I then become inspired. I slather my lips in deep red lipstick, remove my breast from its covering, and snap a few pics of me licking my nipple. I hurt my neck doing it, but the pic itself is pretty sexy.
Using the full-length mirror, I do a few coquettish poses that show off the entire outfit, just without my face. I snap a few pictures at different angles, and the one of me just standing there is immediately deleted. Too much hip.
It takes some work, and I get a big headache as I take a picture of my ass split by the thong. I think he’ll love it.
Climbing back in bed, I search through the pictures and pick a few, sending them off with a short message.
Me: Missing you.
As soon as I hit send, I become nervous. What if Jackson’s with someone and they show up? I trust him today, but aren’t sexy pictures what get women in trouble? You break up, and he posts the pictures as revenge porn. At least I cropped my head out of the photos.
Not even a minute passes, and my phone pings.
Jackson: This is what you do to me.
It’s a short video of him stroking his cock. I shudder with excitement—was that a small orgasm? Holy fuck.
Me: I wish I was there to take care of that for you.
My phone rings.
“Really? What would you do?”
“So many options.” I breathe into the phone. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes,” he pants.
“Imagine me on my knees between your legs. I take your big, hard cock in my hand, and I suck your balls into my mouth and get them nice and wet. I caress them with my tongue, pulling them while I slowly stroke your hard cock.”
“That feels so good.”
“With my very wet tongue, I lick from the base of your cock to the tip from the underside. Licking and kissing. I lick the tip and taste your pre-cum. Mmmm, it tastes soooo good.”
I touch myself. It isn’t because what I’m doing to Jackson turns me on—although it does. But what really turns me on are the pants and moans he makes while I describe what I want to do.
“I swallow your cock. It’s so big that it’s hard to take in my mouth.”
“Relax your jaw, baby. I want to send it down your throat,” he whispers into his phone.
My fingers dip into my wetness, and I play with my nipples, pulling and twisting. “I’m going up and down and sucking your cock.”
“Are you playing with yourself?” he asks.
“I am. Can you hear how wet I am for you?”
“Are your fingers wet?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“Taste it.”
I put my fingers in my mouth and taste the musky moisture. I’m so amped. “I wish you were here and could lick my pussy.”
Jackson groans. “I wish I was, too.” I can hear the rustling of him stroking himself. Not too fast and not too slow.
“Are you thinking of me bent over the side of that couch in your office? Presenting my dripping pussy?”
He chuckles. “You know me too well.”
“Fuck me hard,” I pant, and my fingers strum my clit.
His breathing becomes ragged. “You’re so tight.”
“Oh, gawd. You’re so big.” I’m getting close. “What are your fantasies with me, Jackson?”
He’s quiet, but I hear the slick sound of him sliding his hand up and down his rod.
“Do you want to spank me?”
“Yes,” he moans.
“Do you want to withhold my pleasure?”
“Never.” He groans hard into the phone and begins to breathe heavily. He’s climaxed. “I want to dip your body in chocolate and caramel and lick it all off. I want you to become as addicted to my cock as I am to your pussy.”
“Tell me more,” I pant. I’m getting close, and I love hearing what Jackson wants to do.
“What do you like that I do?”
“I like it when you eat me out and finger-fuck me.” I’m thinking of it now and envisioning him with me.
“How do you like to be fucked?” he rasps.
“I like you to fuck me hard from behind and pull my hair.”
“Can I spank you?” he begs.
“Yes, please.”
“I wish I was there to suck on your tits right now.”
I imagine him licking and biting my nipples. My orgasm, which was slowly building, explodes. “Jaaaacksooooon,” I moan.
I breathe hard into the phone. And I can hear him panting too.
“Imagine me riding your cock, and it’s deep inside my slick channel. Feel my orgasm hit, and my body grabs your hard rod deep inside me like it’s a vice.”
“Coooorrrriiiiiiiiine,” he moans.
We’re both silent, catching our breath and enjoying the moment.
“Thank you for that,” I say softly.
“The pictures you sent are so beautiful. Thank you for sending them. I won’t lie; I’ll probably beat off to them later tonight.”
I like that idea. “I appreciate the one you sent me, too. I might have to do the same.”
“I wish I was there to show you in person.”
“Me, too.”
“I was thinking of joining Gabby and Damien this weekend. Would you mind?”
“Gabby and Damien can’t come this weekend. They called during dinner and left a message. Gabby had a deadline moved up, and Damien wants to work his butt off on his new project, which is you. His bosses are impressed he has such a big-name client. Anyway, regardless, this is your house, and you’re welcome to come whenever you want.”
“What I’d like to do is come inside you.”
“That usually takes a significant commitment.”
“Like a ring?”
“No!” I respond. “Like a commitment to remaining monogamous. Like a commitment to not dating others. Stuff that really isn’t your style.”
He becomes quiet.
I
