Smut For Pics! 🙏

[Ar****]

Honestly if you received smut designed specifically for you, would you honestly be willing to trade?

You've been messaging back and fourth to him for two months now. Not just small talk either - discussing real things; Dreams. Work. Family. Life.

He's intelligent, gets on your nerves in all the right ways, and deliciously shameless when the mood turns, And God, does it turn.

You've never spoken on the phone.
Never heard his voice.
You don't need to.

But the way he writes to you? It's enough to make your thighs clench, your fingers slip right through your desk some days.

The way he can switch from sweet and thoughtful to absolutely filthy between messages like it's nothing. You knows exactly what kind of effect he's having on you, smiling through the screen.

You've exchanged photos, you've only ever seen him in a tight shirt with a cheeky smile, which was enough for you to send him a few photo's with a hint of cleavage. Your lips salivated slightly parted, a suggestive glance in the mirror that makes him lose his composure.

And in return, he gives you those slow-burn, edge-of-orgasm messages that leave you flushed and aching.

Biting your knuckle at your desk. In the low light, your eyes staring at the red mark caused by his message, your hand sliding off the desk, down your thighs as your pupils smile from his hot reply to your photos.

You clealy are interested in each other which is displayed from the light flirting and the occational dirty role play you do over text's;

The chemistry is maddening.
And completely untouchable.
Until tonight.

You walk into your room late at night, absolutely exhausted, skin still warm from the night air. You toss your keys, kick off your shoes, and take a well needed sit at your desk, you take a big breath in and a long sigh out.

The screen lights up. His message is waiting for you.

Nathaniel: 02/09 - 6:54pm
"Hey Stacey, i know your at work, reply when you can, I've been having dreams about you lately...weird naughty ones"

Nathaniel: 02/09 - 7:29pm
I usually wouldn't say anything, but they keep happening. I can't stop thinking about you."

Your whole body reacts before your brain catches up.
Your ovaries flipping.
Your pulse jumping.
Your heart racing.

A flush of heat rises up from your neck slowly. Much lower. and then a soft little eep escapes your lips before you even have the opportunity to stop;

You squeeze your thighs together in ecstacy.
Your skin crawls with goosebumps.
Your throat filling with saliva.

Your thoughts scrambling, you want to know everything!

Stacey: 02/09 - 10:23pm
"What kind of dreams? Were you naked? Bent over something and begging?"

Stacey: 02/09 - 10:24pm
"Or worse were you being teased by me? Keeping you on edge? Whispering dirty little threats through clenched teeth while you tremble beneath me?"

You inhale deeply through your nose, your chest rising with the tension........... and as you exhale, a low, needy mmmmmm spills from your lips without permission.

You finger's do a thorough search inside your entrance, your saturated, lightly playing with yourself.

"Nathaniel is typing...."

You type, fingers shaky with anticipation:

Stacey: 02/09 - 10:27pm
"Tell me everything, Start slow."

Nathaniel: 02/09 - 10:28pm
"Well i have this dream, where i get a video from you. 🤐"

Stacey: 02/09 - 10:28pm
"What happens in the video?😶"

Nathaniel: 02/09 - 10:31pm
"It always starts with you standing infront of the door, a few sensual moments away from me, your wearing a colourful galaxy style shirt with a black outline, your massive "assets" stretching the shirt into a tight fit around your upper body, you've got your blue jeans hugging your ass, gripping your thighs and wrapping your legs.... I feel perverted going further"

Another *eeeeeep* releases out through your lips.

On the edge of your seat you write with content:

Stacey: 02/09 - 10:31pm
"I'm intrigued now, please feel free to continue"

NATHANIEL IS TYPING.....

Nathaniel: 02/09 - 10:38pm
"If you insist; in my dream your hands gripped at the hem of your shirt, fingers curling the fabric, with deliberate intent, ***fully slow - pulling the fabricate upward stretching over your torso, until your shirt stuffed into your mouth, treating the shirt as a gag, tits exposed, purple bra reflecting your desires, hands placed on the back of your head, eyes scanning my body like a meal.

{Side note; Thankyou for the photo that allowed me to lightly experienced that purple lacey bra you intentionally sent as a tease!}

Stacey’s hands hovered over the hem of her shirt, fingers curling around the fabric with deliberate intent. Slowly, almost ***fully slow, she tugged it upward, letting it stretch over her torso before pausing mid-way, teasing the eye with the promise of movement yet to come. Every inch of fabric she lifted revealed just enough curve to make the anticipation electric.

Stacey’s hands hovered over the hem of her shirt, fingers curling around the fabric with deliberate intent. Slowly, almost ***fully slow, she tugged it upward, letting it stretch over her torso before pausing mid-way, teasing the eye with the promise of movement yet to come. Every inch of fabric she lifted revealed just enough curve to make the anticipation electric.

She twisted slightly at the waist, letting the shirt slide over her sides in a smooth, flowing motion. Her torso arched with the movement, shoulders rolling back as she lifted the shirt further, exposing more of the natural lines of her upper body. Each flex of her arms, the subtle stretch of her torso, made her presence feel charged and magnetic.

Her jeans clung to her hips and thighs, resisting ever so slightly as she hooked her fingers into the waistband. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, letting her hips sway and her legs flex as she slowly eased the fabric downward, inch by inch. Each step of the motion emphasized the curve of her lower body, the natural tension in her thighs and the rhythm of her movements.

She paused, letting the air press against the small gaps rev