Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
As I stop on the threshold of his bedroom, I feel weightless and itchy and excited.
What is going to happen in here?
What am I going to see?
I don’t know, but I feel totally safe to explore. To watch. How rare is that? This opportunity to learn about sex might never arise again and I want to take advantage. Furthermore, I want to watch this sweet, noble farmer find pleasure. I want to watch his strong body succumb to lust right in front of my very eyes. I’ve never been turned on by the idea of a man touching himself. Doing it alone. But with Dusty, I can barely leash my anticipation.
“Do you usually sit on the bed?” I whisper back at him.
His attention is fastened to my butt, his breath beginning to come in quick bursts. “I…uh. Yes. Sometimes.”
With a nod, I enter the bedroom and flip on the small bedside lamp, chewing my lip, watching him lumber over to the bed. Before he sits down, he unhooks the remaining strap of his overalls, both buckles sagging between his thighs. “You don’t mind if I take these off?”
“No, I don’t mind,” I say, trying not to sound too eager.
Dusty grunts, kicks off his muddy boots and, with one final, measuring look in my direction, pushes the overalls down to his knees.
For the first time in my life, I can feel my pulse behind my eyes.
Between my legs.
Everywhere.
At the sight of this large man with his overalls around his knees—and not a stitch more—my entire body launches back a step, rattling the lamp on the bedside table. My nipples twist into tight, little beads and the breath in my throat skyrockets in temperature. No, my temperature rises throughout my whole body, scorching my skin.
He’s gigantic.
His butt and hips and thighs are thick. Muscled and hairy and male. He’s built like a bull. Broad. So broad and teeming with strength. That part of him sticking straight up from the middle of his lap…I can barely form a thought when I see it. The balls are the size of two balled up fists held side by side, mottled and heavy. The shaft curves upward, the big, shiny tip pointing at his stomach, a vein pulsing on the underside. All of him is surrounded by a pelt of black hair. No manscaping here. He’s an all-natural animal and his untouched nature, his coarse masculinity calls to something ageless inside of me. Something raw.
Potent.
“Do you want to start?” I whisper, breathlessly, surprised by the urge to squeeze my breasts. To pluck at my own nipples. I’ve never been compelled to touch them before. Not in a way that wasn’t purely functional. On the rare occasions that I touch myself to find pleasure, I just get to the point. No frills, no wasting time. Even when I reach my peak, it’s rarely satisfying.
Something tells me watching Dusty climax will be better than reaching my own.
“Yes, ma’am,” he grunts, that thick backside planting on the edge of the bed. With an almost shy look in my direction, he wraps a fist around that huge stalk of flesh and begins to pump. “I don’t reckon this is going to take very long,” he chokes.
Denial surges inside of me. I don’t want it to be over fast.
This big, beautiful farmer giving himself pleasure is the single most arresting sight I’ve ever been privileged to witness. I want this experience to go on for a while.
“Slow down,” I say softly, crossing the room.
What am I doing? I don’t know. But it feels right. I’m just letting myself feel.
To embrace what this man inspires in me.
“Slow down?” he echoes through his teeth. “I…can’t.”
“You?” I can’t seem to stop my hands from reaching out, stroking over the hard packed muscles of his shoulders, feeling the ripple beneath my fingertips. “I think you could do anything.”
“I’d do anything for you, darlin’.”
“Would you?” There’s something new and exciting unfurling inside of me. I’m an actress, so of course I love being the center of attention. But no attention has ever been as intoxicating as Dusty’s. I want to seduce, entice…tease. I want to be an active part of the pleasure he’s giving himself. “Would you let me borrow a shirt for bed?”
“Yes. Yes,” he answers hoarsely. “Anything you want.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, crossing the room to his antique dresser, sliding open the middle drawer, correctly guessing where he keeps his shirts. I select one from the top, laying it out on the surface of the piece of furniture.
And then I start to unzip the side of my bustier. Slowly.
Watching him through my lashes while I expose an inch of flesh at a time, before letting the top drop heavily to the ground, leaving my breasts free. Naked. Pouting.
“Sweet Jesus, what are you doing?” Dusty growls, his eyes flaring at the sight of my bare chest, that hand stopping at his balls to massage and twist them.