yeah but
doesn’t that make me like
messed up?
Not even a little.
It just means you don’t want to be in charge for once.
but i should
i mean evan always said
Evan is a fucking idiot.
…
he made me feel bad for wanting these things
like something was wrong with me
Nothing is wrong with you.
These aren’t bad things to want.
They’re natural.
i just don’t know what to do with them
because i do want to explore them
but no one i’ve been with ever has
Then you haven’t been with the right men.
…
You want someone to chase you, catch you, make you surrender.
You want to be tied up and teased until you’re shaking.
You want to be claimed, taken, owned.
fuck
i shouldn’t be talking about this
But you are.
And I think you want to keep going.
…maybe
Tell me more.
you really want me to keep going?
Yes.
I want you to tell me a full fantasy.
Start to finish.
Every filthy detail.
fuck
okay um
so i guess i picture something like
me being hunted
Hunted?
yeah
like i’m running through the woods
and i know someone is after me
i don’t know who at first
but i can feel them watching me
tracking me
Keep going.
i try to run faster
but they catch me
tackle me to the ground
pin me down
Holding you there, keeping you trapped.
yes
whispering in my ear that i was never getting away
that they were always going to catch me
And what happens next?
they start touching me
rough hands everywhere
pushing my legs apart
making me beg for it
Would you?
Would you beg?
yes
because i know they won’t give me what i need until i do
Good girl.
fuck
i’m getting really turned on
I know.
So am I.
what??
You heard me.
And now I want to hear you.
what do you mean??
It’s an option.
Look at the top of the chat.
See the phone icon?
holy shit
Mmm.
But first, I want you to do something for me.
what?
Get into your bed.
Strip naked.
And send me a photo so I know you did.
omg
you are SO demanding
And you love it.
No arguments.
Do it.
…
okay
Photo sent.
Fuck yes.
Now—call me.
SELF-AWARE, SEXUALLY DOOMED, AND KINDA LAUGHING ABOUT IT
CAL
This is a mistake.
I know that.
And still, I can't stop myself.
The moment she sends that picture—her body, bare, stretched across her navy blue sheets like a fucking dream—I'm gone. The warm glow of her bedside lamp casting shadows across the gentle curves of her hips, the fullness of her thighs, the soft swell of her breasts.
I want to hear her.
I need to hear her.
I want to listen to her fall apart in my ear.
I want to stroke my cock while she does it, chasing my own release in time with hers.
I want to think about her lips on mine when I let go.
Fuck.
I quickly flip through my phone, making sure the voice modulator is active.
This is so fucking risky.
Texting is one thing. A call is another.
A call is dangerous.
But she's been drinking, and she wants this.
Wants me.
No one's ever taken an interest in her like this before—that much is obvious. She's so pent up, frisky with need, weighed down by so much shame about her body, about her desires.
And I should be building her up the right way.
She trusts me. That much was clear tonight.
And instead of treating that trust like it's fucking sacred—
I press Call.
There's a pause.
"H-hello?"
Her voice is soft, with the faint huskiness that comes from drinking wine.
I close my eyes, fisting my cock at the sound.
Fuck.
"Hi, pretty girl."
She inhales sharply.
"Oh my God."
I chuckle. "Not quite, sweetheart."
She laughs nervously. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this."
"You don't have to," I murmur.
"I want to."
Fuck, yes.
"Good girl," I say, stroking myself slowly.
She whimpers.
And that little sound?
That sound is going to fucking ruin me.
"Are you comfortable?" I ask.
She shifts. I can hear the creak of her mattress, the whisper of cotton against skin. "Y-yeah. Just... nervous."
"I know," I soothe. "Just focus on my voice."
"Okay."
A small pause.
"Um," she murmurs, her voice dropping. "So... my friend Amanda. She, uh, has a thing she does."
