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It’snotFreddie and his stern, commanding voice.

And it’s certainlynotthe thought of Rush’s cock in that tight-ass underwear, all hard and pronounced in its sizable pouch.

I try to push the thoughts away, but it’s no use. As my hands travel over my skin, washing my body, my pussy throbs for relief. And I know the only way to truly relieve myself of this ache is to take care of it.

I feel guilty as fuck, but I’m in here alone. It’s not like anyone can hear me. And maybe if I stay quiet, just focus on the task at hand, I’ll feel better. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

So I slide one shaking hand down my torso and slip one finger inside myself. The relief is almost instant as I let out a low moan. I’m soaked. Just like my panties were.

I can’t remember a time when I wasthiswet without stimulation.

Sex with Brett wasn’t bad by any means, but usually it took a good bit of foreplay for me to get slick enough to take him. I slide a second finger in, and there’s barely any resistance, so I slide a third in.

My legs shake as the ecstasy forms in my stomach, in my loins.

I close my eyes instinctively and spread my legs a bit more to ground myself as I brace one hand on the tile wall and rock my hips forward.

Then back.

Forward, then back.

The relief feels too good to stop, so I continue, letting my mind wander to places it shouldn’t.

Rush’s thick cock bulging in that tight underwear.

Freddie whispering, “Good girl” in my ear as he thrusts himself inside me.

Filling me with his cum.

I gasp as the orgasm hits me out of nowhere like a damn hockey puck to the face. My pussy spasms around my fingers, my legs shaking as that crescendo hits, as I imagine being filled.

“Oh, fuck,” I curse, feeling every pulse, every clench of my pussy, my thoughts a wild mess of things I know I shouldnotbe thinking about, given present circumstances.

I lean against the tile, groaning with relief and frustration. I pull my fingers out, my pussy still clenching around an imaginary thickness. Trying to soak up what doesn’t exist. What isn’t real.

And it’s never going to be real.

And then, because misery loves to torment me, I think about Brett. About his pulsing cock, deep within that woman. Filling her.

It’s possible she could be on birth control and might not be pregnant.

But still…it’s the principle of the matter.

Brett Sterling was so adamant we use condoms because hedidn’twant to get me pregnant, and I just…thought he was being caring. A good partner. Even though I wanted to try, I was willing to wait—until we got married. I was willing to do that because I loved him, and now…

Now I’m in his brother’s shower, pleasuring myself to the thought of his brothers giving me what I want.

I bang my head on the shower tile.

All I’ve ever wanted is a family of my own. And I thought I’d found the right man to build that with, and now it’s gone. Like it was never mine in the first place.

I finish up my shower as the water goes cold.

Guilt ransacks me now that the euphoria is gone. Now that I’ve sated my guilty desires and thoughts.

So I shut the water off and dry myself off, toweling my hair and raking my hands through it to get the tangles out. I slip Rush’s boxers on—they’re smooth against my skin and though his hips are bigger, they fit nicely because they’re so tight.

I try not to think about the fact that I was just fantasizing about his cock in these things.