My breath is quick and flustered, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
I want to, I tell him.
Cautiously I edge to the back of the tiny room, fitting my shoulders between two tall metal shelving units. I don't think anyone would come in here, but just in case…
I want to just look at you until you’re wet for me. Until you’re soaked through your panties.
I'm so wet right now, I confess.
Of course you are. And you know what I want. You know what I want to do to you.
You want me to… I stop, afraid to text more, as though writing the words is as real as doing the deed. My body is throbbing so intensely, I feel like something is definitely happening to me.
Tell me.
The door to this room doesn't lock, and I keep glancing at the pale metal handle, expecting it to jiggle at any time.
You want me, I write, knowing it’s not enough.
…
Tell me more.
I take a few deep breaths. He's already opened the door, already got further than I thought we were going to. Can I tell him? Can I really even put it into words?
I want you to see me, I text, my fingers trembling so hard I barely get the letters right. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to feel your weight over me.
And then what?
I hold my breath. I remember the dream, the way his shadow moved across me like the moon eclipsing the sum. The way his weight covered me all at once. The way his body fit along mine, threatening to either break me or fill me, I didn't know which.
And I want your cock, I type, shaking hard. I want to touch it. I want to wrap my fingers around it.
Yeah. I want to give it to you. I want to stretch you over my big, fat cock.
I'm so hard for you right now, he continues. I read each word hungrily, over and over. Is this really happening?
You want to see?
Blinking, I moan into the silence of the empty room. I do. More than anything. My body shudders and clenches with waves of desire, pulses of something I've never felt before. It's like light or electricity.
Show me, I type back.
In a few moments, another image pops up. This is a video. The preview image is his familiar, broad palm, cradling his hard, thick cock. I can make out the veins swirling across the surface, and a gleaming jewel at the tip. It's pointed at the camera, so enticing it makes my mouth water.
I press the triangular Play button and watch, enthralled. His hand moves up and down the shaft, his wrist rolling nimbly as he works his cock, pumping two, three, four times. Then he pauses, and swells. Before I realize what's happening, he comes, the white, thick liquid spurting out in a abstract loop that fountains from the tip and drips over his rigid hand.
My mouth falls open. The video stops and the Play button reappears.
I’m panting, shocked. I press play again and watch the entire sequence, completely rapt. I've never seen this before. It's thrilling, strangely beautiful,.
And when video stops… and just disappears.
I gasp, panicked. What did I just do? Did I lose it? Did I somehow broadcast it? Oh my God. What just happened?
I call Bunny in a panic.
“Hey, I can't talk right now,” she says in a rush when she picks up the phone. “Lunch rush isn’t even over yet. I'll call you right back —”