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You told yourself you were making sure everything was all right. You saw some movement in the area of the bed, and realized it was me. You saw me as I walked from the bathroom to the bed and lay down. The lights were on in the room, so there was no mistaking what you saw. You put your head close to the door frame and looked more closely, and you could make out clearly that I was lying on the bed, wearing a pair of grey, cotton gym shorts, and a red t-shirt. I had white athletic socks on, but no. Now.” He motioned me to follow him and I figured, what the hell. I’d slept with high school guys that I liked less. I mean, he was old—at least forty—but I could survive being poked again. He took me to the motel first and waited in his truck while I collected my meagre possessions. I tossed them in the backseat and buckled up.He took me on a quick tour of Minneapolis, pointing out his various properties. They were mostly old brick, three-story, apartment buildings. Each building had eight. The driver stopped and got out to open the door for her agent and me. I stepped out and looked around. I just had to take in the moment for a minute. I began to pop sweat even more. "Follow me, Mr. Fidello," Contessa's agent said. I fell into his footsteps until he showed me to a room filled with photographic mementos of Contessa's porn career. The one that stood out most was the photo hanging over the fireplace. It was the most fantastic shot of Contessa with her legs spread, her pussy pushing. I could taste his man tasted and he was salty like a pretzel. Otis just stood there like an oak tree and looked down at me worshiping his cock. He was magnificent and we hadn't even exchanged a word, who needed words when there was something this magnificent available just for me. A fleeting though ran through my mind, I wondered if my pussy could accommodate his monster. I could imagine the exquisite pain that it would cause as it parted me. I wondered if he would kill me with a thrust. Before.
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