Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

He slides his hand into the waistband of his underwear, and I moan. I can’t help it. I know what he’s hiding under there and how it feels to have it inside me. Repeatedly.

He moves the phone back up to his face before I get a glimpse of anything good. Well, apart from his seriously hot body. “You like that?”

“I like it better when your cock isn’t confined by stupid things like underwear. I also like it better when it’s inside me, rather than hundreds of miles away in a bedroom I can’t get to.”

“You see how solid my argument is, then?”

“I saw how solid something was. At least it looked solid. Unless you stuck a dick-shaped rod in your underwear. You should show me again.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He grins and his tongue peeks out to touch the scar on his lip.

“I already showed you mine.”

“Not without something covering it. You want more of me, you need to give me more of you.” He’s got that damn smile going. It drives me crazy.

“I’m not getting naked on video. How do I know you won’t screenshot it?” I ask.

“How’m I gonna do that with my hand in my boxers?”

I stare at his hot face and notice his arm is moving. In a very rhythmic way.

“Are you jerking off?” It’s comes out all low and breathy.

“Wanna help me out if I am?”

Now here’s an interesting fact: I’ve never had phone sex, let alone video phone sex. Based on Randy’s comfort level, I’m guessing he’s done this before. So as hot as this is, I’m feeling a little out of my element.

“I’m messing with you, Lily girl. I just wanted to see that gorgeous face of yours so it’s fresh in my mind for later.”

“Later as in after you hang up?” I squeeze my thighs together. Pressure builds as I imagine him stroking himself with the same aggression he uses when he gets me off, over and over again.

“Yeah. That’s the plan, anyway.”

I have a feeling that wasn’t his plan at all, but I’m obviously nervous enough that he’s backtracking. I wish I had the balls to follow through right now. I bite my lip, considering it.

“I’m gonna let you go so I can take care of things. ’Kay, Lily?”

“I’ll do the same over here.” My hand is already creeping down into my panties. In my head I say, or we could do it together.

“Let me know how that goes.” His eyes are heavy and his chest rises and falls faster. “Night.”

“Maybe we—” I say, but he’s already hung up. “Fuck. Shit.” I had the chance for phone sexy times, and I ruined it by not being adventurous enough. What’s wrong with me? I could’ve watched Randy come. I could’ve said dirty things to him. Except I’ve never dirty-talked unless, oooh, fuck me harder and that’s so good count. I don’t think they do.

I decide to do something either really bold or really dumb. Probably both. I stick my hand down the front of my panties and slide two fingers inside. Then I snap a picture, but only of my hand in my panties. And I send it to Randy.

I want to take it back as soon as I’ve done it. This is how people end up famous for having their girl parts splashed all over social media. But my face isn’t in the shot. No one can actually prove it’s me. Well, Randy could prove it, and possibly Benji because he’s seen all my parts up close—although he was never much of a magic-marble licker, so maybe not. He was more of a stick-it-in-and-pump-until-it’s-done guy.

I stop thinking about Benji, because he’s an asshole and not someone I care to imagine while my hand is in my underpants. I get a message back from Randy a minute later.I see how it is. Now ur not feeling shy.It’s followed by an image. It’s not a dick pic, but it’s close. Randy’s wrist peeks out of the waistband of his underwear. He’s clearly fisting his cock, and the head is peeking out as well, just a little tiny bit. It’s mostly in shadow, but it’s there.

Talk about missed opportunities. I get myself off to that picture. It doesn’t take long, so I go for round two. Once I’m sated, I pull on a pair of sweats, unlock my bedroom door, and peek into the hallway to make sure it’s clear before I hit the bathroom and wash my hands.

I’m so disappointed I won’t get to see Randy next weekend. Maybe if I could get the car for the night I could drive to Toronto and meet up with him afterward. It doesn’t hurt to ask.

***

The next morning I find my mom in the kitchen with Tim-Tom. He’s wearing plaid pajama pants, and he’s shirtless. I don’t need to see his bare, hairy chest first thing in the morning. Or ever.