dragging my nails over the tops of my breasts, teasing the edge of the delicate lace lining the romper. My nipples demand attention, but I hold out, waiting to see what else he’d do.
Wyatt: Bet those nipples are pretty and pink. They hard for me, baby?
Thea: Yes. I need you to touch them.
Another photo comes through and I suck in a sharp breath. He pulled down his sweatpants just enough to reveal the base of his erection. His thumb and finger are curled around it. I lick my lips and shift around, debating grabbing a pillow to shove between my legs.
Thea: Would you kiss them next?
Wyatt: Yes. Pull down your top so I can suck on them. I’m going to bite them until you cry out.
Releasing a strained whimper, I peel off the thin straps and gasp when the air hits my bare skin. My nipples are pebbled, almost throbbing from how turned on I am. I palm my breast with one hand, pinching each nipple to simulate being bitten. My back arches and my clit aches with need. I almost drop the phone from my other hand.
Wyatt: Tell me how it feels.
A whine gets stuck in my throat while I fumble the phone, my typing getting sloppy as I keep rolling my tingling nipples beneath my palm to feel the tiny electric jolts it sends to my core. I wish he was here, laying next to me so I could smell him, feel his smile against my skin.
My stomach flips when he sends another recorded text.
“Fuck, baby. Can’t even type straight, huh? You’re so sexy.” His voice is a hoarse growl over the faint slap of skin. He’s jerking himself off harder. “Show me.”
My heart thuds as I rub my thighs together to alleviate the tight coil of tension he’s worked me into.
Thea: What?
His response is immediate.
Wyatt: Show me how I’m touching you, baby. I need to see you. Take a pic to prove you’re being good and doing what I’m saying.
I sink my teeth into my lip. Can I do that?
This all feels so good, way better than I’ve ever made myself feel when I’ve touched myself beneath the sheets in the dark. I don’t just mean physically, either. Talking to him was scary at first, but it’s getting easier once it’s clear he isn’t waiting to laugh at me.
It’s like he sees me, the real me from my secret folder.
My confidence rises and I take a picture of my tits squeezed between my arms, one hand pinching a nipple as my lips part on a gasp. The material of my romper bunches around my waist and the flush in my cheeks is visible.
After I send it, he replies with a recorded text that’s a long groan. It takes another minute for him to respond.
Wyatt: Good girl. So good. Now, slide those fingers between those lips and suck them real good.
Thea: Like this? [Photo attachment]
My lips are wrapped around two fingers to the second knuckle, puckered and plump. The way I angled the photo, I left more of my bare tits in the frame than my face and the dirty result drives my confidence higher. I like how wanton I appear.
Wyatt: Holy fuck. Yes, like that. Fuck.
Thea: What next? Tell me how to make myself feel good for you.
Wyatt: Mm yeah, that’s good, baby. You’re killing me, you sexy as fuck little minx. Need those lips on my cock.
The mental image pulls another gasp from me. I push my fingers back into my mouth, imagining they’re bigger and take another photo for him. This time when he replies, I get a dick pic, seeing proof of the effect I have on him. It’s shiny, like he spit in his palm or keeps a bottle of lube handy. Pleasure coils deep in my chest because I did that to him, made him hard, made him masturbate to thoughts of being with me. I bite my lip around the shy smile curving my mouth.
Thea: So hot. You going to put it in me?
For a second, I squirm through a frisson of embarrassment. Is that good enough dirty talk? Should I have said cock or something?
The momentary worry disappears when his response comes through.
Wyatt: Fuck yes. So hard for you. Going to fuck your brains out, sweetness. Your fingers nice and wet? They’re my tongue. Touch your clit, nice long strokes so you know exactly how I’m tasting you.
My chest caves with my sharp breath. I follow his directions, wriggling out