I could lie. But where is the fun in that?
This is fantasy. And fantasy is a place to be true to yourself, to give in where you wouldn't in real life.
Me
Yes.
I'm horny as hell, and I stroke a hand down my body, sliding over my skin to my pussy, and over the lace, the delicate material lightly rubbing me as I do so.
I bite my lip and sigh, sliding under the edge of the lace to stroke my wet flesh, soft, and every single part something that sings with a million nerve endings when mind and flesh merge.
Right now, it is natural, sensual, and I tease my opening, running my fingers between the lips and up to my clit and back again.
Every stroke stokes fires. Every touch is a sigh and promise of more.
The phone pings.
Alex
Are you touching yourself?
My cheeks burn, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it is embarrassment—being caught in the act. And it all bundles together to make me hotter, wetter.
With my free hand, I type back.
Me
Why? Are you interested?
Alex
I'm always interested in everything to do with you.
I shudder.
Me
You don't know me.
Alex
I know the essence of you. Who you are at your core.
Me
No, you don't.
I stop touching myself and start to slide my hand free when the phone pings again.
Alex
No one hides when talking to a stranger they never expect to meet. You haven't tried to impress me, you're fun, daring, and hot. You went into that pool, Lola. And you were scared and turned on at the same time. I know that. You'd have to find it thrilling and hot to do it. Anyone would. So, yeah, I know you at your core.
My breath catches.
Me
What would you do if you were here?
