This is what she gave me yesterday. My cock still is hard today.She engaged, diligently, thoughtfully, with a communication challenge she and I were having.
She sent a demure picture of her face, with a sly smile. In response to which, I asked, “Want to feed me?”
“Yes,” she replied. Almost before I’d finished asking the question.
“What do you want pictures of?” she asked.
“Show me the clothes that arrived today, on you.”
She had ordered some clothes that she was/is prepared to wear once, that I will destroy by tearing them off her. She had chosen a particularly slutty outfit – a tiny tiny skirt with red panties and bra, and a cheerleader-like top, adorned with the “Playboy” brand.
“Coming right up,” she wrote. And moments later, sent a smoking hot picture of her in the panties and bra.
“Jesus,” I wrote.
She followed with another, showing me more of her pretty breasts in that pretty, slutty, red bra.
“You need to sit down,” I wrote. “Open your pretty thighs. And show me what I would see if I were kneeling in front of you.” [<– Note the subjunctive case. It’s very important.]
That came through, just a moment later.
“Mmm. Good girl. May I see your ass please? And, then I need 40 seconds of you teasing your cunt. Please.”
I was in something of a frenzy. I needed far more from Charlotte than she possibly could give me any time soon. She sent her ass.
And she sent me that 40 seconds. Only it was 50. I don’t think she’ll let me share it with you (though I wish to God she would). It doesn’t include anything identifiable, but she’s a bit shy about video.
“How you feeling?” I asked. “I’m in pain. That’s fucking insanely hot.”
Then she sent me a photo of her wearing the full ensemble, from the front. And another, from the rear.
Dammit.
Charlotte struggles to take pictures of her ass that she likes, but she had to be feeling good tonight!
“Time to touch your pretty pussy again for me. One minute.”
One minute and thirty seconds later, one minute and thirteen seconds of Charlotte touching her pretty pussy followed.
“I love this outfit!” Charlotte wrote.
“Is there anything you would like from me? I want you to stand, legs apart, and bend down and touch your toes From behind.”
I clarified that I wanted video. I asked, again, if there was anything she wanted from me.
“After that may I go to bed?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte delivered her penultimate video of the evening. A few minutes later, she told me she wasn’t tired, that she couldn’t sleep.
“Come for me,” I told her. “I want to see your face.”
A minute later, 49 seconds of Charlotte’s pretty, pale face, twisting in ecstasy, arrived. And she was off to bed.