There’s something incredibly thrilling about chatting when I’m horny. The anticipation, the buildup, the way words can tease and tantalize me. It starts with a simple text, a hint of flirtation, a touch of desire. I feel a spark ignite inside me, and soon, that spark turns into a burning need.
I find myself drawn to my phone, eagerly awaiting the next message. The mere act of typing out my thoughts, my fantasies, sends a rush of excitement through my body. Each word, each sentence, is a stroke of pleasure, heightening my arousal. The way my chat partner responds, their own desires mirroring mine, fuels the fire even more.
As I read their messages, my fingers start to wander. I trace a path down my neck, feeling the heat of my skin beneath my touch. My other hand finds its way to my breasts, cupping them gently at first, then squeezing them with increasing pressure. The sensation of my fingers rolling over my nipples sends jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I let out a soft moan, unable to contain the growing need inside me.
My hand continues its journey, slipping under my top, feeling the softness of my skin. I tweak my nipples, rolling them between my fingers, imagining it’s my chat partner’s hands on me instead. The thought makes me wetter, my panties already soaked through with arousal.
