I dropped my arms. “I know, I know. I was just kidding.” I gave the camera a little shimmy and watched the tops of my tits jiggle in the demi bra while Brad stared and smiled.
“Mmm, you’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?”
He sounded disappointed, but I switched his meaning, reached up and slid a bra strap off my shoulder. “Isn’t that the way you like it?” I angled forward so he could stare at my cleavage. “Hard?”
“Shit,” he cleared his throat and sat up straight in the bed. “God, you’re hot.”
“I know,” I slipped the other strap free of my shoulders; “it’s so hot here.” I put my hands on either side of the bra and rolled the fabric forward until my nipples were free.
“Ohh…” Brad’s face looked like he was pain. He reached down and straightened the tumescence in his shorts.
I pulled the fabric down until my breasts were completely exposed. “Do you like that?” I said playfully.
“Oh yeah,” he nodded emphatically.
I pressed my arms in from the side, smooshing my tits together while I put on my sexiest pouty lips. “You should have fucked me before you left,” I whined.
“I don’t disagree. God, you are so fucking hot.”
I leaned back against the wall, reached up, and tugged on my left nipple until I moaned. “That should be your mouth.”
Brad reached down and put his hand on his hardon. “I wish it was,” he adjusted himself again while he stared at me through the phone.
“Go ahead,” I said playfully, “pull it out. Let me see that monster fuck stick.”
I barely got the words out of my mouth before Brad had shimmied out of his shorts and wrapped his thick fingers around his massive cock.
Now, I should tell you, I have thing for cock. It started when I was young. Sometime before I was ten, I had figured out that touching myself felt nice. I mean, I am pretty sure all girls figure that out about that time, but I went a step further. I guessed that if touching it felt nice, shoving things into it felt better. And, guess what? I was right.
So, I followed the logical train of thought. I started exploring my pussy and inn my pursuit of deep, satisfying orgasms, I found all kinds of things to use as dildoes – candle sticks, vegetables, I could even cum working the edge of a desk in a pinch. (I think I lost my virginity to the decorative candle holder my mom had in the hall closet.) But it wasn’t until high school that I really started to understand my devotion.
I didn’t just like a good stiff cock, I didn’t just want it to fill and fuck me – I wanted to worship it. I loved everything about a hard dick, the shape, the feel, and of course its purpose. I became devoted to pleasing them.
Brad’s cock was one of the largest, real ones I had ever speared myself on. It wasn’t terribly long, a solid 7, maybe 7 ½ inches, but it was thick, like three fingers thick, a tree trunk of hot, hard flesh.
I stared at the screen and watched Brad’s fingers move up and down the shaft. I felt a lump in my chest. I can’t explain how much I wanted to be there. Instinctively, I reached down between my legs and slid my hand into my panties. My pussy was soaking wet.
“Brad, here’s the…” A man’s voice came through my phone and Brad flew off the bed, knocking the phone over so that it fell face down. “Brad? What are you…Jesus, son, put some fucking clothes on.”
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