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I expect him to ask me the same question I asked him. Will I show this to anybody else? About thirty seconds later, an image appears. My hand pauses on my pussy as I stare at the image, trying to convince myself I’d be able to take this, takehim.
He’s huge. Massive. Unbelievably big. I know this because he’s gripping his base in the photo, and he has big hands. His hand doesn’t even cover half of it. His cock is rock-solid, the tip glistening, veins pushing against his shaft.
I’m going to drive this cock into your body, claiming you. Fucking you hard. Fucking you so you never have to be nervous about your sexuality again. I’m so close, just thinking about you, but I don’t want to finish until you do.
I move my hand again, stroking my clit quicker, my hips shifting like whenhestroked me. However, there’s a new aspect to it now that I can see how insanely big he is. In the fantasy, I can believe I’ll be able to handle his size. I’ll be able to handle it when he becomes completely captivated by lust.
I’m getting closer. Don’t stop, please.
His reply appears almost right away.
I’ll get addicted to your pussy instantly, addicted to your hole squeezing my shaft, knowing no other man has ever fucked you before, knowing this is the first time you’ve experienced pleasure like this. As I sense you getting closer to your finish—as your horny young hole pulses around my cock—I’d lean up so I can look at you as you climax. I know that’s when I’ll finish, too. I won’t be able to stop.
My hand goes into overdrive, and the orgasm explodes, a detonation that obliterates thinking. My vision gets blurry as I stare at the photo of his manhood, and in the most starry moments of euphoria, IknowI can take it, take him and everything that comes after.
The life, the family, the love.
I just came,I reply.
Good. Send me a photo. I’m near the end. I want to see your tits.
He’s getting more commanding the hornier he becomes, and I like that. It means I don’t have to think and overthink and dread what will happen when the lust passes and we’re left with decisions to make.
Quickly taking off my shirt, I stand and arch my back, hoping to make my breasts perkier. I’m full-figured, so it’s probably a losing battle, but the thought of lust surging up Jax’s huge shaft is all the motivation I need.
Once I’ve sent the photo, a minute or so passes. Then a text arrives.
Jesus. Christ. I just exploded for you. I’ve never felt anything like that.
A smile spreads across my face, with memories of the teenage girl who never believed Jax could be attracted to me, but that was in the old days when I had a crush before I felt his lips against mine.
That was crazy,I reply.
Are you mad at me now the lust has passed?
I laugh. It’s not that his message is funny, exactly. It’s more the fiery feelings rushing around me, the aftershocks of the orgasm turning the world brighter, less anxious.
No. I just hope Peter doesn’t tell Mom.
I’ll talk to him and explain we want to tell her in our own time.
I should hold off on my reply. I’m too passionate right now, which could easily morph into anger or frustration because this passion can’t last. It has to end. We could diffuse it here and pretend nothing ever happened or keep going until it blows up in our faces.
What would we even tell her? “Hey, Mom, we’ve been texting, dirty talking, and sneaking around behind your back.”
I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that.
Then what?I press.I can’t think of an explanation that would convince her that what we’re doing is okay.
We’ll think about it and decide on the best time.
I groan, shaking my head as if he can see me.
We can’t tell her. It would break her heart.
I get it, but we can’t sneak around forever, either.
Then let’s not think about forever! Let’s focus on the now.
