"Are you wet?"
"God, yes."
"How can you tell?"
I lick my lips. "I'm finger-fucking myself," I admit. "I'm imagining it's you."
"Good girl," he says, and his voice is strangled. "I'm going to send you a video. This woman on my cock who should be you. I want you to ride your fingers while you watch. I want you to come."
"Okay."
"Don't say, 'okay,' baby. You say, 'Yes, sir.' "
I moan, even more aroused by this new order. "Yes, sir," I say obediently. And then, "Dallas?" I cringe a little, because I'm so blatantly breaking this new rule, but the question is important.
"Yes?"
"The video won't--I mean, you're not going down on her, are you?"
"Do you want me to? Do you want me to eat her out and pretend it's you?"
"No." The word comes fast. Immediate.
"Good answer, baby."
"Dallas, this really is fucked up."
"Sweetheart, we've barely scratched the surface."
I swallow, wondering just where this could lead.
"Watch the video," he orders. "Get yourself off. Then go home. Wait for me in your living room. In the leather recliner. No reading. No watching television. And no touching yourself." The command in his voice is like a caress. "I'll come to you."
"When?" I am breathless.
"Will you wait for me?"
"Yes," I promise. I think right then I'd wait forever.
"Then does it matter?"
I say nothing.
"And, baby? Wear a silk robe. And don't wear anything under it."
I came so hard in the powder room watching that video. Watching another woman suck his cock. Pretending I was her. Knowing that Dallas was pretending the same thing.
Listening as he groaned. As he murmured, "Christ, I want you," and I knew he was talking to me, not her.
I touched myself as he tugged his stiff cock from her mouth and then pushed her back onto the bed. He kept his phone in one hand and wrapped his other around his cock as he told her to lie back. To pull up her dress.
She was bare beneath, and I imagined that was me. That I was lying back on the bed, my dress up around my tits, my legs spread wide and willing. My chest felt tight, and I realized I was afraid he was going to fuck her or go down on her despite what he'd promised me.
And although I was surprised to realize that some tiny, perverse part of me actually wanted to watch him do just that, I was relieved when he didn't touch her at all. Instead he stood over her, the camera on his erection. On his hand. On his cock.
His words made me dizzy. "Only you, baby. Only you." And when he came on the anonymous woman's belly, I actually screamed from the hard, wild violence of my orgasm.
It was kinky. It was fucked up. And it was an absolute, total, unexpected turn on.