Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
As soon as I get his meaning, my eyes are ready to go down, ready to see the evidence.
He’s hard, isn’t he? That’s what he means.
But he doesn’t let me.
“Don’t,” he orders.
“What?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns.
“But I—”
“You’re not putting your hungry fucking eyes on my dick,” he says with his teeth clenched. “And they’re hungry, aren’t they? I can see that. So no, you’re not looking at my dick. You’re keeping them on me and you’re telling me every single thing you’re wearing until my raging boner calms down and I can breathe again. I can breathe and fucking protect you, yeah?”
My breaths are rapid.
And my tits are so heavy in my hands that I can barely lift their weight. I can barely think at all, but for him, I do.
“It’s called a jhumka,” I tell him, referring to my earrings. “It means little bells in Hindi.”
He breathes out loud. “It’s fucking beautiful.”
It doesn’t sound like it from his tone but I understand that he’s trying to calm himself down. Which again makes me want to look down and see, even through his pants, but again, for him, I do as he says.
I tell him about my maang tikka that I’m wearing on my forehead, my big and lavish necklace around my throat. My nose ring that’s called nathini in Hindi that’s usually more extravagant than a normal nose ring with studded gems. I tell him about my henna tattoo, my anklets, my little toe ring that’s called bicchiya in Hindi and again is usually more lavish than normal toe rings.
I list every little thing I’m wearing on my body and when I’m done, I ask, “Any better?”
“What do you think?”
I look at the tight features, beads of sweat on his forehead, and go to wipe them off. But yet again, he stops me. “Don’t.” I open my mouth to protest, but he continues, “Don’t fucking touch me right now. Put your hands back on your tits.”
“But won’t that—”
“Just do it.”
“I think I should cover them up.”
He shakes his head once. “Wouldn’t make a difference.”
“Why not?”
His jaw clenches. “They’re fucking tattooed on my brain.”
I bite my lip at his words. Then, switching gears, I ask, “Is it big?”
He waits for several beats. That I watch him count under his breath. “Do I have a big dick. Is that what you’re asking me?”
I nod.
“That’s not a good question right now.”
I know.
But I can’t stop myself.
I squeeze my tits that I’m still holding, and I begin, “Do you think…”
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think”—I squeeze my tits again—“you could fit it between my tits?”
He remains silent for a few seconds. Then his voice, somehow both threatening and tortured, asks, “Are you asking me if I can titty fuck you?”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
Although what I wanted to ask him was if he could fuck me in the pussy with it and if he did, would it hurt? But I guess I have some decency left in me to not torture him like that.
So I’m asking him the second best thing.
“Yes, Dora,” he says hatefully, “even though my dick is big enough to hurt you, I can still titty fuck you. I can still stick it between your heavy and full tits and fuck them until I do worse than coming on your tits and instead paint your pretty fucking face with my wad. And then I can titty fuck you a second time because my spunk would’ve made you all slippery and juicy, so of course my dick instead of going down will stay up. And I’m not going to take care of it by myself, am I? Not when you have a perfect pair of tits that I can ride to get rid of my hard-on. Not to mention, you also have a perfect pair of bee-stung lips that I’m going to have you part. I’m going to have you keep your mouth open and your tongue out so when I’m humping your tits like a desperate man who hasn’t come in months, when we both know that I just did, so I can mouth fuck you while I’m titty fucking you. Is that enough of an explanation?”
Wordlessly, I nod.
He does another push-up-like thingy, his veins standing taut. “And in case there’s any doubt, I can also pussy fuck you, yeah? Just because my dick is big enough that it’ll hurt even if I simply point it in your direction, I can still fuck your pink little pussy hole. I can also fuck your asshole. But that’s not what we’re doing here, are we? We’re finishing the story. We’re coming full circle and we’re doing it in a very safe and responsible way.”
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmingly sad.
I’m so freaking miserable that this is goodbye.
When we never even got to say hello first.
I know I shouldn’t say it. I know.