DIRTY DREAMS
“Slower. I want to watch you build.”
I slow down. Barely touching my clit – featherlight circles that keep me on edge without pushing me forward. On screen, his hand matches my pace – long, slow strokes, his thumb swiping across his head on each upstroke in a way that we’re synchronized, matching rhythms across three thousand miles.
“Slide your fingers lower,” he says. “I want to watch you push them inside.”
I slide down. My fingers tracing through my folds – slick, soaked, parting easily. I circle my entrance. Look at the camera. Look at his face on the screen – jaw tight, eyes locked on my hand between my legs and his hard cock in his fist.