Page 43 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“Goodnight, Sir.”
That’s what I like about Lorenzo. He never tries to argue with me. When I say I’m done talking, he never questions it.
I step inside my dull bedroom, shut the door, and lean against it, downing the rest of the scotch. Setting the glass on my nightstand, I undress, not even placing my clothes in the hamper like I usually do.
I toss my phone next to my empty glass and climb into bed naked, staring up at the ceiling fan while it whirls. My head swims with liquor, good and bad ideas colliding with one another. I tug the blanket up to my hips, hoping the darkness will send me to sleep soon.
Even still, Jovie consumes my mind. Nothing and no one else.
My cock stirs at the memory of her in that dress.
I want to buy that dress in every fucking color. All I want her to walk around all day every day in little dresses that tease me so every fucking night I can give her every fucking ounce of me that she’s been begging for.
“Fuck,” I snarl, reaching under the sheets to stroke my cock.
The more I think about her, the more my body heats. I bite the inside of my cheek when my thumb swipes across the sensitive underside of the crown, arching my back from how good it feels imagining it’s her hand on me.
My free hand rubs across my chest and then I pull it away when the rough skin on my palm scratches me. It isn’t soft like her touch would be.
“All I want is you.” I speed up my strokes, knowing it will never be enough.
I reach for the phone, knowing I shouldn’t talk like this to my secret admirer or whoever the fuck it is, but I’m burning with need and the only one who can truly fix it, can’t be here.
She never can.
I yank the covers from my body, my cock jutting from a trimmed patch of dark hair, precome leaking down the flared bulbous head.
Pressing record, I squeeze the shaft extra hard, my orgasm already threatening to surface. I’m on edge because of Jovie.
That fucking dress. The way her body looked in it. The way it hugged her curves that I need to fucking caress. The way she gasped when she felt my touch. The way her skin is so fucking soft.
“I’m going out of my mind. Are you going to help me take the edge off?” I rasp, stroking myself slowly so I don’t end this too soon.
I press send and guilt follows. I’m not even with Jovie in any capacity. I can’t even call her a friend and yet I feel like I’m cheating on her with another woman.
A woman who I want to beher.
Ms. Smith: “I don’t know. Will you help me first?”
It’s a video of her, similar to the other one. This time, she has a toy between her legs. The buzzing is loud and fast. The red toy is small. She’s able to hold it in her hand and control it how she wants to.
“Yes,” she gasps. “More. Oh God.”Her voice sounds muffled and yet I’m still able to use it to my advantage, imagining it’s Jovie speaking to me.
Her thighs tremble.
The buzzing becomes more intense.
My phone dings again in the middle of me watching and it’s a picture from her. I flip to my stomach, needing more than my hand.
I need friction.
My blood is boiling for release, and I know whatever may come of this, won’t be enough.
“Fuck,” I moan when I click open the picture to see her wet cunt.
She must have come already.
Me: “Getting started without me? That’s not very nice, Ms. Smith.”
