Page 25 of Driftwood Daffodil

A second later my phone was filled with the image of a big fake dick. Behind that I could see Darry’s dad, with his eyes closed and mouth open. I personally didn’t have anything against the guy. As far as dad’s went he was decent.

He showed up to school meetings and coached Darry’s younger brother’s little league team, which was more than most made men. I should probably feel guilty for fucking his wife. But I didn’t.

Me: Did Dom take his pills?

Dominic Barone had problems sleeping.

Carissa: Yes, an hour ago.

Sucking in a deep breath, I tipped my head up to the sky. I couldn’t do this. Carissa needed to fuck off and go bother someone else. Then again, it wasn’t like I was actually touching her. I’d just be watching. It would be like a quick fix. How smokers cut back before stopping. There wasn’t anything wrong with that.

My phone vibrated in my hand drawing my eyes back down her lips wrapped around the head of the Manhandler.

Don’t do it Gio, don’t respond.

Me: Just the tip? You can do better than that.

Fuck.

I told myself I wouldn’t reply this time. Then a video came through.

Carissa was sucking it back like a pro, while moaning how good I tasted. But it was the gagging that made me pull my cock out and start stroking.

Carissa: Do you want more?

Yes I wanted more, I fucking hated myself for it.

Me: What the fuck do you think?

She must’ve been waiting because the instant I hit send, her next text came through.

Carissa: Well, I want to see you.

Fuck that. Sexting was one thing. I was not getting on a video call.

Me: Too bad.

Carissa: Fine, then I’m not sending anymore.

Fuck her. Concentrating on the video, I jerked my shaft. I didn’t need her to finish.

Carissa: My pussy’s so wet, I wish you could see.

God damnit.

My cock ached at the possibility of seeing what she was doing. Was she riding her hand while sucking the toy, or was she shoving that thing deep inside her.

“Fuck!” I snarled and hit the video button.

Almost instantly Carissa’s bright blue eyes fluttered back at me.

“Are you fucking happy?”

“Yes,” she sang way too innocently. “You look frustrated.”

“No shit.” I barked back.

The tone of her voice pissed me off more than the fake pout on her lips.

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