Neither can I, love. I just really need to know if you’re wet for me. Touch yourself and tell me what it feels like.
I can do you one better.
How so?
How about I show you instead?
10:32pm
FaceTime call to Kyran
31
Kyran
I watch her as she props up the phone, nervousness coating her stunning features. I almost didn’t answer the FaceTime because I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle whatever her devious little mind has planned, but I also really want to see her again.
She really did change into sweatpants that are a little too big along with an oversized band t-shirt. And I was right. She looks fucking amazing.
She gets the phone set up against something and I watch her as she pulls her hands behind her back, looking at me with so much mischief and admiration as she backs away slowly toward her bed.
I just smirk at her as she does, opting to set my phone up against my nightstand so that she can see me too. She makes sure her full body is in frame before she jumps back up onto her bed. She lets her feet dangle over the edge as she looks into the camera.
“You are so fucking pretty, Wes,” I tell her. Something about what is happening feels forbidden even though nothing has really even happened yet.
I’ve seen her up close and personal; made love to her and cherished the fuck out of her mind, body, and soul. But this . . . this feels different. It feels like severe trust.
She smiles at me, letting her lashes bat against her cheeks before she sits up a little and reaches for the hem of her shirt.
“Weslyn, you don’t have to do this,” I say to her, just wanting to make sure that she doesn’t feel pressure from my attempt to help her fall asleep.
“I know, Kyran. I want to. Is that okay?” She’s so fucking sweet, looking at me innocently but I know she’s charged with so much sexual need.
“Of course it is, love.”
And on my approval, she slides the shirt up and over her head, letting it fall softly to the floor as I take in her body. Her chest is covered by a lacy bralette of sorts, something so casual yet so fucking sexy.
I sit up a little more, wishing that I was the one undressing her. But this feels sacred and special just the same, so I watch with intention as she moves off the bed. She slides her sweats down, my dick aches when I see her beautiful legs—remembering how they wrapped around me so perfectly not long ago. She’s now standing in just a bra and her matching underwear; my heart racing a hundred miles per minute at the sight.
Weslyn sits back onto her bed and this time, she spreads her legs just the tiniest amount.
“What is it you asked of me, Kyran?” Her tone is fevered with a sensual timbre and I almost choke on my words as I go to answer her; enthralled by how bold she’s being.
“I wanted you to touch yourself and tell me what it feels like.”
I watch her as she opens her legs a little more, and the sight before me is unreal. She’s leaning back a bit, using her hands to hold her up but she moves one over, skating it gently and slowly across her stomach before reaching under her panties.
Fuck. I’m so turned on. Her eyes look like a wildfire as she watches me watching her, letting her hand move closer and closer to her pussy.
“Oh,” she moans as she makes contact and I’m so fucking hard. So gone in the way she moans and talks to me. The way she seems confident in taking care of herself and doing it while I watch.
“I miss you, Kyran,” she whispers as she touches herself and I feel as though I can come on that high alone. She’s so fucking pretty and the way she’s looking at me through the phone is dangerous.
“I miss you too, love,” I tell her, my own tone dark and fervid with so much lust.
“You’re right. I am so wet for you.”
I want to see her, want to ask her to move her panties to the side so that I can watch her play with herself. But something about having the fabric be a barrier between what she’s doing and what I can see feels intimate. So much so that it causes me to need to touch myself.
