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I tossed my phone aside. I closed my eyes and imagined Rust, in his hotel at this very moment, his hand wrapped around his big dick, as he stroked it to my pictures. I writhed in the hockey player’s bed and moaned his name, my finger circling my swollen clit faster and faster.
“Rust!” I moaned, my body quaking in blissful climax.
When I returned to my senses, I picked up my phone. A text from Rust was waiting for me.
“Look what you made me do.”He’d sent a picture of the aftermath of his self-indulgence. His spent cock laid atop his muscular thigh. He’d drenched his six-pack abs with cum, and shot streaks of cream all the way up his stacked and sizzling chest.
“So. Fucking. Hot,” I wrote, smashing the tongue emoji button over and over. “I wish I was there to clean you up.”
“What about you? Did you cum?
“Yes.”
“Did you make a mess like I wanted?”
I lifted my bottom. There was a tiny damp spot beneath me.
“Only a little,” I answered.
“Show me.”
Damn, Rust was a freak! I liked it, though. Freaky beats boringanyday of the week.
“Let’s leave a little something to the imagination,” I said, and added a stuck-out tongue face.
“Such a tease.”He laughed.“Hey, I gotta run. Time to head to the rink.”
“Good luck tonight!!!!”
I slid under the covers and snuggled up in Rust’s bed, his smell all around me. With a smile on my face, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me away.
