Desire For A Reply Novels & Stories

I send the text while my pussy twitches with desire, begging for the man of my dreams to come and please it, and then I send the photo. Once they've both gone through, I turn and head into my room so I can collapse on my bed until my phone dings. The response is fairly quick, and I'm happy to find that L is still awake; otherwise, I would be left waiting until the following morning to see just what he thought. Rolling over, I brace myself as I open the response that is waiting for me. L: You know the rules. Ugh, that wasn't what I was wanting in return at all.

My fingers hover over the screen for a long moment before I finally type: “Hey... I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I left things. If it’s not too much, could I come over later today? I just... want to talk.” I hit send before I can change my mind. My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the screen, waiting for his reply. I try to imagine what must be going through his mind. Does he feel victorious about the fact he must have won me over? My phone beeps, drawing me back to the present, and I grab it immediately to see it’s his reply:

I type rapidly and hit send. He doesn't take long to reply, almost as though he was waiting for me to send it. The text is simple. I will do whatever you want, my love.

Waiting for an answer. Or a kiss.

Do not execute mitigation efforts prematurely. I sent the text. It was a clear, coded message: I read it. I want it. But you must stick to the plan. It was my way of reasserting the control he had momentarily surrendered to emotion. I waited five seconds. The message remained. Good. He wasn't going to reply or delete. The communication was closed.

I hit send, then collapsed back against the pillows, still lazily circling my sensitive clit as I waited for the reply that would surely come. Thirty minutes passed. Nothing. An hour. My pussy was aching again, already hungry despite the orgasms. Three hours later, I was a mess — legs spread, fingers buried deep inside myself once more, edging desperately while staring at my phone. The need was torture, that familiar angry fire burning through my veins. Why wasn’t he answering? Had he forgotten how good my tight cunt felt wrapped around him? Then the phone buzzed.

] She replied again and somehow I felt happy when I read that simple message. I immediately typed a reply, ["I will accompany you. How about a phone call?"] I hope she will give me her number. But, unfortunately, what I expected did not happen. ["Mm, I don't think so. I mean, I'm not ready to have a casual conversation with any guy."] She replied. The reply from her was quite disappointing, but I didn't give up and immediately typed a reply message, ["Then, how about you tell me something about yourself? I would be happy to read it."]

"Website? What website?" "It's a website where we post things about gossip and stuff it's kinda like that show I watch called Gossip Girl." She sat at the edge of my desk, typing on her phone. "Anyway, Seth has commitment issues, but he was in an interview yesterday, and he said he might try to find a woman at the ice ball that catches his eyes. And hopefully, that's me," she stated confidently. "Well good luck with that. There thousands of other girls out there just saying," I told her as she leaved.

After sending this I waited for hardly 10 minutes when my mobile screen flicker. “Hey Miss Natasha, how may I help you?” He replied. I stared at the reply for a while. “Um, hi, I'm sorry, I know it's kind of late, but I need to clear my doubts on something…” “Sure, what's that,” he answered after a moment. I typed him a question and this time I waited for a straight 30 minutes. Like seriously why he is not answering I was getting mad now and tried to type him again when I saw his reply which was unexpected. I couldn't think properly at the moment. I was just reading 'That text' again and again with blank mind where he said, “I want to clear your doubt, but before that send me your pictures,

Just let me know if you’re okay. I didn’t know I already pressed the send button until I heard this short beeping tone that meant the message was successfully sent. I read the message again and it appeared desperate and I was in fact, desperate. I really want something to hold on to and just a simple reply from Ambrose would do. I found myself typing another message. ME: I know you’re ignoring me but please, I just want to know if you’re doing okay. I pressed the send button and eventually returned my phone to my pocket.