I have a friend. I like to keep their dirty little secrets. This person without fail texts me every profane and deviant interaction they have. It's known that I don’t mind the dirty (as long as it is consensual of course). I know who it is every time I get their text. I have a special tone for this one to warn me. When I open the message it could be a sprawling story of his erotic encounters, it could be a photo of someone tied up, touching themselves, or even his lovely penis buried in someone's ass. So, I take caution and open them when I am alone. For two reason, I want to spare anyone else from embarrassment upon seeing the smut I am sent, and second, I know how much it turns me one and as much as I enjoy being aroused in public, I am taken over the edge by his revelations. As soon as I divulge I have this unbearable need to reach down and touch myself as soon as I am able.
On my way back from the city I hear the sound of his text. Immediately I've become wet. I realize how much this pattern has conditioned me. There is no one around so I know I can take a pea... but I am also a bit masochistic and like to suffer just a little, so I withhold until I am alone. I wonder what it could be this time. Did he finally fuck his boss in their office? Did he tie up the tits of another innocent looking girl, coming all over them as he eagerly fucks her pussy with one of his homemade high-powered dildoes? Or was it his best friend’s cock he’s been waiting to get fucked by? I frustrate myself more just fantasizing of the details. How he met them, what was the charm that led to his success, who got fucked and where. I've created an entire world, with just one sound.
My little deviant, my sweet James. One of the most imaginative and fluid lovers I’ve met. When I returned home, I set the space. I made my bed, rolled up a joint, found the most powerful vibrator I have, and laid in bed. My legs had fallen open, pussy exposed to the cool air, dripping wet already, I took out my phone and opened the text….