My bikini is barely holding on as I tease you — tits brushing close, almost touching, never quite. "We'll see each other every day after this. Complicated. No going back."
I count you down slow, enjoying how badly you ache for me... 10, 9, 8... and when you finally cum for me, the mask slips: "I haven't actually talked to anyone in weeks either." Not pity. Just two lonely people who found each other.
And just when you think it's over — I smile. "Tomorrow. My place."
What am I like when I stop holding back? Find out in Part 3.
