The Morning Text Message


“Wear a jacket with only your bra and panties underneath,” read the text message that appeared on my screen. I was in a Zoom work meeting when I had gotten startled by the buzzing of the phone in my lap. As I read the message, a warm flush crossed my face. I guiltily looked at the faces of the other meeting attendees, but they did not react.

The night before, after a few glasses of wine, I had boldly given a man from Tinder my actual phone number. Normally, I would not have done this, but with his insistence, I looked him up on LinkedIn and saw that he was a real person with a somewhat public job. I figured that I wasn’t being catfished and he was probably not a sociopath.

We had flirted by text last night, and we had joked about meeting up during the workday. I assumed it was one of those conversations where the person disappeared into thin air the next day. It was the tacit agreement made between the Tinder users. You could share your deepest, darkest feelings with the 1/2 inch headshot, a flickering cursor, and a series of 1s and 0s. The next minute, they could be gone and never to be seen from again. For me, it only became “real” when I was sitting across from the person, observing the way they use their hands when they talk and seeing their chests heaving up and down with each breath.

Looking down at my phone again, I saw that he was still typing. I felt a rush of warmth flood my lap, and my stomach felt like I had just dropped 1,000 feet. The next text was an address and, “Come now.”

I wanted to go. I wanted to go right now. But then my brain kicked into gear, and I started thinking about all the true crime podcasts I’ve been listening to at night. The woman gets into her car after speaking to a man online and is never heard from again.

On the other hand, though, I haven’t had sex in months, and I found the way this man firmly gave me directions exciting. I liked that he referred to me as “dear” and didn’t use the modifiers like “maybe sometime” or “only if you want” like some of the less-assertive younger men I have chatted with Anadolu Yakası Escort did.

Fuck it. “OK,” I texted back. And then, on impulse, concerned that I may have agreed to something I had forgotten last night, I typed, “You will be nice?”

What kind of response was I even hoping for? Thankfully, the response that came, was satisfactory. “Yes, dear, of course.”

The meeting wrapped up, and I clicked “Leave” on Zoom. I rushed to my bedroom to change out of my zoom leisurewear and into something more appropriate for the occasion. A black, plunging bra pushing my ample breasts together and matching bikini panties. I looked at myself in the mirror from the front and the side. I liked the symmetry in how my chest and hips flared out from my waist. I was already not following his directions as he asked me to wear just a bra, panties, and a jacket. I’m sure a “good submissive” would have done just that.

I’ve never felt quite comfortable with the word “submissive” and wasn’t prepared to call anyone “Daddy” or “Master”. However, my days at work were spent giving directions and making decisions. The idea of handing that over to someone else was not as attractive in work, but in sex, it was exhilarating.

In my car, the fluttering of the butterflies became more and more rapid with every mile I drove. His house was next to a park bordering the lake, the jewel of the urban city landscape. I texted him, “Here,” and got out of my car. Smoothing down my dress and running a hand through my hair, I tried to settle my rapidly beating heart as I approached his front door.

I knocked, and he opened it immediately. He looked exactly as he looked in the pictures, but his full grin was even larger and sexier in real life. I was only 5′ tall, and I could see that I was eye level with his chest as he had a full foot on me. I looked around to see the townhouse was immaculately clean and tastefully appointed with mid-century modern furniture and art.

I removed my black heels and put my purse down by the door. An easy escape route! He approached me and enveloped me in a big hug. He was sturdy against me, warm, and smells like freshly-baked croissants. The hug was cut short as he pushed me against the wall and began to kiss me deeply. His mouth was hot, and his kisses traveled hungrily around my lips, mouth, and tongue. I kissed him back, relieved that he was a good kisser. The kissing was an even give-and-take, yet the leg he had inserts between my thighs, pushing the legs apart, showed me that he was the one in control.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he moaned as he pulled away from my mouth, cupping my left breast with his entire hand and using his thumb to rub my nipple in small circles. He pulled my dress off my shoulders, and it slid to the ground.

“Sit down over there,” he instructed as he pointed to the chaise section of the couch. I hesitated, looking at the bottle of champagne on his coffee table, two flutes on either side.

I walked toward the couch and hesitated.

“Were you going to offer me a drink?” I aided. I was hoping to buy some time to slow down my racing heart.

“Later.” He pushed me down onto the couch and kneeled in between my legs.

I arched back slightly, propping myself up with my hands.

“Spread your legs, but keep your panties on.”

I began to part my legs very slowly, aware of his hot breath on my inner thighs. I wondered why he wanted to keep my panties on. Maybe he liked the idea of sliding them down my legs or watching me pull them down my legs.

“Use your hand and move your panties to the side so I can see you.”

Following his order, I slid my panties towards my right side, fully aware of my engorged lips bulging out towards the left. Without hesitation, he leaned in and began to delicately flick my clit with his wet, warm tongue. He increased the pressure of his licks as his tongue drew small circles around my clit.

I was burning with arousal, and I felt like I could cum at any moment. Just as I was close to orgasm, he would switch from the up and down licks to the swirls. I lay back on the couch and closed my eyes as his upturned finger entered my slit. With his left hand pushing my thigh to the side and his tongue on my clit, he started to slowly curl up his finger, making contact with the soft tissue of my g-spot.

I knew that if I tried to stop him, he would just keep going. He was in charge and deftly controlling his tongue and fingers. Yet, I was the one who was still pulling my panties to the side, holding open the door, giving my silent consent.

He inserted a second finger, and the pressure at my g-spot increased. It was as if a small balloon were being inflated inside me. The empty space in my vagina was now being filled with the pressure of my engorged parts and, of course, his fingers.

I wanted to cum but, at the same time, I didn’t want it to stop.

He withdrew his fingers from my pussy and continued to swirl his tongue around my cunt. I was disappointed, thinking I needed that pressure on the g-spot to come. I pulled my panties to the side as far as they could go and scooted myself down a few inches to get closer to this tongue, lips, and warm breath.

“Do you want to cum now?” he asked as he pulled his mouth away, a wicked smile on his face.

All the blood had rushed from my brain, and I felt fuzzy and light. All I could muster was a nod of my back and forth, as I couldn’t even put together a simple “yes”.

He dropped his mouth back to my slit, licking up and down with long, wet sticky laps until it settled back on my clit. He swirled his tongue around and around, building up pressure. I heard someone yelling, “Yes, yes! Oh God, yes!” and realized the voice was my own. I came all over his tongue and mouth. I tried to push his head away slightly, but he didn’t budge. He affixed his mouth to my clit as the waves of powerful orgasm rolled through me and into his mouth.

I unhooked my finger from the crotch of my panties, and the material inched back towards my swollen lips. After a few minutes, I slowly raised myself to a sitting position. He had taken a seat on the couch and had been watching me as I lay in repose.

His mouth turned upwards into a giant grin. “Now, it’s time for you to get fucked.”

To be continued…

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