That Night, I Check Myself Out

I sprawled out on my bed. The day hadn’t been so bad. Dante’d gotten over the novelty of it in an hour and went back to watching movies, occasionally leering at me while I read or helped customers.

He kept his end of the deal: he never touched me.

I shimmied out of my too-tight clothes and breathed a sigh of relief. I looked down with a sudden realization. Tits!

I jumped out of bed to look at myself in the mirror. Holy fuck, I was hot. I let my hands travel all over my body. I pinched my nipples and moaned at the sparks it set off.

My hands made their way to my pussy. Somehow, I was wet. I shook my head. Nothing should have turned me on, but I used the opportunity to see what a pussy felt like.

My snatch enveloped my finger in a slick warmth. Delight shot through me. I could only imagine how good my penis would feel in one of these.

I fingered myself as best I could, watching a red flush overtake me. It felt amazing. I doubled the speed, groaning. The sounds I made only heightened my arousal.

Then, my pleasure hit a ceiling. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break through. An orgasm remained just out of reach.

I persevered for half an hour but had no luck. Frustrated, I fell back onto my bed and drifted into a fitful slumber.