She sits on the edge of my bed, dressed in garments and lace. She says her name is Stacey, but from the looks of it, she is simply my hooker.
I stare from my own corner, my head tucked against my torn pillow, as I lay naked and covered by a sheet too thin to conceal the pink shade of my cock that seems to draw her attention.
“Hello there,” she says, snapping the back of her black see thru bra that cuts into the flesh of her abdomen.
She is thin and fragile, her waist the size of a lingerie model’s. She says she’s Mexican but I swear she’s more white than she cares to admit, tho I do admire her. Her skin is pale and fleshy, her cheeks not quite grown in yet. Her hair is silk and dark like Selma Hayek’s but a little straighter. She giggles as she finishes the bra before reaching over and pinching my still flaccid cock. I’m not ready to use it again, barely having finished myself.
“Don’t get too excited, soldier,” she whispers, bending back over me to plant a kiss on my lips.
I continue to lay there and imagine holding a cigaret during this scene, instead transfixed by the image on my computer screen. She is beautiful, and a webcam model and this is just my daydream….