I woke up hungry

The odd dream was already fading, but in its place I found myself hungering for… information. I wasn’t sure about what. I saw Regina lying there asleep… or was she actually asleep? Her eyes opened in a way that suggested she hadn’t been. Perhaps she never slept. Only waited.

“Yes, Ringmaster?” she said, sitting up, anticipating questions probably from my expression alone. I was momentarily captivated by her stare.

“What time is it?” I asked, bereft of a more profound query, averting my gaze and wondering where my underwear had gone, then remembered that I had soaked through that pair already. When I got out of the bed Regina slumped into the mattress with a sigh, stretching out like a cat. It was impossible not to watch her, see the curling slope she made with her back, her ass sticking out so roundly then jiggling as she straightened her legs and pushed out her chest. More jiggling. I’d never understood the world’s fascination with boobs until today, her leaking globes causing me to cross my legs trying to stem my own flowing arousal.

There was still barely light out, judging from what I could spy from behind my shuttered blinds. It took me too long to think of picking up my phone to see that it was almost six in the evening. My stomach grumbled about the time of day and it’s emptiness. I needed food. When I looked to Regina, still sprawled across my sheets all soft valleys and climbable peaks, I felt the emptiness between my legs. I need to be stuffed with her fingers or her tongue…

A head shake to clear it, then I went in search of clothes to wear. “Let’s go out!” I suggested brightly. I kind of needed to hear the words myself like I needed convincing to leave the apartment. I had the feeling I wouldn’t manage to feed myself properly if I just stayed so near a bed with the Ring Goddess within arm’s reach. Being in public would **** me to control my newfound urges. Luckily Regina seemed keen on the idea too and slid off the bed.

“Where shall we go, Ringmaster?” she asked, stalking towards me like a panther. I turned away from her allure and blindly tossed her clothes at her. She caught them with her face and the shelf that was her tits. I was barely half-dressed, still pulling on my shorts and another flannel and hopping out of the bedroom.

“Do you like Italian?” I called out behind me, but not looking back.

“I love Italian women!”