***TEASER!!***
I untie Jerry from the bedposts. Sometimes a woman must make do with what she can find. I found Jerry at the gym, pounding the belt on the treadmill right in front of me. It was a fabulous way to pass the time, watching his ass tighten with each stride. We both worked up a sweat, his from exercise, mine from watching, and I decided that he needed to come home with me.
Jerry is a beautiful man with chocolate brown eyes, a sharp jaw, and a thick mane of hazelnut hair. His body is sinful with sinewy muscles and smooth skin. It’s almost impossible to find anything wrong. Except it isn’t Jerry’s face I see as I straddle him. Instead, my vision is filled with a nameless lover that I had met a couple of months ago in Barbados.
The Barbados stranger with shaggy blond hair and a beard to match has invaded every waking thought. How he smelled. How he tasted. How he felt inside me, stretching me full. The waterfall—I still get goosebumps just thinking about it. That was an experience not offered in the brochure. It’s those memories which have caused me to develop a habit of masturbating. Not to say masturbation is bad, it’s not. It’s healthy even. However, to pleasure one’s self six or seven times a day might border addiction. I was desperate for a cure and thought Jerry could be like a nicotine patch, except for sex.
I was wrong.
Jerry rubs his wrists. “That was…different.”