Samantha:The BB-8 maternity shirt was obnoxious, and you should prepare for consequences.
Toxic:And what might they be?
An image fills my screen of a male chastity device.
Which…is not something I’ve ever had the desire to wear or use in any capacity.
Samantha:That should serve as both a joke and a warning.
Phew!
Toxic:yes, ma’am
Samantha:I know you’re just itching to discuss all the little details about the impending droid—but don’t. It’s a scary subject for me, and I’m still adjusting.
Toxic:understood
Samantha:I suppose I should ask what you’re into…
Against my better judgment, I answer with the truth.
Toxic:You. Only you.
Samantha:Seriously, Toxic! I just got done telling you this is solely about sex!
Toxic:And that’s what I was referring to. Don’t tell me we weren’t fucking dynamite together. That any other man can satisfy you the way I can. You’d be lying, and not just to me, but to yourself.
It seems to take forever for her text bubble to pop up, and when it does, my breath catches in my throat as I wait for the reply.
Samantha:Don’t act like you’re the reason I’m so horny. As you said, pregnant women have insatiable appetites.
I did say that, but it’s unquestionable that I destroy her better than anyone else could.
She knows this too.
The Hunks begin to file into the bus, and I follow, settling into my bunk.
Realizing that it’s almost 3 a.m., I say:
Toxic:Shouldn’t you be in bed?
Samantha:I am…
A picture populates the screen of Samantha lying down, a loose nightshirt clinging to her extremely fuckable tits.
Dammit, this woman knows how to get under my skin.
I exhale a long breath and consider my options.
She clearly wants some action, but I don’t want my droid momma up so late.
Toxic:Get some sleep.
Samantha:You said you’d take care of me!
Laughter bursts from my throat as I imagine Samantha horny and furious, which is strangely adorable.
Sexting is not something I do often because pussy is never in short supply, but if my girl needs me to take care of her, I aim to please.
