Page 40 of X Marks the Stalker
Now go to your bedroom.
I move to my bedroom, lollipop in hand, heart racing.
Anonymous
Take off your shirt and pants. Then your underwear.
A voice in my head screams that this is madness. Another voice, louder and more insistent, tells that voice to shut the hell up.
My hands shake as I unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my legs. I hook my thumbs in my underwear, looking directly at where I think the camera must be, and push them down in one decisive movement.
Anonymous
Sit on the edge of your bed.
I perch on the edge of my mattress, the lollipop clutched in my hand. I feel ridiculous. I feel powerful. I feel more turned on than I’ve been in years.
My phone vibrates with another message.
Anonymous
Put it in your mouth. I want to watch you suck it.
Heat floods my core as I bring the lollipop to my lips, maintaining eye contact with the camera I imagine is somewhere in front of me as I slide it past my teeth. The sweet, artificial cherry-berry flavor bursts on my tongue as I hollow my cheeks around it.
Anonymous
Slower. Make it last.
I slow my movements, drawing the candy out before pushing it back in, mimicking a more intimate act. Theknowledge that he watches me, directs me, makes everything more intense.
My phone rings. I answer, putting it on speaker.
“You look good with it in your mouth,” he says, his voice deep and rich through the speaker. “I wish it was my cock in there.”
“Is this what you think about when you watch me?” I ask, pulling the lollipop from my lips with a soft pop.
“Among other things,” he admits. “Now, trace it down your neck.”
I tilt my head back, dragging the wet candy down the column of my throat, leaving a sticky trail that cools in the air.
“Lower,” he instructs, his voice rougher now.
I draw the lollipop between my breasts, down my stomach, circling my navel. The sticky sweetness leaves a colorful path on my skin.
“Now between your legs,” he says. “Tease yourself with it.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I whisper, even as I spread my thighs wider.
“But you want to,” he counters, his voice knowing. “You’ve been thinking about me since the gallery. Since my fingers touched you in a room full of people who had no idea what was happening under that tablecloth.”
He’s right. God help me, he’s right.
“Fuck,” I breathe, bringing the lollipop to my center. The cool, hard candy against my heated flesh makes me gasp.
“Circle your clit,” he directs. “Don’t press too hard. Just enough to feel it.”
I follow his instructions, tracing the lollipop around mysensitive bud in slow, deliberate circles. The contrast of the hard candy against my soft flesh sends shivers through me.
