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Arrival at auction site and meet hotel manager.

Hank could just imagine how soft and smooth her pussy lips must be under the thin layers of fabric hiding them. It was just like his fantasy. He could imagine getting out of bed, rock hard and completely naked, and pushing her down into his pile of laundry, ripping her cute little panties down, and -

"Why do you look so scared, silly?" She was now looking back at him over her shoulder, still bent over with one hand on the soccer ball. She had a smile on her face.

"Nothing. You just woke me up. Sorry."

"Sorry to wake you."

It was both exhilarating and terrifying to be talking to the object of his masturbation without her knowing how aroused he was. He tried to extend their conversation.

"Long game today?"

"Who knows? For once, I don't really feel like working out. Maybe I'll come home early. We'll see." She grabbed the soccer ball and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. "Good night, sleepyhead."

The door slowly swung open behind her as he heard her get dressed and leave the house.


Hank spent the rest of the day trying not to cum. Everything turned him on - TV, breakfast, even his own novel in progress. When he watched TV, all he could think about was what it would be like to fuck the hot news anchor. When he ate breakfast, he could just imagine Carla slowly eating his banana. And his book was quickly turning into erotica. But with the bedroom door unreliable, and the threat of Carla coming home early, he knew it wasn't safe. He felt like a little kid trying to sneak a quick jack-off session before his parents came home from work.

Hank was so frazzled that it took him two hours to think of the bathroom. He felt like a real idiot. For something to do, he was about to replace the toilet paper when it hit him. Of course the bathroom door locks, why not just do it in there? He ran into the bathroom almost at once, taking off his shirt on the way, slammed the door behind him, and pulled down his sweatpants. His erection sprang free and slapped him on the bare stomach. He fell onto the toilet seat and got to work, not even thinking to lock the bathroom door.

Carla walked into the house confused. She saw the half-eaten breakfast, the shirt thrown onto the floor, and both Hank's laptop and TV turned on in opposite ends of the living room. She ignored the mess and took off her shirt and shorts as she walked to her bedroom. She slipped off her shoes and socks and threw it all into a pile, then walked into the bathroom, where she saw Hank masturbating feverishly.

Carla had never experienced anything quite like it before. Hank was wrong about her, she was a frequent masturbator, but she rarely thought about sharing her sexual nature with other people. In fact, she had always found girls to be much prettier than guys, and she never understood how her girlfriends found guys to be the ultimate turn-on. But seeing Hank there changed everything. When she saw him sitting in the bathroom, his eyes closed shut, his mouth hanging slightly open in passion, his big thick dick straining in his hands, she understood.

She loved everything about the sight, from the way he stroked his big balls, lifting them up and down, to the way his abs clenched when he breathed in. But most of all, that dick. It was gorgeous. She had never seen anything quite like it, not even in the porn movies her sister showed her once. She understood. She was consumed.

Then Hank opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought that his dreams had literally come true, that he was imagining what was in front of him. Because, after all, it was exactly what he had been imagining. There she was, Carla, only dressed in a sports bra and tiny panties, dripping with sweat, her mouth open in awed lust. But that moment passed. He mistook her lust for disgust.

"Get out!" he screamed.

"Jeez, okay, sorry!" she yelped, and slowly backed out of the room, watching his dick the whole time. "Sorry." She gently closed the door behind her.

Hank leaned back and slammed his head against the wall.

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