So he sent a picture of his lovely junk (First time I’d received such a text—he’s so many firsts!) and I was so happy to see it. I wrote back “For me? What shall I do with it?” but since I’m the sex-blogger he insisted that I be the one to tell most of the story. (“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be the dominant one?” “I’m instructing you to amuse me with your creativity.”)
Clearly he is a full-service muse.
I got home and started dinner as I started to spin the story. I think I did a pretty good job. I was making tortellini. As I put the water on to boil, I told him about some fictitious Hello Kitty underpants already complete with a wet spot. As I grated the cheese, I tried to convince him to tell me what to do, but he insisted that I tell him what he was telling me to do. As the water started to boil, he sent me an evil grin, and I texted back a bratty eye roll and let that sit while I ate supper. He was excellent dinner company.
After I was done eating, I sent him a picture of my nicely-made bed and got in. Just like he did in the story I was telling him, I pulled up my shirt and down my bra. My nipples were sticking straight up, ready and bright, bright pink. After a few tries, I got a good picture of them and sent it over. I played with my boobs while I waited for the next text to come.
He sent back a try at dirty talk and I rewrote it so it was nastier.
I was conscious of trying not to borrow from scenes I’d already had and written—it was fun to try fiction, to write a fantasy just for him.
It occurred to me that it would be awkward for Sweetie to come home in the middle of this so I called to get her ETA and give her a heads-up. Also I accidentally dialed Mr. Shiny Eyes in the process. #togetherness
Sweetie was a half hour away and I was soaking wet. My fingers slipped around inside my plain flowered undies and inside myself—I was ready for him. There was plenty of time for me to come but I kept losing track of time—texting, playing, texting, playing. It’s kind of magical that I could be that turned on by him even though he’s such a long way away.
Sweetie came in before I was finished but was unfazed—she just closed the bedroom door and went to make herself supper. Mr. Sweetheart asked me where I wanted his cum.
“Well, I tried to swallow for you but you pushed me away and it went all over…”
He texted: “As your reward, I lean in, lick your cum covered tits, then offer you a creamy kiss. :) <3 <3 xoxo”
It was a good reward. I was unsure of the etiquette for ending such an exchange, other than to let him know that I’d come. I told him that next time we’ll have to think of a way to metaphorically snuggle afterwards. I’m excited to write him some more stories.