Fantasizing

Every chance I get, I find myself heading to Diego for more massages. Each time, I can't help but imagine him being a little less professional. What if one of his hands were to reach down lower? If his massages have taught me anything, it's that he's an expert with his hands. Bet he'd have me cumming over and over, and that's not taking into account whatever he's packing in his pants.

In bed, I find myself seeing him with my eyes clothes. His hands explore my body as I picture what he looks like without his clothes. His muscular arms tell me he must have a pretty spectacular six-pack underneath his shirt, but I also wonder just what his cock is like? Some nights I imagine him to be as thick as my purple dildo, and others I think of him being as long as my black one. Sometimes I pretend he's curved like my pink dildo, and some nights I'm too worked up to use anything but my fingers.

After two weeks of fantasizing about Diego, I realize I've got to do something. I don't know exactly what, but I know that toys aren't enough anymore. I need him. I need his hands to explore me, his lips to kiss mine, and his cock inside of me.