Page 55 of Rust

I tossed my phone aside. I closed my eyes and imagined Rust, in his hotel at this very moment, his hand wrapped around his big dick, as he stroked it to my pictures. I writhed in the hockey player’s bed and moaned his name, my finger circling my swollen clit faster and faster.

“Rust!” I moaned, my body quaking in blissful climax.

When I returned to my senses, I picked up my phone. A text from Rust was waiting for me.

“Look what you made me do.”He’d sent a picture of the aftermath of his self-indulgence. His spent cock laid atop his muscular thigh. He’d drenched his six-pack abs with cum, and shot streaks of cream all the way up his stacked and sizzling chest.

“So. Fucking. Hot,” I wrote, smashing the tongue emoji button over and over. “I wish I was there to clean you up.”

“What about you? Did you cum?

“Yes.”

“Did you make a mess like I wanted?”

I lifted my bottom. There was a tiny damp spot beneath me.

“Only a little,” I answered.

“Show me.”

Damn, Rust was a freak! I liked it, though. Freaky beats boringanyday of the week.

“Let’s leave a little something to the imagination,” I said, and added a stuck-out tongue face.

“Such a tease.”He laughed.“Hey, I gotta run. Time to head to the rink.”

“Good luck tonight!!!!”

I slid under the covers and snuggled up in Rust’s bed, his smell all around me. With a smile on my face, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me away.