His Bet
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I was breathing hard. I don't know what is this thing. Her face that pops on my mind became constant after that night. I can't even sleep because of her. And that moment I saw her dancing in the kitchen her arms show off as her hair fall prettily on her angel face doesn't help at all. It kept playing and playing inside my head. My muscles were tensed and hard when I think about her. That I even have to do a hand job to release this fucking heat she has instilled with me. Damn it.
"I'm not your type."
Yes. She's right. She wasn't my type.
Ace.
Jet black hair. Silver gray eyes. Pale white skin. So far of my blonde and tan qualification and yet I just did a fucking hand job thinking her body plastered with mine.
Fuck.
This can't be happening.
Lust. Yes, that's just it. I need to get fucking laid.
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