Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“That’s it, babe. Show me more, Josie,” I grunt into the quiet truck, my breathing heavy as my balls tighten, and I get one more surprise. “Move closer, baby, show me more.” The light behind her illuminates the shape of her curves, slim shoulders, tits that would fit perfectly in the palm of my hands, hips that flare out, the tiny piece of fabric covering her pussy, and when her hands travel to her sides, slowly edging the fabric down her hips, I lick my lips. If I were in the room with her, I’d be in a chair, legs spread out, giving me room to work my cock. Her eyes would be on mine, and when she tears down her panties, I’d be out of my chair, walking her backwards until she was flat on her back, legs spread, my shoulders keeping her wide open as I get my first taste of what I know will be heaven on earth. The last time she came with me pressing her body up against a wall, clothes were involved, and it was over before I wanted it to end. If it weren’t for Wes, I would have had her on the vanity, clothes off, her hands pulling at the knot of my towel, and I’d be fucking her without a care in the world. It didn’t happen, but man, if it had, there wouldn’t have been eleven long years without her in my presence.
“Fuck, yeah, Josie.” She’s completely bare as she turns around. One hand is working my shaft, the other clamped down on the steering wheel. I watch as she bends down, and fuck my life, the woman is begging for me to zip my pants, storm out of my truck, knock down her good-for-nothing door, and give her the surprise of a lifetime.
A virtual stranger with a secret obsession.
I lose sight of Josie as she walks away. My head tips back as I conjure up another fantasy, one with her on her knees, lips swollen from sucking my cock, eyes wet with tears from taking my cock, mascara running down her cheeks along with it. I tug on my cock again, up and down, twisting with each stroke. “Josie.” She takes my cock to the back of her throat, gagging on my length, pulling back. A string of saliva comes with it, and fuck if that isn’t a turn-on either. Every single thing about the blonde-haired beauty has me wanting fucking everything—her mouth, her hand, her cunt, her ass. I want it all. My balls tighten, my spine tingles, body locking up, and I’m coming, spilling all over my damn hand instead of on Josie’s firm body.
“Goddamn it all to hell.” I didn’t think things through. A napkin would be handy right about now. Instead, I’ve got my right hand, which is virtually useless with cum all over it, so I do the next best thing—I pull my shirt off. Driving home without one isn’t a big deal, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere besides there anyways. I make quick work of dealing with the mess, do up my pants, and start my truck. I’ve spent enough time here lately. If I do it too much longer, with the right nosey neighbor, the cops will be called, and I’ll be locked up for the man I’m becoming when it has anything to do with Josie, a damn stalker.
“Soon, Josie, soon,” I tell the now darkened window. She must have gone to bed once I finally shot my shot. A damn shame, too. I’d give about anything for one more glance of her perfect body. Instead, I toss my shirt to the passenger seat and put my truck in gear, keeping my headlights off until I’m out of the driveaway, not wanting to let the lights shine into Josie’s house, or her neighbors’. Waking up everyone is the last thing I need, even if it pisses me the fuck off that I’m leaving Josie. Come tomorrow, I won’t ever do it again.
13
JOSIE
Why is it that when you’re a woman, or maybe it’s for men as well, there’s a weird obsessive need to clean your house before someone comes over? Work schmork. I’ve abandoned the task for another late night of work. Lately, it seems the early mornings, or later nights, whichever you prefer to call it, are the only time my creativity strikes. Maybe burnout is hitting, an absolute shit show when the mood strikes, and it’s not a good one. No amount of walking away, cleaning, going for a walk, and giving myself an orgasm or three helps. I really do not have the time for this either, especially with everything that needs to happen around here. Instead of pushing through it, I decided to paint the downstairs bathroom. I had enough primer to cover the once putrid green color, which did nothing for the light pink tile along the back of the walls. The white sink and toilet make it glaringly obvious of the halfway remodeling they once did. It’s okay because while some may not like the flamboyant tile, I do, and I’m going to work around it.