“Urrgh,” I say out loud. Don’t ask me what I was trying to say because I have no fucking idea. My mind is in a state of paralysis as my orgasm rips through me and I shoot out spurt after spurt of thick, viscous cum out of my cock and onto the floor.
I’m panting as electric shocks of pleasure race through my body and by the time I’m done I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep holding onto the phone.
Ashley is waiting on the other end of the line. I can sense a smile on her voice as she speaks to me.
“Can I touch myself, now, King?” she asks.
Fuck me. I’m going fucking crazy for this girl.
Ashley
It’s a pleasant evening and I look out toward the Hudson River from where Arsen and I are sitting at dinner. We’re at an outdoor restaurant called Southwest New York that serves Tex-Mex near the South Street Seaport. With our table literally right next to the water, it's been a pleasant evening.
I look at Arsen. He’s staring back at me.
God, he’s so freakin hot. I swear, just staring into his smoldering eyes is enough to get my panties wet. The way those eyes seem to look into my soul. The way that face is shaped—it’s so lean and tight. And then there’s that body. You’ve heard me go on and on about his body before, I know, but it’s so good it’s worth saying again and again. If I could, I’d tell everyone I know. I mean, I wouldn't tell my Dad or anything, but aside from him, I’d shout from the rooftops how much I enjoyed Arsen’s bulging biceps, his 8-pack abs that are oh so defined, his powerful legs, his wonderful pecs, or his strong back.
But while his body is great to run my hands over and lick, I think what is completely unforgettable is basically that 12-inch cock that dangles from his legs. When that thing gets hard, I can barely wrap my hands around it. It’s as thick as my wrist. And it's so painfully delicious when it stretches my insides out.
“What are you thinking?” Arsen asks me, reaching across the table and taking my hand. I can see the tattoos go up and down his arm. “Tell me.”
I take his hand and smile at him. I’ve never had a man sit across from dinner and ask me what I’m thinking. To take an interest the way that Arsen has.
He’s wealthy, cute, and considerate.
How is it that I'm not head over heels in love with this guy?
I can’t believe I’m sitting here complaining to you about this. I must sound like the world’s most spoiled girl or something.
But it’s true; I can't say that I’m in love with Arsen. And I know the one major reason for that.
Henry. Client 5.
It’s been
two days since the last time we spoke at noon. Two days since I’ve heard his powerful, commanding voice. A voice that basically says fuck the world—these are his rules and you can either obey them or get off the bus. Two days since he basically made me his over the phone.
Do you want to know something? I haven't told anyone yet, because I’ve kept it a secret.
Two days ago, when we were together on the phone, when he told me he wasn’t going to let me touch myself, I got so turned on just listening to himself telling me what I could or couldn't do. When he forced me to call him “sir” or “master” or "king," and started telling me to imagine Lower Manhattan and imagine his cock and how it would feel to have him plunge into and out of me, I swear to God I was dripping wet. I was panting. I could tell my heart rate had increased just from hearing his voice.
But that’s not what I have to tell you.
What I have to tell you is this. As I got him off with my words, it was turning me on like nothing else too—to the point where listening to my words and the effect it was having on him was only making me hungry to hear more. When he finally came, my body was a quivering mess. I hadn’t been allowed to touch myself and it was like desire was overwhelming every aspect of my body.
When King Henry finally let me touch myself, I desperately brought my fingers to my clit underneath my panties. And it took me maybe five seconds and three flicks before I exploded.
That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last 48 hours. What kind of a man can get me so keyed up, so on the brink already, that it took absolutely nothing to push me over the edge?
It’s like he can make me cum with just the sound of his voice.
You’re probably shaking your head at me. Thinking I’m just a stupid little girl, but I swear to God, I honestly think that if he wanted to, he could get me to cum just by talking to me.
But it's not just about cumming. He said something to me the last time we talked. He talked about how his Dad would take him out to the Empire State Building to give him a view of the city. Telling him that anything was possible. It sounds almost like…
“It’s like you’re a million fucking miles away,” Arsen says again and I snap back to reality.
I shake my head and smile at him.