“Fine,” I manage thickly, remembering how my come looked dripping down his diamond cut abs. Dammit. I fucked up. I went too far. Now I’m cursed with the memory of how good it felt to release on his unblemished skin. Just like I’m cursed with the memory of how tight and wet Wendy felt sitting on my dick. How her small tongue felt tickling mine, her little hips pumping hungrily in my lap. Jesus, between Klay and Wendy, the pike in my pants is never going to subside. I’m a downed power line, sparking and dancing on the sidewalk, in need of repair and they’re the only ones who can help me.
