Page 7 of Sexted By a Stranger
The texter had been checking on me these past few days, and strangely, I found myself actually wanting to share with him. This stranger, this man I'd never met, had become my only confidant.
[How was today?] His most frequent question.
Before, I'd always say fine. But today, for some reason, I suddenly wanted to tell him the truth.
[Exhausted,] I answered honestly.
[Tell me.]
[That fat guy who stared at me when I danced? Turns out he's the club owner. I want to quit so badly, but I can't. I need this job.]
[Did he hurt you?] The reply came fast, and I could actually feel the dangerous chill in his tone.
[Not yet.]
[If he dares come near you, tell me.]
[What would u do?] I asked, a strange sense of safety washing over me.
[I'd make him regret ever looking at you.]
Those words made me shiver—not from fear, but from some indescribable thrill. Someone willing to stand up for me. Someone willing to protect me. The feeling was so foreign.
[Why do u even care?]
[Because you deserve to be cared for. You're stronger than you think, stellina.]
Tears blurred my vision. For the first time, someone saw through my fragility.
He didn't wait for me to reply and sent another message. [Imagine me there with you. Could that make you forget your troubles?]
His words burned like liquor, sending waves of heat through my core. I typed back: [How would u make me forget?]
[Imagine yourself in my arms, skin against mine, belonging only to me.] His reply was bold and direct.
My heart slammed against my ribs—he'd never been this explicit before. My face burned like it might catch fire as I read on.
And another one came. [Your nightgown slipping off your shoulder, me kissing your collarbone, slowly.]
I held my breath. His words were fire, awakening desires I'd never known. I typed: [What else?]
[I want to see you,] he replied quickly. [Send me a photo, let me see my stellina.]
I froze, my heart threatening to explode. A photo? Too risky. But his words held some kind of magic that made refusal impossible. I opened the camera, hesitated, then took a blurry side profile shot in my oversized nightgown, showing just my collarbone and a strand of chestnut hair.
I hit send.
[Not clear enough,] he responded quickly. [Unbutton it. Smile.]
I bit my lip, thoroughly annoyed. [ur pushing it.]
But my fingers trembled, honestly unbuttoning the top button of my nightgown.
Face burning, I deliberated a moment, then undid two more buttons, tugging the fabric down to reveal the curve of one breast.
After sending it, I immediately regretted it, my heart pounding like a war drum.
[Perfect.] He was clearly pleased. [Now imagine me kissing you, moving down, my fingers sliding behind your ear. Would you tremble?]
