Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
He throws a meaningful glance at the bed. “There are ways to get to know each other that don’t involve words.”
I reach over and feel his perfect cock through his pants. “In that case, I’d like you to get to know me a lot better.”
Chapter 24
Ashton
“That was hot,” Kendall says as she’s lying in my arms after I give her three more “get to know each other” orgasms.
“Let’s not use the h-word,” I say, feeling on the verge of panting like a dog. “Also banned are: balmy, boiling, scorching, and sweltering.”
With a laugh, she jumps off the bed, still gloriously naked, and pours each of us a glass of water.
I drain my glass in one gulp. “I think we should hang our clothes to block the windows.” I point at the one that the sun shines through. “Especially that one.”
She agrees, so I fetch the dried clothes and use them as curtains with the help of the hammer I found and a few nails I salvage from the floorboards.
“I feel cooler already,” Kendall says sarcastically. “Now what?”
I rub my stomach. “Lunch?” We need plenty of electrolytes given our situation.
“What do you have in mind? Porridge?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat something warm again.” Except maybe her sweet pussy, of course. “I’m thinking of munching on nuts and resoaked fruit. What about you?”
“Same,” she says. “But with some M&Ms for dessert.”
We spend some time separating the trail mix once more while chatting about our lives in New York. After we’ve managed to fill an entire glass with M&Ms, Kendall eyes them and wonders out loud why they aren’t melting.
“Great question,” I say. “Probably because despite how it feels, it’s not yet as hot in here as it would be in your mouth.” And her mouth is the hottest place on the planet, or at least the hottest place I’ve had my cock visit.
“Hmm,” she says. “Why do they melt in your mouth but not in your hand?”
I shrug. “Hands are colder?”
“Not by that much,” she says. “I suspect the coating must have something to do with it. When I hold regular chocolate, especially the cheap milk kind, it does melt in my hands.”
“I guess we’ll know we’re in trouble if this stuff starts to melt,” I tell her. “Hydrate extra if it happens.”
“So… what do we do now?” she asks.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” I suggest, and my cock twitches.
He clearly has a better idea of what to do, even if it’s not original.
“Prepare to be massacred.” Kendall forms a tight fist. “I’m so good at this game I could get paid for it.”
I also make a fist. “Would you also say that you’d ‘make money hand over fist?’”
She groans. “One, two, three.”
She throws paper, and I throw rock.
“See?” she says.
“Beginner’s luck. Let’s go again.”
She grins mischievously. “Care to make this more interesting?”
I gesture at my naked torso. “Before you say strip rock, paper, scissors, remember that we don’t have much on.”
“I was actually going to suggest that the loser do a service for the winner,” she says. “It can be sexual but doesn’t have to be.”
“Deal.” Someone needs to give me some paper to help with the rock that my cock has just turned into. “What favor do you want if you win?”
She looks thoughtful. “A massage. And you?”
“Oh, you don’t need to beat me for that. I’d be happy to oblige.”
“You didn’t think this through,” she says. “I’ll be naked, and you’ll get very horny—but I want the massage to last for an hour, and for you to use both hands, meaning you can’t jerk off or anything like that the whole time.”
Oh. “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll just have to make sure not to lose.”
She moistens her lips. “And what do you want on the off chance you manage to win?”
“Also a massage. But in my version, you can’t use your hands.”
“How then?”
“You can slide your breasts down my back, or use your feet, or—”
“Got it,” she says. “Obviously, that’s purely hypothetical as I don’t plan to lose.”
“Me neither.”
“On three,” she says and counts it down.
She throws rock, and I throw scissors.
“Loser,” she taunts. “Come, service me.”
She sashays over to the bed, takes off her bra and panties, and sprawls there, her shapely ass in the air. “Remember, you owe me an hour.”
“Fine.” I play “The Four Seasons” on my phone again to help her relax before walking over to the bed, at which point I have to fight the urge to take her from behind, hard.
“Here goes.” My hand touches her warm skin, and my dick wants to howl at the moon.
“Yes,” she murmurs as I knead her shoulders. “Just like that.”
How is it that I’m going this crazy for her? It’s not for lack of sex. In fact, the last time I came as much as I have in the past twenty-four hours was when I discovered jerking off as a teen.