I walk out of the club, annoyed. That man has been playing the same game for three weeks, which is why I finished his work early. The sooner I can get away from him, the better. But why did the room smell like Mr.C? Is he back? I know he flew to New York after showing up at my apartment that night.
A night that has haunted my dreams ever since. I can’t stop thinking about him; all I do is masturbate to the memory of fucking him. I open the car door and slip in, the vibrator I’ve had in all pulsates in my car. That smell, I grab my nipples, pinching them as the vibrator works. Anyone can wear the perfume, but that’s his scent; I want him.
“Giovanni.” I moan his name, grabbing the remote increasing the speed. It pulsates faster, harder; I thrust my waist. Shit, I’m cumming.
“Fuck me, Mr.C,” I scream, trembling as the climax shatters my very being. I shake a couple of times, grab the remote decreasing the speed as my breathing slows. I must f**k him, in a week when he comes back, he’s going to finish the job he started that night in my apartment.