We didn’t speak after that day. Well, I never expected him to beep me. Its the normal meet once and smash cycle. Ugh.I lay in bed tonight, running different images through my head. Thoughts of all those dicks I’ve fucked back to back sprinting across my consciousness. Feck! I’ve definitely been on a crazy dick rampage.
Thinking of dicks is making me wet though. I scroll through the hundreds of DMs i have and didn’t see any spectacular message. Just your average lame messages. Then I decided to go through my requests. Swiped and swiped until i found one.
‘A rose for a damsel’ it read. It’s so different, so acute. At that moment, I yearned to be loved. To be cherished. That message made me feel beautiful.
I accepted it and soon enough, I’m talking with him. He’s perfect. His voice is perfecter. He calls me his doll.
Countless nights, I rub my clit to the sound of his voice. He doesn’t know i do it. But at night, when he calls me after a long day from work, I use my earpiece to listen to him and I feel myself steadily getting consumed by lust.
I will find my hands creep towards my always pantyless pussy— easy access. I rub and rub slowly while his voice washes over me; telling me mundane tits and bits about himself.
Thats the part I love the most. I love hearing everything about a man. I love knowing him. I love to know he trusts me enough to confide in me. I love listening to men.
He tells me everything.
I can’t keep track of the orgasms I’ve wrung from my body; listening to him.
Curiously enough; I don’t want to ever meet him.
No comments:
Post a Comment