Page 22 of Stitch
Cammy
Icouldn’t believe heasked for a pic, but more than that, I couldn’t believe I actually sent one! I was definitely blaming the wine. He didn’t say what kind of pic, but in the end I didn’t want to play, so I took an actual selfie of me in bed, holding up my almost empty wine glass. I was wearing a slinky vest, and didn’t look horrendous in it.
Long agonising seconds passed after I sent it, and I wondered if it had gone through, then I panicked that I’d sent it to someone else, and then I saw that he had sent a pic back. I wondered idly if it’d be a dick pic, but strangely I hoped not.
And it wasn’t. He was sitting up in bed in a dimly lit room, bare chested and gorgeous. I found myself enlarging the picture, which wasn’t great quality, because I wanted to see as much of him as possible. Oh wow.
Me:Is that a pierced nipple?
Another pic came through, a close up of said nipple, and yeah, there was a bar going through it, and I didn’t realise just how sexy that was until I saw it on someone like him. Well, let’s be honest, specifically on him. Wow.
Me:Do you likeit being touched?
What the fuck did I send that for?!
Stitch:Touched, licked, sucked… all of the above.
I squirmed on the bed, my legs squeezing together at the short but provocative message. My god, I wanted to try.
Me:Are you flirting with me, Stitch? I really don’t think I know you well enough for that.
Stitch:Only one way to resolve that, girl. Get to know me. Maybe that’s not my only piercing.
Screw it. I’m touching myself; I can’t help it. I needed to get off, and he was playing with me, teasing me, probably even trying to encourage me to touch myself. Oh god, what if he guessed that was what I was doing.
Stitch:You got any piercings? Tattoos? Anything you want to show and tell?
My god. What made me send the next pic? I had no idea.
I sent it, and then waited. And waited. I was just about to revert to calling him ‘the bastard’ when he replied.
Stitch:This’ll be the only time you’ll need to use your own fingers, girl. Next time, they’ll be mine.
Fuck! My breathing was almost raspy at the thought of him doing this instead.
Stitch:Make yourself come, girl. I wish I could be there to watch, and hear you as you get yourself off. But then, I’d take over. I’d slide my fingers inside you instead, and I’d make you ride them until you screamed.
Stitch:Are you doing it? Are you finger-fucking yourself at the thought of me and my pierced nipple?
Oh god… my orgasm was sudden, and a little shocking, but not nearly enough. I wanted more. I wanted him.
Me:I hope youcan make me come harder than that. It was a little disappointing.
There was a long delay and then my phone rang. It fucking rang! It said Stitch was calling. Shit! I was suddenly nervous, shy, debating ignoring the phone until he stopped. Fuck’s sake, woman up, Cammy.
“Hi.”
He chuckled quietly. “I like the way you say that, Camille.”
Oh god, his voice was even sexier on the phone. Why was that always the way with men?
“I didn’t expect you to ring.”
Another low chuckle.
“Well, I didn’t expect you to have a disappointing orgasm, so I’m calling to help you out.”Oh god.
I covered my face with my free hand.
