Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [6]
She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but to her surprise, maybe she could. FLYBOY2: Did you suffer all night?
FLYBOY1: No, honey, afraid not. I took matters into my own hands, just like you The image that entered her mind turned her crotch even warmer than it already was. FLYBOY2: Right at the computer? Or later, in bed? FLYBOY1: Right at the computer. I came just a few seconds after you. Watching the pleasure wash over your face while you worked your hot little pussy pushed me over the edge. Despite herself, despite what a dangerous game this might be, she yearned for more of that image—details. She suddenly longed to know exactly what she’d made happen to this man, this stranger. FLYBOY2: Did you come on the screen? The keyboard? FLYBOY1: No—caught it in a tissue. Computers are expensive. ;) If his computer at home was as extravagant as the one she worked on right now, he was right. She typed the first thought in her head without weighing it. FLYBOY2: I would like to have seen. FLYBOY1: Sorry, honey, the webcam only works one way. FLYBOY2: That’s not exactly fair. FLYBOY1: Is your pussy wet right now? From talking about this? Oh God, was it ever. And her heart beat so hard it hurt. But maybe she should lie. Maybe it would be wise to say something jocular, or sarcastic, something to lighten the mood from the deep and dirty direction it had taken. Only . . . she slowly realized that she wanted to tell him, wanted him to know. FLYBOY2: Yes. My panties are already soaked. FLYBOY1: Mmm, nice, baby. Then a rather horrifying thought occurred to her. FLYBOY2: Can you see me right now? FLYBOY1: Yes, Laura. I’m looking right at you. The knowledge made her want to shrink away. They weren’t on equal footing—he seemed to have all the control. FLYBOY1: In fact, while we’ve been talking, your nipples have gotten hard. I know you’re wearing a bra—I can see the outline through your shirt, but those pretty nipples are jutting through anyway. And growing harder by the second—she could almost feel it happening. FLYBOY1: You’re blushing. She’d never felt so trapped between embarrassment and arousal. FLYBOY2: I feel like I’m on a stage. FLYBOY1: I’m the only person in the audience. She bit her lip. FLYBOY2: Is that supposed to make me feel better? FLYBOY1: Yes. I like watching you. Even that fed her desire, making her pussy flutter. Still more nervousness flitted through her as she asked the next thing that came to mind, arousal beating out embarrassment, at least for this brief moment. FLYBOY2: Are you hard right now? FLYBOY1: Very. She didn’t know why, but she chose that second to finally glance down at her breasts, shrouded in a comfortable cotton bra today. Maybe she’d thought now that they’d turned the attention to his body, he wouldn’t notice if she looked at hers? As he’d promised, the taut peaks poked visibly through. FLYBOY1: They’re beautiful, Laura. She played dumb, sorry to have been caught studying herself. FLYBOY 2: What are you talking about? FLYBOY1: Your breasts, of course. Fucking beautiful. Watching you play with them last night made me want to slide my cock between them. Oh God. Now her heart beat between her legs. And her breasts felt huge, bigger than their C-cup size. This situation was already insane, and it seemed to be spinning more and more out of control. What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she resist the forbidden allure of their conversation? Before she could weigh the consequences, she found herself perpetuating it. FLYBOY2: How big is it? FLYBOY1: My cock? FLYBOY2: Yes. FLYBOY1: Big enough :) What guy wouldn’t say that? FLYBOY2: Big enough for what? FLYBOY1: Big enough to satisfy you. I promise. But she needed more. FLYBOY2: Too vague. Could you be more specific? FLYBOY1: Well, at the moment, it feels about the size of the Washington Monument. She couldn’t help laughing lightly. FLYBOY2: I’m looking for a number in inches, please. FLYBOY1: Sorry, honey,