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?You're fighting yourself, aren't you?? The question was rhetorical, but I answered anyway, my voice husky with need. ?Youknow I am. I want to touch you? to touch myself. I want to throw you on thefloor and fuck you wildly and in every position we can think of until we'reboth so sore we can barely walk. Then I want to fuck you some more.? My wordswere sharp with unfulfilled passion and, as I said them, I watched your eyesdarken with your own need. You licked your lips as the visions I give you slidthrough your mind quickly and I could see your indecision. You wanted me sobadly, there on the bathroom floor. The primal being inside was screaming forrelease?screaming for my own beast even as I continued to voice my thoughts. ?I want to devour you, to taste you in my mouth and in my throat even as Ileave my own taste on your tongue.? You squirmed, shifting as if to ease the growing bulge in your slacks. Yourlips parted and your breath was coming quickly. I notice your hands had. All I care about is you." There was a quietness on the line, a pause that signaled that she understood. But, as she was often wont to do, rightfully, and especially at some moment when the nexus of an inexplicable profundity hung in the balance, she broke that mood with a frivolous and flippant comment that made my wilting dick throb anew…"Yeah, right, pervy, only when you blindfold me and stick your fat cock in my mouth and tell me it’s someone else’s." I chortled, and I knew my eyes were dancing in love and desire. She was right, of course, I was always playing games with her—maybe it was her turn to play one with me.Just about then I heard some commotion in the room—some loud talking and good ol’ boy hootin’ and hollering and something about a mighty fine piece of ass. "So who’s that?" I asked Kerry. "The two guys I was gonna call." Her voice sounded distant. I think she had lost focus on us, and I imagined that she had now focused her lustful attention on the three young studs.
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