Derek’s flight landed at 11:40 p.m. on Sunday.
I was still on the mat when the text came through. Reid had left twenty minutes earlier. The plug was seated deep. His third load of the weekend was warm around it, mixed with the two from Saturday and the one from Friday night. My sports bra was damp with sweat. The mat under me was streaked. I hadn’t cleaned any of it yet.
Finally on the ground. Be home in an hour. You okay?
I stared at the message, cunt throbbing, and typed back with steady fingers.
Fine. Gym’s a mess. I’ll clean it.
Reid’s text arrived before I could stand.
He’s landing. Don’t clean up yet. Send the pic. Then plug stays in until he f***s you. I want him sliding through all of it. If you wash anything out before he does, I cancel every session starting Monday and he l
