Page 33 of Untangled
His curse makes me laugh. The giggle tickles up my throat and buoys my confidence so much that I pull the sweater off entirely. Once I’ve slipped out of my bra straps and let thecups pool around my waist, I look at the camera once more. Maybe these tits aren’t as tired as I thought? I throw an arm across myself, taking care to lean forward and scoop them together so they sit nice and high. I angle my forearm down so just a hint of my nipples are showing. For deniability’s sake, I pretend they could be shadows. With only five attempts this time, I capture the shot and send it to Daniel.
The fluttering ellipses on the screen stop and start, then stop again. My stomach sinks. What was I thinking? The man isat work. I’m not even a year postpartum. Maybe he didn’t want to see all of that.
Oh, he did.
Hereallydid, because his next message says,
I’d give anything to lick up your chest right now. How am I supposed to work on this fucking spreadsheet when you’re topless and taunting me with your perfect fucking tits?
With no more desire to be coy, and bolstered by the unfettered desire in his words, I reply,
How about you put your cock between my tits instead of your tongue?
Never once, in our years of marriage or dating before that, have we tried titty fucking. But after the last few days ofexploring, it sounds fun enough. Plus, I can picture him reading the text at his desk, thrown back in his chair, with one hand rearranging himself in his pants and the other tugging on his hair. He’s going to be jumping out of his skin with three more hours to go in the office.
Would you spit on it for me?
Yep. And I’d lean down and lick the tip. You’d hit my tongue every time you pushed up. You wouldn’t last long.
You wouldn’t either. How wet are you right now? Tell me.
No wait. Show me.
I’m not about to take a photo of my pussy—a girl has a right to boundaries—but it doesn’t stop me from sliding two fingers beneath my panties and dipping them inside the growing pool at my entrance.Shit.
Withdrawing them, I place the sticky digits on either side of my nipple and use my left hand to snap a photo. It captures the glistening liquid stringing between my fingers just how I wanted. His reply comes as fast as I send it.
FUCK, Molly. Fuck me. Are you trying to kill me?
No, but I AM trying to fuck you later.
Can you take one more for me? I’ve got a meeting in five and I need four to deal with this raging semi but I need one more. Lick your fingers for me, baby.
I don’t need my years of people pleasing to convince me of his request. My tongue slides flat from my mouth, and I place my index and middle finger to weigh on it. With my camera switched to boomerang (I’m a millennial after all), I hit record and close my lips to suck. When I’ve licked them clean, I take one more photo of me licking the tip of my finger.
Should I be concerned about hackers finding these some day? Or them ending up on the dark web? It’s too late for that; I hit send.
Imagining Daniel writhing, unable to calm himself and trying to will his body to retreat, has me feeling smug. Powerful. Sexy as hell, even with a messy bun and pair of leggings clinging to my body.
DO NOT text me again, Molls. I'm serious, I can’t take it. Don’t respond to this next one until you can do so in person.
I nod, waiting for whatever last word he wants to get in.
After thirty seconds, the wall of text appears:
When I get home, we’re going to get Violet to bed. And then you’re MINE, baby. I’m going to lap at your pussy until there’s nothing wet left because I've swallowed it all. I’ll make sure you’re flooded again before I fuck you, and you will be, because you can’t help but gush when I pull your nipples into my mouth and tug. You’re going to be begging for my cock, Molls.
And after this, today? Making me hard in my office?
I’m going to make it hard for you. Maybe I won’t let you come. Maybe I won’t let you STOP coming.
When I get home, you better be ready to play.
Day 21
Praise your partner for their effort over the last three weeks.
“Iknow the prompt says to praise each other, but can we praise the creators of this deck? Should we send them a thank you gift or something?” The vibration of Daniel’s chuckle travels all the way to my toes which are inched under his thighs.
