~Hermes~
The taller one smiles first, with glossy and fake lips, "We’ve prepared something special," she says, running a hand down her thigh like she’s presenting a gift.
The other pushes me down onto the armchair.
She pours vodka into a crystal glass and hands it to me. I take it, then she goes back.
I stare at them as they begin to move — slowly, and sensual. One peels the lace off her shoulders, while the other slides her panties down, one leg at a time, crawling onto the bed like a cat in heat.
My c**k stirs, and I pray my racing mind does too.
All I can think is: If I can’t have the real her, I’ll make her. Two of her, even.
That’ll do the trick. If I ruin the fantasy enough, I’ll finally kill the obsession.
Perhaps if I f**k June out of my system, I’ll stop thinking about her
