[ It's almost a sort of torture, waiting for her next picture, listening intently for even the faintest sound coming from the massive closet, but the sweetest sort, the kind that leaves him aching and tingling with anticipation. And when she does treat him, moaning in that sweet, low way he loves, sending him an image that leaves him reeling and staring, cock giving an eager little twitch against the sheer silk of her panties?
He groans again— fuck, nami— as his hips squirm and buck, now draping the panties over the painfully hard length of his cock, the head exposed as precum beads and dribbles from his slit. It's filthy, but they're both so shameless that he sends her a picture of it anyway. ]
consider it done, gorgeous, because yeah, i wanna see that so bad. next time we go out on a date, how about i fuck you right before we go, too? i'll spend the whole damn evening playing with your pussy and seeing if you need more of my cum.
[ She will, he's sure of it, and really, that's the whole point, just like restraint has suddenly become the point here. Despite his earlier promise, the inherent thrill in this— in listening to the rising moans of pleasure, in waiting for the next picture— keeps him rooted here, hand picking up the pace as it strokes and glides over his cock faster, legs spreading open a bit more to give him more room. The sound he makes at her next picture is somewhere between a whimper and a gasp— and loud enough to be heard either way— as he contorts a little to rake curtly-clipped nails over his shoulder and neck, just like she likes to do.
And then a moment later comes his next picture, panties almost completely bunched up in the palm of his hand, shaft exposed and obviously coated with her slickness, opaque droplets of precum obvious on the dark lace. ]
nothing feels better than filling you up, love. your cunt was made for me, i swear, made to take my cock because it feels so damn good that it drives me wild. i'm already thinking about it, you know? about how after you come on my tie, i'm gonna pull you into my arms, carry you to bed, and fuck your pretty cunt over and over and over until we're both spent and covered in one another's scent, claim you just like i did back in the omegadome.
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He groans again— fuck, nami— as his hips squirm and buck, now draping the panties over the painfully hard length of his cock, the head exposed as precum beads and dribbles from his slit. It's filthy, but they're both so shameless that he sends her a picture of it anyway. ]
consider it done, gorgeous, because yeah, i wanna see that so bad. next time we go out on a date, how about i fuck you right before we go, too? i'll spend the whole damn evening playing with your pussy and seeing if you need more of my cum.
[ She will, he's sure of it, and really, that's the whole point, just like restraint has suddenly become the point here. Despite his earlier promise, the inherent thrill in this— in listening to the rising moans of pleasure, in waiting for the next picture— keeps him rooted here, hand picking up the pace as it strokes and glides over his cock faster, legs spreading open a bit more to give him more room. The sound he makes at her next picture is somewhere between a whimper and a gasp— and loud enough to be heard either way— as he contorts a little to rake curtly-clipped nails over his shoulder and neck, just like she likes to do.
And then a moment later comes his next picture, panties almost completely bunched up in the palm of his hand, shaft exposed and obviously coated with her slickness, opaque droplets of precum obvious on the dark lace. ]
nothing feels better than filling you up, love. your cunt was made for me, i swear, made to take my cock because it feels so damn good that it drives me wild. i'm already thinking about it, you know? about how after you come on my tie, i'm gonna pull you into my arms, carry you to bed, and fuck your pretty cunt over and over and over until we're both spent and covered in one another's scent, claim you just like i did back in the omegadome.