Betty
.
.
Trent's hands flew to my lips, pressing hard against them. “Shhhhhs.” His eyes darted around the apartment.
“There is no around,” I muttered through my stifled lips.
He paused for a while, before pulling his hands away. “I forgot,” he said, “your mother isn’t around.” His eyes glinted mischievously, just like they had in the pool.
Memories of that day flooded my mind. His hands inside my p***y, the way he finger f****d me, the way his c**k throbbed beneath my palm. I told myself to stop, but my mind refused to oblige. It wandered, wondering how his c**k would actually feel. Would it be as warm as his finger?
My clit tingled, that sweet warmth slipping into my veins.
But then I remembered my mother’s warnings, how she could lose her job, so I fought to drown the images.
