You’re on this sub, when all of a sudden…

You’ve stumbled across this sub and begun scrolling. It’s late. You really need to rub one out but you’re in the mood for something a little more cerebral. We’ve all been there, it’s no biggie.

You’re not looking for anything in particular, but a title jumps out at you. *[F] I masturbated to the thought of my friend.*

Now you’re blushing a little, because that one hits rather close to home. You know who you’re thinking of now. Her. Yes, *her*. The friend you wish was more than a friend. You can relate to this writer, alright. You feel a little shy, but your curiosity is piqued, and you click and begin reading.

The prose is… good. Eloquent and vivid. You can almost picture the writer in your mind’s eye as you read, and the outpouring of unbridled lust that went into these words… after all, you’re in a pretty similar position yourself. They’ve given an equally vivid description of themselves, too, and frankly they sound like exactly your type. You keep on reading.

The writer describes her fantasy in lewd, lurid detail, and her own actions along with it. The words seem to float off the page. With each sentence, you can picture her: slamming and locking the door to her bedroom, shimmying hastily out of her clothes, laying on her bed propped up against the pillows, and as she describes reaching impatiently between her thighs, it’s impossible not to be visited by the same urge yourself.

Still it goes on. The writer describes her visions of her friend spreading her legs, fingers teasing through her labia, tracing slow teasing circles on her clitoris, as she mimics those same motions herself with her own hands. The lust, the dreaminess… it’s familiar to you too, of course. You’ve had similarly risqué thoughts, about that one friend you can’t get off of your mind, and it still makes you flush a little to think about it. But perhaps everyone has thoughts like these, if this is anything to go by.

But it’s not just the theme of the fantasy that feels familiar. As you read on and the story gets raunchier and raunchier, other similarities start jumping out at you. The speech patterns of the writer remind you of someone. And the friend who occupies their fantasies seems to share some familiar traits, as the writer waxes lyrical about them, their figure, their eyes, their smile…

But it’s only as you reach the bottom of the page that it hits you. The writer’s fantasy reaches its climax, and she climaxes on her bed along with it, and as you feel a chill as you imagine her taut, quivering body and her hips bucking into her fingers, the realisation lands squarely in your lap. Two realisations. The first? The writer, the gorgeous girl with this wild secret online life… is her. It’s the girl you can’t stop thinking about. Your friend. Those are her words, all her familiar turns of phrase; the bedroom she’s described is the one you’ve sat and binged shows and chatted in countless times before. She sounded just like your type because… she was. She is.

The second realisation, as you scroll back and wonder how you could have failed to see it from the start?

You are the fantasy. *You’re* the friend that *she’s* thinking about.

You stare at the screen, at the words that have now taken on an entirely new meaning, and wonder how you could have missed it. Maybe you were just unobservant. Maybe you’re bad at reading signals. Maybe- maybe you didn’t want to notice, because it would mean you’d have to do something about it. Not just dream idly, but… act. Stop wasting time, and tell her how you feel. Which is a little scary, but a lot more exciting.

Or, maybe just ask if she wants to go see a movie, and see where things go. That’s okay too.

But whatever it is… it doesn’t have to be just a fantasy any longer.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/xldd0x/youre_on_this_sub_when_all_of_a_sudden