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It wasn’t long after I sent the message that my phone vibrated with a response. I picked it up, curiosity piqued.
His reply was simple, yet laden with intent. “I can feel your body.”
My heart raced. Knowing he was on the other end, equally invested in this unexpected turn of events, added an exhilarating edge to the situation. My fingers hovered over the keys as I contemplated my next message.
“I wish you were here to feel it for yourself,” I typed, hitting send before I could second-guess myself. My fingers went back to their previous ministrations, the thrill of the conversation amplifying my pleasure.
His response was swift, “Describe every inch to me. Make me feel as if I’m there with you.”
I bit my lip, contemplating how best to paint the picture for him. “I’m lying on my back, legs spread. My fingers are dancing over my wet slit, teasing, while my other hand squeezes my breast. I can’t help but imagine it’s your hand, your mouth on me.”
His message pinged back, “I’d start by kissing the inside of your thighs, feeling the heat emanating from your core. I’d make my way up slowly, teasingly, till I reach your swollen lips, tasting your excitement.”
The visual imagery of his words made me even wetter. As I continued to pleasure myself, I decided to up the ante. With trembling fingers, I took a quick, suggestive photo of my fingers deep inside, glistening with my arousal, and sent it to him.
He responded with a groan through voice note, “Oh God, I can almost taste you. I want to feel how tight and warm you are inside.”
His reaction drove me wild. I typed back quickly, “Imagine your fingers replacing mine, feeling how ready I am for you. How would you take me?”
The reply was instant, “I’d push you onto your back, pinning your hands above your head. I’d explore every inch of you with my mouth, from your neck, down to your breasts, circling your nipples before moving further down. My tongue would dance around your clit before I’d take it fully into my mouth, listening to your moans of pleasure.”
The sheer imagery of his words had me teetering on the edge. “I want you inside me,” I replied, almost begging, “Fill me up, make me yours.”
His next message was a picture — an evident bulge in his pants. “I wish I was there, burying myself deep inside you…
