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I put my hand to my own pussy and rub, remembering the ferocity of your strap-on assault on it last night. I am still so wet just from the recollection of it.You are on your back, with your legs, hips, and head all slightly twisted to your left. I watch your chest rising and falling—just barely perceptibly—with each inhale and exhale as you sleep.(Unconsciously, my left hand finds its way to my breast. It too is rising and falling, but more heavily as my own breathing quickens.)With the early morning sunlight starting to peak in around the borders of the curtains you picked out, I can survey your impossibly beautiful body. Starting to the foot of our bed, I see you have such cute, delicious toes. Nails painted pink. You know my weakness. A big part of me wants to attack those delicious toes right now, but this is not the time…(My fingers now penetrating my own pussy. And I am struggling to keep from whimpering out loud, from making any sound that would destroy your precious. "Hey," I shouted, trying to be heard over the music, "mind if I camp out here for awhile?"Spencer glanced up. "Come on in," he said. "What's up?" Westy's got a chippie," I said."So?" asked Spencer."So, he wanted a little alone time with her, so I got kicked out for an hour." Ahhh," he said knowingly. He gestured toward Arlen's desk chair and reached for a deck of cards. "How about some gin?" he asked, a glint in his eye. "Penny a point?"Just looking at him, I knew I was in trouble. What the hell, I thought, how much can I lose in just an hour? I nodded.About ninety minutes later, I stumbled from Goldman's room in a little bit of a shock. I was already down over six bucks. Spencer was magnanimous about it."We'll just keep track here in this," he said, pulling a notebook from his bookshelf. He smirked just a little as he carefully wrote down the date and the amount I owed him.I trotted down the three flights of stairs to the third floor, and back to my own room.Westy was there, alone..
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