So hot! Too hot to run. I had such a craving for a milkshake. But it was too hot to go out. Too hot to eat. I looked at some pictures of paintings. Landscapes by William Merritt Chase. I remembered one time when Logan and I went on a walk through the park, and it was so hot, and there was an ice cream truck, and Logan bought me a cone. We did ice cream kisses. I was thinking about that when Logan called. He said the concert went well. He opened with Scarlatti instead of Bach. He hummed some of it. He’s a terrible hummer, but he made me laugh. He asked me what I did. I told him it was too hot to do anything. “Don’t be that way,” he said. “Okay,” I said, “I was just teasing you. I did all sorts of stuff.” “What sorts of stuff?” “I went to the park,” I said. “I bought a milkshake.” “Was it good?” he asked. “Yeah.” “And then what?” he asked. “There was this cute guy,” I said. “He asked me if the milkshake was good. I said it was. He asked if he could have a taste. I said okay. He took a taste of my milkshake. Then he asked if I was good. I told him yes I was very good. He asked if he could have a taste. I said okay. He kissed my nipples, first one and then the other. His mouth was still cold from the milkshake. My nipples got so stiff. He sucked and sucked. He slurped me.” While I was telling Logan this I was touching myself. First my nipples, then my clit. I was making myself so hot. The phone was silent while I was touching, except for my touching noises and my moaning noises. “I’m going to come now,” I told Logan. “Do you want to hear me come?” “Yes, come,” he said. When he said come I came. “You’re so good,” he said. I was too done in to answer. “I love you,” he said. I moaned a happy moan.