where to begin? I think about sex. All the time now.” About cocks. Pushing into me. Filling me up. Sliding into my mouth. Hell. “My breasts feel heavy, my nipples…let’s not talk about those.” It brings back the restlessness, makes them tingle, and I cuddle the throw pillow closer. It doesn’t shut me up, though. “I ache. So much that my lower belly hurts. Hell, my freaking thighs feel hot.” Annoyed now, I slap a hand against the mattress. “I find myself dreaming of running my thumbs along those grooves on a guy’s abdomen. The ones formed by those muscles right over their hips. You know the
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