Good Pet

But right now, I’m feeling on top of the world. And incredibly horny.

By the time I get up to my front door, get the lock undone, and myself into my condo, I’m raging. I’ve got a pussy that needs tending to, now.

And that’s all because of Tommy, I think, feeling terrified and happy about that at the same time. Because of the way I imagine him being with me and to me, because I was there for him. Because I came to his rescue. I quickly shut and lock my front door behind me, making plans to go to my bedroom. The place where I love to work these kinds of things out. I know I shouldn’t be having those thoughts about him! I shouldn’t be thinking about Tommy that way. How cute he is, how he would say things to me, what he would say… I don’t even know if he’s interested, but I can’t help it!

With these thoughts, I quickly make my way to my favorite chair in my favorite part of my bedroom — the part that’s been made over into a small reading area. It’s been styled to look like a parlor or a smoking room from early Victorian England, but better. More books, less cigar smoke. Once in my favorite chair, I unzip the front of my pants, unbutton them, slide them and my panties down my legs, and set myself free.

I began to touch myself, wishing Dennis was here. Wishing he decided to stay in America with me and that he didn’t make me feel so bad about my choices. As I start to make small circles around my clit with my fingers, I remember the first time he came to my defense like that — the same way I came to Tommy’s.

He put himself in the firing line when, at a club, I was being harassed by guys, a whole gaggle of them who decided they had nothing better to do than harass me. Me, out of all the other women there. It was because I was particularly feminine and sexy looking that night. I wore a lot of makeup in a pinup style, and these guys were more than willing to make my life a living hell because of it. They just didn’t want to take no as an answer.

I make faster circles around myself, thinking about how masculine and macho Dennis looked. How tough and menacing he appeared that night, despite his model-worthy looks. I start to stroke myself up and down my folds, remembering all of that. The way he looked at me later on in that night, when I showed him my nude body.

We were in the bathroom, with me practically puking up my guts. Someone had offered us a bit of Molly, and I’d taken it, but it didn’t work with the alcohol. They say it’s the “love everybody” drug, and I guess that must really be true because I fell head over heels for him that night.

The head he gave me while I sat on the toilet, that was amazing. The first of many amazing sexual encounters. But that was the most memorable because he actually said I made adorable noises. Moans and whimpers like a little angel and a choir or something.

I’m making those sounds again. I can hear them drifting into my ears from my throat, but that’s when my fantasy switches suddenly from Dennis to Tommy. And I’ve traded places with Dennis. The whole thing has turned traitorously upside down on me, but I’m too into it to care or to stop myself from daydreaming in this way.

I’m the one on my knees giving a blow job over a toilet, but it’s not Dennis I’m giving it to. It’s Tommy, though he’s wearing Dennis’s clothes from that evening: a handsome, bright silk shirt. It’s made of blue and gold thread and paired with black slacks, shoes, and socks. On Tommy, this ensemble is to die for. Sure, he’s bulkier, but he looks princely still and refined. Worthy of being loved and protected. Something that his shabby clothes take away from him.

From under the “tails” of the blue silk shirt, and the edge of these fine, black slacks, I imagine Tommy’s thick cock rising out of it and filling the space fully. It’s like Dennis’s cock. It’s big, hefty.

I feel myself rubbing the nub of my clit faster and harder, but to go along with the images in my head, I imagine what Tommy’s cock feels like as I take it in my mouth. As I stretch my lips around it and start giving him a good time, I imagine how full it makes me. How far and completely it stretches my lips and my cheeks, and how there is almost not enough room for my tongue to lick and tickle it, but I manage.