Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Hard spurts of semen shot from my dick, coating the inside of her thigh, running down to the sheets underneath her body.
I moaned as I saw it.
I liked her coated in my seed.
It was very caveman of me, but I liked that she was covered in my scent.
“You’re so smart,” she panted, squeezing my dick one last time, milking one last drop of come out of the head of my cock and wiping it on her thigh before letting it go.
I looked up at her eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“I forgot about the whole antibiotic thing. I’m glad you remembered,” she indicated the condom.
I nodded.
“The doctor said it last night,” I said. “Speaking of pills,” I said, picking up the antibiotics that I’d gotten last night and placed them into her hand.
“You think I could wipe your come off my thigh before I take these,” she asked dryly.
I shrugged.
“Sure,” I said, taking the bottle back from her and offering her my hand.
She took it and walked to the bathroom, the soft sway of her hips drawing my attention to her ass…and my come sliding further down her leg.
I took a hold of my cock and squeezed it harshly, willing it down.
I couldn’t take her again.
I had to get to a continuing ED class that the fire department was making mandatory, and for some stupid reason Masen was going to work.
“Are you going to work?” I asked in exasperation, when she kept looking at her watch.
She looked up from where she was wiping the come off her leg and nodded.
“I am,” she said. “I need to get paid. And to get paid, I have to work. I have to pay off my credit card bill. Although they pinch, there’s no reason not to work. It was my fat, not muscle. There’s no logical reason I can’t.”
I blinked.
“Your credit card bill is high?” I licked my lips worriedly.
Her family had always had a lower income than mine, and I’d felt bad constantly that she couldn’t come out because she didn’t have any money to get to me.
Now she didn’t even have a vehicle to drive.
“Not really, no,” she said, dropping the rag she’d used into my hamper and walking towards me.
I stopped her before she could wrap her arms around me, and I carefully bent down and examined her skin.
She’d peeled off the bandage as well, revealing the wound in her abdomen that had twelve stitches in it to keep it closed.
“Not too bad,” I observed while looking at it.
She worked her hands into my hair and pulled until I was looking up at her.
“You down on your knees like that is giving me ideas,” her eyes were lit with the possibilities. “How about you get up and let me get dressed so you can take me by my place?”
I narrowed my eyes at her and stood, allowing her to walk around me.
She picked up the shirt I’d put her in last night, slipping it on over her head and taking a seat on the bed, looking for the panties that I’d taken off her this morning.
“Where’d you throw them?” She looked around the room.
I took a cursory glance around my room.
“No clue,” I said. “Just slip on my boxers and we’ll drive to your place. You can get new ones.”
She rolled her eyes but did what I said, and I took the time to slip into jeans and a long sleeved Henley.
I came out of my closet to find her wearing a pair of my socks and her shoes that she’d had on the night before.
They were stained slightly with blood, but not bad enough that anyone but her and me knew what it was.
It looked like mud if you didn’t know what you were looking at.
“You look cute,” I said on a smile.
She winked at me.
“Your clothes were always comfier than mine,” she agreed. “I’m ready when you are.”
I nodded as I grabbed my keys and wallet off the table, stuffed them into my pockets, and grabbed her pills as I walked out of my bedroom door.
I found her in the kitchen with a glass of orange juice in her hands.
She held out her hand for the bottle, then walked to the counter where her purse was.
She took out a pink compact, popped out what I suspected were her birth control pills, and threw it into her mouth before chasing it down with a sip of juice.
“That’s a horse pill,” she muttered as she opened the bottle of antibiotics.
“Not that bad,” I confided, taking a travel mug out of my sink, rinsing it out, and stuffing it under the coffee pot.
Once I had it situated, I filled it up with coffee, popped the lid on and turned to face Masen.
She looked hilarious in my old gray Pepsi t-shirt, boxer shorts that I hadn’t worn in well over ten years and long socks that came up to her knees.