BANNER: Okeydokey.
* * *
A few days later
BANNER:How about a boat? Maybe a yacht. That’s a weird word. Yacht. I had to autocorrect it.
MYSEXYMAN:The only boats we have any use for here are bass boats.
BANNER: Bass boat doesn’t have the same ring to it as yacht. Shit. I spelled it wrong again! Thank you, autocorrect. If I can’t spell it, I probably shouldn’t own one.
MYSEXYMAN: Why would you want a yacht to begin with?
BANNER:I was watching this Discovery Channel thing on mega-yachts, and all the cool kids have them.
MYSEXYMAN:Do you need me to come up there and fuck the yacht thing out of you? Because you’re already the coolest kid around in my book.
BANNER:YES, I DO. I wish you could. But I know you’re busy. You’re pretty cool in my book too.
MYSEXYMAN: Is that right?
BANNER:Do you need me to come down there and fuck the cool into you?
BANNER: That didn’t quite have the same ring to it, did it?
MYSEXYMAN: Not quite. But I sure wish you would. Miss you, baby.
BANNER: Miss you more.
* * *
A few days later
“Why’d you stop?” Logan asks.
With two fingers buried in my pussy, but unmoving, I shake my head. “Sorry. I just ... I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but your cock has never looked bigger than it does on Skype.”
Logan’s gaze narrows. “Woman, you need to watch what you say. And it’s clear that you need to get your ass home so you can get up close and personal again with my cock.”
I laugh at his serious expression. “I’m just saying that whatever angle that is really works for you. It looks mammoth. I don’t even think I could fit it in my mouth right now. If the car restoration stuff doesn’t work out, you could definitely do jerk-off videos. Never mind. I didn’t say that. I don’t even know what those are.”
“Banner ...”
“Sorry. I just ... I miss you so much.”
Logan and I are trying to have Skype sex, and I’m so freaking happy to finally see his face (and penis) after I pestered him over and over and over again to sign up for a Skype account.
Long story short, we got naked, and I started doing my thing, Logan started doing his, and then I sort of stopped because I got so caught up in watching him do his thing.
My mandefinitelyhas Congo beat. By inches.
Logan drops his head back on his pillow and tosses the blanket over his lap. “I want you here. Miss you too.”
I pull my hotel robe closed and reach out to touch my screen with my non-pussified fingers. “I’ll be back soon. If it were up to me, I’d be done with this stuff already.”
He sighs. “Do your best, Bruce. I’m gonna call it a night. I’m beat.”
I want to say three words to him, especially looking at his face after two weeks apart, but I don’t.