Every muscle in my body tenses.
I imagine Tori swirling that candy-pink tongue of hers around the head of my dick before taking me fully in her mouth.
I imagine those saucer-like eyes staring up at me while she works me in her beautiful mouth.
I imagine her working my balls in her hand while she goes to town on me with her mouth and tongue and…
My cock is throbbing. I jerk as fast I can until that pressure in my dick and balls comes to a head. A second later, I explode.
The noise that escapes my mouth is fucking feral. But I can’t help it. This is the most turned-on I’ve felt while masturbating in a long, long time.
When I finish, my heart is pounding in my chest and I’m breathing like I’ve sprinted a race.
I glance down, dropping my hand from my dick. Fuck, I made a mess.
I walk to the bathroom to clean myself up. While I do, embarrassment finally catches up, cooking me from the inside out.
Did I really just do that? Did I really just fantasize about my best friend who clearly doesn’t want me?
Soon that embarrassment turns to shame. Wow. I’m pathetic. And kind of a creep too.
I grab my phone and pull up my @thesandwichguy profile on Instagram, just to stop from thinking about what I just did.
When I see how many notifications I have, that shameful feeling starts to melt away. I do a quick skim of the comments.
Hot damn, this hottie can cook
Okay, I need to make that sandwich right now, YUM
I love you and your sandwiches!
Where has this guy been all my life?! Love him!
He’s hot AND he makes delicious sandwiches? Sign me up!
I’ve watched this on loop, like, ten times lol
I start to smile at how many positive comments there are. It’s been just a few weeks since I started this Instagram profile and I’ve got almost five thousand followers already. And it’s all thanks to Tori. She used Sweet Cheeks’ social media follower base to help me. And here I am objectifying her.
Guilt throttles me. What the hell is wrong with me?
My gaze catches on a random comment under my most recent video.
