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Jet: so if I’m your sext pal, do you want to know what I’d do to your ankles?
Ari: This had better not be some kind of weird sex kink …
Jet: I’d run a finger over your skin, kiss your ankle and keep heading up your leg, see where you’re ticklish. And I already know you’re ticklish behind your knees
Ari: that’s it?
Jet: I’d keep going until you’re begging me to be inside you. I’d hook both your ankles over my shoulders and fuck you and just before you’re about to come, I’d kiss both and then finish you so hard you wouldn’t even remember your name
Ari: holy shit
Jet: is that what you want as sext pals, Ari? Because the night with you in your van was hot. So if you want to send photos of your ankle, or any other part of your body, I’ll be thinking about what it would be like to have my tongue, mouth, hands on every part of you, making you wet for me.
Jet: Ari?
Jet: Shit, I’m sorry. I read too much into your texts about sexting. Fuck, Ari. I thought you were flirting
Jet: Fuck, please. Talk to me.
Ari: I’m here.
Ari: Shit, Jet. I’m a little worked up here
Ari: I’ll need to take care of myself now
Jet: You just
Jet: *large eyes emoji* Holy fuck. Like, touch yourself? Because of my texts?
Ari: you’re *very good* at sexting
Jet: I’ll never doubt the power of an ankle pic ever again.
Jet: Fuck. I am at full mast and I’m at work. And my break is almost up.
Ari: Think of that shearing job you have next week. Think of the south fence that fell over last week and how much it’s costing you in repairs
Jet: Those were pretty good turnoffs but no offence … just heard your mother outside the male toilets. That sorted out my problem
Ari: LOL! Debra to the rescue! Poor Wonder Dick! Now, if I was in town …
Jet: Don’t you fucking dare text another word
Jet: but if you’re awake later …
Jet: I will be late. Long shift at the pub
Jet: But I’m keen if you’re keen
Ari: Text me when you’re home and we can talk *winky face emoji*
Ari
The first storm of spring was rumbling outside, bringing wind and rain. It was very late when my phone rang. Jet was calling, just as he promised.
We’d been texting for months now after our speed-dating hook-up. Lots of friendly banter. And calls. Mostly to watch movies together, both of us bored or killing time. Our banter had been flirty, but nothing has happened. I was guilty of pushing the line on just being friends so many times.
Those photos of me in my bikini were a thirst trap. And I’d totally sent them to him to see his reaction. And he’d been a gentleman, driving me crazy as well as managing to impress me.
