Later that day Lily masturbated while she thought about sucking Trevor’s dick. She could hardly imagine wanting to do anything else. She thought she could do it every day, extracting an ocean of cum from an army of cocks. Now that she’d had a taste of it, she wanted more. She wanted men to want her. She wanted to make them feel good. To make them feel the way she did when the orgasm ripped through her body.
That night in bed, before drifting off to a dream-filled sleep, she imagined being fucked by Trevor while she masturbated again. To feel his pulsing manhood within her, to cum screaming impaled on his stiff cock. While she slept, she relived the previous day’s events, dreaming of cumming so much in the laundry room that she was carried away on a flood of her own juices.
It was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly a side of her that had been suppressed for years behind a barricade of obligations and labor and responsibilities had been exposed to the light. It grew rapidly, like a tangle of blackberry thorns, spreading out to swarm over everything around it. Her dreams were restless and she woke up horny. She masturbated again lazily, and nearly went back to sleep until she realized that she had to go to work soon.