The chat message came over just after lunch, a usual approach in this affair. Seated at his office chair, he didn’t have to hear the notification. There wasn’t any. The weeks long chat session of endless filth and fun kept him buzzing and alive. He knew when she would send. And vice versa.
This particular photo was of her in her vehicle. Her tits spilling out of her top, she passed along a message of how she snuck off to her car to spread her legs and rub one out to his earlier dick pic.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.”
There was something familiar in the background of this salacious photo. A local landmark. A sign from a popular restaurant. The two had never discussed much personal information when involved in this. It was a mutual agreement. The anonymity was a turn on and safety valve from letting too much push into normal everyday life. This was an outlet for sexual release, nothing more. He knew she worked in sales, that was about it. She knew he was an office drone.