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Ree-Ree: I want you sooo bad u jst dnt kno baby
Me: Aww. Stop.
Ree-Ree: Nah im deadazz. U got me open sexy
Me: Well you had me OPEN yesterday
Ree-Ree: that shyt waz gud…ad juicy
I smile, then text back. Glad you enjoyed it
Ree-ree: Nah luvd it!! My dik hard!! I want sum more asap!
My toes curl as I type. Mmmm
A few moments later, he texts back, Freak me baby, with a snapshot of his hard dick. My mouth instantly waters.
Me: Mmm! Delicious!
Kyree and I have been messaging back and forth for the last twenty minutes while I prepare breakfast. I saved him in my phone as Ree-Ree. Each text message causes my pulse to quicken. I feel like a schoolgirl. Vibrant. Alive. I feel like I’ve found the fountain of youth on the tip of Kyree’s young, hard dick and it’s given me eternal life. No matter how sick it is, no matter how insane it all feels; I feel like I’ve caught my second wind. And I love the excitement of it all.
Several moments pass before my cell pings again. I swipe my fingertips across the screen and instantly become dizzy with want.
U make me cum so hard
My mouth waters. There’s another picture attached to the text message. His fist wrapped around the base of his dick; a glob of white goo flowing out of its slit, dripping all over his hand. I want u
I lick my lips, and quickly type. Ooo I want u too!
I hit SEND just as Sebastian walks into the kitchen. I stuff my phone down into the front pocket of my robe. Although my husband isn’t the jealous type and has never been the type to pick up my phone and go through it, I still have a passcode on it. And he has one on his phone as well. And neither of us is bothered by it. Sebastian trusts me. And I’ve never given him any reason not to. And vice-versa.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says as he leans in and kisses me on the mouth. He cups my ass and squeezes. He’d been away on business, again, for the last eight days, this time Venezuela and Curacao.
“Hey.” I smile, breathing him in. He’s wearing Kenneth Cole Black, one of my favorite colognes on him. “Good morning.”
He kisses me again. Then wraps his arms around me, and I melt into him. “I missed you.”
I feel a tinge of guilt. But quickly push it aside. “I missed you, too.” He kisses me again, then lets me go. “I didn’t hear you when you came home,” I say. “What time did you get in last night?”
He reaches for a mug, and fills it with coffee before taking a seat at the table. “Yeah, I know. My flight didn’t land until a little after midnight. I didn’t pull up into the driveway until after one in the morning.”
“How come you didn’t wake me?”
“I wanted to, but—” He blows into his mug, taking a slow sip. “You were in such a deep sleep. I hated to wake you.” He grins. “You had that look on your face you usually get right after a night of this good lovin’.”
I swallow. “Oh? Really?”
“Yeah. But I wasn’t here, so I know that couldn’t have been why you were looking so peaceful.” He eyes me as I flit around the kitchen scooping scrambled eggs and cheese onto two plates, then several pieces of turkey bacon. He chuckles. “You must have been exhausted. I could have had my way with you and you wouldn’t have known it, or felt it.”
Thank God you didn’t.
After the three rounds of fucking Kyree put on me all afternoon yesterday, there is no way my pussy, or my body, could have handled having anything sliding up in me. After I untied Kyree, he became an animal in bed, ravishing every part of my body. Sucking my breasts, my clit, my pussy, licking my asshole, then flipping me over and slamming his dick inside of me, boomeranging my cunt walls with deep, fast thrusts. He fucked me long and hard. Punished me for torturing him. Then pulled out and watched as my hips thrust hungrily, my exposed pussy vacant, begging for more of him. I blink back the image of him pulling me toward the edge of the bed, cupping my ass, then lifting me to his mouth, sucking, slurping, lapping at my pussy, dipping into its wet folds as if it were a bowl of honey; his tongue fucking me swiftly, pushing me toward multiple orgasms.
I let out a nervous laugh, bringing my attention to Sebastian. “Oh, trust me. I would have felt you and it,” I say, leaning in and kissing him on the lips, setting a plate down in front of him.
“Uh, not the way you were snoring,” he says, teasing.
“The lies you tell. I was not. I don’t snore.”
