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" Get your stuff, your room is on the right. Get ready for dinner, I ordered some Italian." If you say so," I said as I smiled at her.I thanked all my lucky stars and tried not to run to the car to unload my stuff. I couldn’t believe how tired I was when I was in the shower. The images of her breasts, her cleavage and her body were driving me nuts and my balls were aching for release. I wanted to masturbate but I just wanted to hit the bed. I must have dozed off, because when I woke she was standing over me calling my name.I opened my eyes and suddenly realized where I was."Sorry, I was just too tired," I said sheepishly. She had also showered and changed into a cute flowery skirt and a white shirt. The top three buttons were left open, exposing an eyeful of her luscious breasts."I called, but didn’t get an answer. You hungry?" She asked."Yup. What're we having? "Pizza. I ordered Italian, remember?" She said and we both laughed out together.Dinner was just casual talk and the night. The holdups swished against the bed as I spread and closed my legs in response to the rampant need within me. The air conditioning was fighting a losing battle to keep me from going supernova, my centre sparking, short-circuiting, mere seconds away from ignition. Again.I felt it welling up, possibly greater than last time. The hunger. The need for release. Threatening to rip me in two. Everything started to tighten, to twist then unravel. My head swam. I barely recognised my own voice, dripping with lust:“Can I come yet?”There was a maddening delay. Like he was weighing up the options. My pleasure in his hands, yet he’d not touched me. Time stretched and contracted like the muscles that longed to do the same inside my soaked channel. I was so close. So fucking close.“No.” His tone was even. Measured. Sexy, even in just those two letters.I cried out, the desperation almost painful. Flinging my hands to the bed by my sides, I wriggled like I’d been reeled in from the ocean and dumped on.
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