“I’m bored” she texted him. She worked overnights sitting at a huge front desk of a small office building that was quiet as a library most nights, On a busy night, she would only encounter a half dozen people coming and going odd hours. She looked at the time on her phone. 1:13 AM Eastern.
“Sorry to hear that” he replied, “but I have to call it a night.” It was 10:13 PM Pacific, he was relaxed from bourbon, and ready for bed. Work came early. But she was his weakness, she haunted his thoughts.
“Oh, please…” she typed.
“OK let’s play a quick game. If I win you send me a picture, right there at your work station.”
She felt a nervous quiver. “What if you lose?”
“I won’t he said confidently. Here are the rules, I have 5 minutes to make you soaking wet, and 10 minutes to make you cum. You can’t hold back. You don’t need to do anything but be in the moment and relax.”
She giggled and texted “Deal. If I win, you owe me a wish. I’m starting the clock.”
“I want you to picture me there with you. I’m sinking into your big brown eyes. I can’t look away. I have to reach out and touch your cheek, Your skin is soft and warm, my hand trails to your neck.”
“Nice start,” she texted back, “but the clock is ticking.” Despite her bravado, she felt her pulse quicken. She should have never told him how horny she constantly was, how wet she got, and how she could orgasm just by contracting her thighs.
“I’m playing Portishead for you. The rhythm is starting to make you breath harder. My hand goes to your blouse and cups your breast through the fabric. It’s silky, and your breast is warm, fitting my hand. I lean in and whisper, ‘Cause nobody loves me, Its true, Not like you do.’”
Absent of thought, she ran her own left hand over her breast, unbuttoned her blouse and cupped her own breast under her bra. Her nipple stiffened and she gave it a small pinch.
He continued, “The fragrance of you intoxicates me, making me grow incredibly hard. I take your hand and place it in my lap, you can feel my reaction to the beauty that is you. Its not in my control. My pulse is so fast and you can feel it in my cock.”
Alone, in the office lobby, she sighed, and it echoed. Her blouse was unbuttoned, her right breast was out of the cup of her bra. She could feel the cold AC on her nipple. She started pulsing the muscles of her thighs and pelvis. A bead of sweat formed on her brow.
“Something about you draws me in like a moth to the flame. I am hypnotized by your sexuality. I circle closer. My lips gently land on your cheek, then on your mouth. My hand now finds your pants. The material is soft and thin. I undo the button and slowly unzip your pants.”
“Oh god, you are good at this,” she typed back. Already she could feel the moisture in her panties. The heat coming from in there radiated. She had to set the phone down on the desk. She undid her pants and slid a hand into her panties. There they met a small soft patch of trimmed hair, and below a slickness. She bit her lip as she found her clit.
The phone read 1:18. Just then she heard the elevator doors open and footsteps clapping off the hard tile. As fast as she could she pulled her hands from her pants and tried to button her blouse. She had time for one button. She prayed who ever it was would walk out without so much as looking her way. She was not so lucky.
“Hey sweetie, can you mail this for me in the morning,” said Mr. Johnson. He held out a few envelopes. She grabbed them. As she did she could see her wetness on her fingers, they glistened. Quickly she put the envelopes on her desk.
Mr. Johnson looked at her quizzically. “You OK, hon? You look flushed like you are coming down with something?”
“I’m OK,” she said, and with a wave he left.
1:20 AM. If she held out three more minutes, she would win. But did she want to?
She grabbed her phone. 3 texts from him while she was distracted.
“My hand finds your pussy and it’s wet and waiting, I slide in one finger easily because it’s so wet. I slide in two fingers with more difficultly because it’s so tight. My thumb finds your clit.”
She unzipped her pants and pulled them to her ankles. If anyone came in and out of her lobby she would be fired, but she didn’t care. She was in a sexual frenzy. She slid two fingers into her tight sex, The wetness spilled into her palm like a dam busting. She read the next text. It was short.
“I have to be inside you. Now and every day from now.” She furiously rubbed her clit, wetness poured out of her like her restraint, soaking her chair. She read the third text, or rather looked at it. It was him, shirtless on his bed, across the country. His shoulders were broad, his abdomen was firm and muscled. At the very bottom of the picture, his hand was wrapped around his rigid cock, the head and a few inches of its length peeked from his grip. It looked menacingly large.
She came and came once again. Her senses slowly came back to her. Her fingers were drenched. She tasted herself. She almost came again. It was 1:23 AM.
She sent him his picture. In it she looked up at him, one hand holding the camera over her face, her blouse open, a nipple peeking out. Her other hand cupped her sex.
“That is the hottest thing I have ever seen” he texted.
She giggled. “Bonus for the second orgasm” she typed. With it she send a picture of her wet fingers, a pool of wetness filled her palm.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ehygse/a_cross_country_contest_by_text
Lost for words……..