I woke up the next morning with my thighs already slick. My p***y was throbbing before I even opened my eyes—swollen, pink, and leaking fresh arousal onto the ruined sheets. The scent of c*m from last night hung heavy in the air. My n*****s were tight peaks, and my c**t pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own. Six more days until James came home. I could survive that… right?
I dragged myself to the bathroom on shaky legs. The full-length mirror showed the truth: my pretty pink p***y lips were puffy and glistening, strings of my creamy wetness stretching between my thighs with every step. I turned on the shower but couldn’t resist. My fingers brushed over my swollen c**t, sending sparks shooting through my core. I circled it slowly, watching in the mirror as more nectar dripped down my i
