Her pictures line my wall – years of carnal desire and adoration for my beautiful girl. She’s my favorite piece of art.
She owns me.
I watch – harden – as her pink vibrator disappears between her legs, her back arching off the bed. Her morning orgasmic performances are my absolute joy. The way she moves and slides and touches her wet cunt leaves me aching.
I snap my pictures, zooming precisely until I can easily see where her skin is raised with the shiver of her arousal. The way her mouth falls open and the moan pours from her throat is enough to set me off. I unzip my fly, quickly pulling out my dick and pumping in time with her hand’s movements. Thank fuck for tripods.
When she comes, flushed and pink, so do I – sticky and messy all over my black shirt. I know what’s coming. His name is a whimper on her breath; it always is.
I tuck my flaccid cock away and stand from the bed, switching off the mic feed from her apartment. Her photos cover one wall and his another – each with a red bullseye. She’s mine and soon enough he’s going to know.