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In the fantasy, she does what I tell her, just like she’ll do in real life. She bounces up and down as I stroke my cock quicker, not sure what’s real and what’s imagined anymore. Staring at the photo, I imagine her guarded, shy eyes wide with lust. I think about those big juicy tits jiggling for me with each thrust.
Fuck, oh, fuck, and now it’s like I can feel her pussy squeezing onto my shaft. I press down on my dick with my hand, holding it and thinking of her slit, her wetness, her young, excited pussy opening up for me as she gets ready to send her lust-filled cream down my length.
My vision gets blurry as I rub faster, faster, consumed by the photo. Distantly, I wonder what she’d think if she could see me now, my cock in my hand, stroking so fast my arm is a blur. Disgust and judgment flash across this Katy’s face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a phantom voice snaps. “You’re twice my age. You’re a bad man. You’re a killer. You’re evil. You’re no better than a dog. Do you really think I’d want you if I knew who you were? And even if I didn’t, you make me sick.”
My cock starts to get soft as these words invade the fantasy. There’s a chance—maybe a big one—this is exactly what she’d say if she knew what I was doing. I could stop now. Let this be a warning sign, but instead, I push all that away and focus on the photo again.
I don’t try to fantasize anymore. I just stare at the photo of my woman, at those tempting curvy breasts. I stroke my shaft quicker, with more pressure. Seed starts to rush up my rock-hard dick. It bursts right to my end and stays there at the edge of release. My head rushes with warmth and dizziness.
Then I hear Katy’s voice again. I’m so close to the climax that my head is flooded with fire. It’s like she’s in the room with me this time. “Go on, Sam,” she says, moaning like my eager young woman is on the edge, too. “Come for me. Come hard. Come deep inside my pussy. Make me pregnant. Make me yours. Come, Sam. Please, please, come for me…”
I’m still stroking, more seed rushing up, but it still doesn’t burst from my tip. It’s like my body doesn’t want to erupt unless it’s inside her. As I close my eyes, a fantasy hits me again at the final moment.
I see my cock sliding into her, see her lips spread, and imagine reaching down and rubbing her juicy clit at the same time as grinding inside of her. Then I can’t take it anymore. It doesn’t matter if every drop of my seed belongs in her body.
I’m panting, almost roaring. In the final moment, there’s no doubt. I’m going to marry this woman.
I groan as a hot stream of come erupts from my dick, bursting out of me all over my stomach. I feel it sliding warmly between my abs and sit up, shaking my head, waiting for the haze to clear. It doesn’t.
If she were here, I’d get hard again and fuck her right now. The only thing that will clear the haze is her body, not through text, not in my mind. I need her body in my hands, controlled and dominated by me, every touch and tongue stroke reminding her who she belongs to. I’ll use her, protect her, own her. Forever.
“The fuck is wrong with me?”
I stand, walk awkwardly into the en-suite, and clean myself up. It’s time to go to work.
Once I finish, I call one of my contacts in the Bratva. I did a job for him three years ago, a personal matter involving his child and one of her basketball coaches. His kid wasn’t the only one, either. There was some heat at the time, and this man wasn’t a high-ranking Bratva, so the so-called brotherhood refused to take care of it.
“Do you know a man with a white bear tattooed on his shoulder?”
“That’s a dangerous question, my friend,” he replies in a Russian accent. I wait, saying nothing, and he does the same. It’s a tactic many people in this life use. Finally, he says, “You’re asking for something that’s common knowledge. Everybody knows the man you’re speaking about.”
“I could’ve heard it from anybody.”
“Yes, or maybe you just searched several Bratva locations and found him that way.”
“That works.”
I hear him sigh. At my feet, Jackal sits to complete attention, ready for whatever will happen. He’s wearing his military-grade dog vest. He looks like he’s ready to roll out on patrol. Some might judge me for putting my dog in danger, but I’m strangely superstitious about dogs.
Maybe it’s all the pets I had when I was a kid. My best friends. So much simpler than people. The point is, I’ve seen how my boy Jackal will pass on, and it’s not like this. It’s years in the future, peacefully, when he’s lived a healthy and productive life. Hell, it’s not like he hasn’t saved my life before.
