It’s not too long before our delivery arrives, and we get sucked into oohing and aahing over the fall line that just came out. All of us at Vintage Threads are suckers for clothes, and the new inventory is right up our alley. Stella comes in, and even she can’t help but stare at the new beauties. That’s how we spend our day well into the early evening until everything is done and ready for a new day tomorrow.
We all say our goodbyes and make our way out of the store. My one and only thought is making it home, grabbing a shower, and waiting to see if I’ll get a FaceTime call from Jasper.
Two
Jasper
Today must be a Monday, not like it matters much anyway when you’re out working on an oil rig. I’m seven days in and pissed as hell. I missed Aspen coming home and being the one to pick her up. Not like her and I can control what’s going on around us, but it sucks just the same.
My only thoughts right now are focused on getting to hear her sweet voice tonight and if we can have a repeat performance from last night. My body is already aching at the thought of that, and not for the first time I’m thankful as hell that I rigged up an outdoor shower so I can clean up before heading into the travel trailer I purchased last year. There was no way I intended to stay in the cramped-style housing our company provides, which is what I did up until last year. It sucked. My soul purpose was getting to the point in my career where I had money in the bank. I lived the frugal bachelor lifestyle, no home to tie my name to, my truck paid off. I only had an apartment in town and my mom to take care of, which she never let me do anyway. So, now I have a nice chunk of change put away. Even with paying for the travel trailer in cash. Not that it’s the best of the best. That’s not what I’m about. Especially because it’s just me. I was more worried about having a space of my own, not what it looks like. This way, I can eat food I like, sleep without four other guys sawing logs, and talk to Aspen when I want without anyone interrupting.
I turn the water on. In no way, shape, or form am I taking a cold shower. Thank God I parked at an offsite camp and have all the hookups here, even if we do have to pay a monthly fee. It’s well worth it, not having to deal with making sure there’s enough propane to take a hot shower or cook dinner. That shit is not for me. While I wait for the hot water to kick in, I untie the laces of my steel-toe boots before stepping out of them, place my hard hat off to the side on the bench, my shoes go under, and then I strip out of my flame resistant coveralls. By the time I take off my white shirt and boxer briefs, the water is steaming hot and I’m ready for it to pour down onto my sore and tired muscles.
My mind goes back to when Aspen and I FaceTimed and the way she looked last night. Her hair was piled high on top of her head, a few tendrils falling out of its holder here and there. Her light pink top showed off her smooth pale skin, a contrast to my skin that’s been darkened by the sun. My eyes roamed over to the top that barely held those phenomenal tits of hers up, just barely.
“Shit,” I grumble. Soaping up my body while thinking of Aspen has my cock rock solid. The only thing I have is my fist, but it’s damn tired of using that. Especially these past few weeks. No, all it can think of is Aspen’s hands, her mouth, her cunt, or hell, her ass. Fuck, I can already imagine it, my hands in her hair as she sucks my cock, the sounds she’ll make as she takes my cock into the sweet depths of her pussy. A pussy I was fucking dying to get inside. Seeing a tease of it last night only has me counting down the days even more until she’s in my sights again.
The soft tone of Aspen’s voice telling me her deepest fantasies, how I told her in explicit detail exactly what I’d do to her the minute I had her on my bed when she came back to Texas and I was off work.
Hell, she had me fisting my cock while we were on a video call, her fantastic fucking rack, chest heaving, her top slowly falling to underneath the swells of her tits as we both slowly moved our hands down our bodies, Aspen dropping the phone at one point, trying to hold on to it while playing with that pretty pussy of hers. It was a fucking view. Soft, bare flesh, weeping with want and desire. I could practically taste it when she showed me, the lips of her pussy opening while she worked her fingers, first on her clit, teasing herself before dipping her fingers inside her cunt. My hands fucking ached to be between her legs, the palms of my hands holding her sweet-as-fuck ass, legs thrown over my shoulders as I licked every drop she had and more.
My hand travels the length of my torso, hating like hell it’ll be my fist once again but reliving the moments of watching Aspen come. There’s only so much a man can take. When she came down from her high, her face was soft, as was the small smile she gave me. And then when she said, “Your turn,” well, who was I to turn down that sweet-as-hell request?
I gave her what she wanted, making a full display of it by propping the phone up. My balls were aching for a release, so when I grasped my cock with one hand and my balls in the other, it only took minutes until I was the one moaning this time. Her name leaving my lips had her breathing heavy again, as if she were ready to go again. I stroke the length of my cock, soap dripping from my hands as I work myself into another frenzy that won’t even take the edge off, not until I have Aspen’s mouth on mine. One thing I regret the fucking most is not taking her mouth the night I took her to the airport.
“God damn,” I groan as my balls start to feel tight, the tingling in my lower back coming out of nowhere, and I’m coming, hating like hell my cum is going down the drain and not in Aspen’s mouth, cunt, or on her tits. I know without a doubt in my mind I’ll be painting her in my cum. Hell, I’ll even have her rub it into her skin. I want me on her. Always.
I finish rinsing off, turn the water off, grab the towel off the hook, and dry off. It’s already getting late, and after Aspen’s day of playing catch-up, I know our time is dwindling along with my need to eat, grab some sleep, and do it all over again for the next fucking seven days until I can rest my eyes on the real-life Aspen instead of her face on my phone screen.
Three
Aspen
Jasper wasn’t wrong when he said he worked relentlessly when he was out on the rig. It’s been a few days since I’ve been back home in Victor, Texas. The change in weather from Virginia to here is unbelievably amazing. Where it’s already frigid this fall where I grew up, down here it’s beautiful at a balmy seventy degrees.
I returned from my parents on a Tuesday; it makes for a short week. Stella loves working on Saturdays, and Ruthie decided to listen to me and took yesterday and today off. All I have to do is stop by the shop, grab the money, and make a drop at the bank. That’s probably why I’m sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket on my lap, a cup of coffee in one hand and the remote in the other. I may as well binge-watch a new show until I need to go into Vintage Threads today. Heck, Stella could probably do the deposit, but I hate to ask her when she’s still a teenager. I’d feel horrible if something happened.
I’m just settling in to watch a new Halloween movie when there’s a knock at my door.
“That’s weird.” I climb out of my cozy spot on the couch and put my coffee down, which sucks because if it gets cold, I’ll have to nuke it in the microwave. I’m that weird person who hates cold coffee, unless I order it iced. I’m not sure what the difference is. It’s just how I like it.