I feel like some kind of bitch. I have a hot, virginal girl that’s living in my house. She belongs to me. I own her. I want to fuck her.

And here I am, locked in my study, trying not to think about what her pussy tastes like. About how much my cock fucking hurts from not finding out how that warm wet hole would feel if it squeezed my cock.

For a moment I’m a goddamn teenage boy trapped in the study of a man, my cock in my hand while I furiously jerk it. I’m dishonoring my wingback chair to be jerking off in here while a hot, eager, willing, sexy girl awaits me.

Fuck, I know that I shouldn’t fuck her because of the situation with her father. I know that I should probably sell her on the Virgin Market. I know that she can probably do very goddamn well for me and help recover quite a bit of what was lost to me…

But those are all the logical, coherent thoughts I should be having. I’m not fucking logical right now. I’m a goddamn caveman fisting my cock and leaning back against the leather of that once dignified wingback chair telling myself that I should cum on her if not in her. The past few times I have touched her were goddamn electric with the frenetic lust between us. Our chemistry is off any fucking charts. How Sarah can stay so strong, after everything she’s been through and is going through, and those dark desires within her keep blossoming…fuck if I know. I’m a fucking bastard and Sarah so clearly wants to fuck me. She’s afraid of me.

But that doesn’t keep her from being the girl who got so fucking soaking wet from sitting on my lap that she got my suit trousers wet. God, I have to fist my cock at that. It's painful to think about not just what touching her felt like, or what stopping touching her before I went too far felt like. It's so damn painful thinking about all those times like now where I’m dying to touch her and the energy of all that lust has nowhere to go.

Sarah could be masturbating right now. The idea of her fingers in her wet little pussy makes me jam my cock back into my pants. I'm not jerking off. I can’t fucking stand the idea of doing anything but marching to her goddamn room and slamming my cock into her until she screams.

Sarah doesn’t have permission to speak, you see. If she did, then I’d have to focus even more on her sweet pink lips and how I want to fuck her mouth hard before I fuck her pussy. That’s not the goal here, despite what my body seems to think. So here I am, a grown man hiding in my study and I’m not jerking off. I’m not going to sit in here and go mad, either.

I know what to do. I will text the only person privy to this whole situation. The only person I trust to help unravel my tormented mine.

TD, the Trevor Davries that I have shared countless pussy with and the mark for Sarah’s auction bids, should I go through with selling her on the Virgin Market. Trevor knows more about the Virgin Market than me, having been a repeat customer, and I know he’s said that he wants to be a future one as well. Maybe for something more permanent.

There is something really fucking odd in wanting my buddy to buy the girl I want to fuck, right? But it’s not. We’ve shared girls before. After we do, we reaffirm that the girls mean nothing to us.

Trevor and I can share Sarah once and I’ll get her out of my system. Even if my cock screams at me that I need to fuck Sarah every day until our bodies give out, my mind tells me that I need to leave that poor girl alone.

Would that I could.

I’m not that good of a person. I know that.

And so do you.

I text Trevor, and he says he’ll be over in a few.

I try to feel a sense of relief from knowing that I’ll have an actual sane, level-headed person on the way and one that can actually help me out with this situation.

There won’t be any real need to hide my plan and desire to share Sarah. I’ve been giving him peeks. I know he’s enjoyed them. Not just from the affirmative reactions in his texts. I know that her tight little body is too damn perfect to not have his cock jerking to attention in every picture that I send. I know that despite being a man who’s nearly damn greedy in all aspects of his life, he’ll fucking get off on sharing her body with me. Of course, knowing that he’s coming over…part of me wants to forget the money or my reputation and just fucking ruin Sarah with him.

Take her virginity, take her desires, and fuck her so much that we all goddamn blackout afterward and wake up more dehydrated than if we’d been on a desert island. That’s how much cum we should load her up with. Sarah’s got a wet pussy that will weep cum when we fuck her.

If.

If we fuck her.

Damn.

This is a risky move. I need to get some goddamn control over myself before Trevor gets here. I told him I wanted his advice on the asset. He’s level headed almost to a fault. He’ll tell me what I'm supposed to hear.

I hear the door and know that Trevor is here. For a second I wonder if Sarah will leave her room and see Trevor. She won’t know he’s TD, though I know she must be curious. Still, I know that despite the arousal evident in her every breath—no matter how hard she tries to fight it, fuck I so get it because that’s my situation too—I don’t think that Sarah is going to leave her room. In fact, the idea that someone else is here may make her try to hide in the bathroom since I took the door off the hinges. I don’t want her to feel safe. The idea has been to terrify her. I didn’t think she’d be able to be aroused by me if she was terrified.

Fuck, though, I know the truth now is that she’s both.

Goddamn it.

"Trevor, thanks for coming," I say in my calmest voice that I can muster.

Of course, the ever observant fuck that he is, Trevor’s eyes go wide and he laughs, coming toward me. I lead him back to the study.

Advice.

Don’t turn and take him to Sarah’s room. No matter how good it would be to spear her on our cocks and tug her tight little body between us.