Ricky awoke startled in his own bed. Theressa wasn't coming.
He felt suddenly sad. Something had happened. She got here every night like clockwork. What had he done? He needed her, didn't he? Well, didn't she need him? She said she did. She sounded like she owned his cock. He was not to look at another as long she had him.
Perhaps, she was just not in the mood. That was it, evidently. But he could hardly think of her never being in the mood. This lass had stamina. She could make him feel so amazing, night and day. Early in the morning. Late at night. He was ready for it. He imagined waking up from a wet dream. But it hadn't happened.
He felt totally useless now.
Where the fuck was she? She was suppose to be here. She was suppose to be with him. She wasn't suppose to be at some awful party. But she was. He could just bet on it. For sure. All lovely and sexed up.
Ricky thought he might cry. It was pure torture to be Theressa's boy-toy.