Page 51 of Whisking It All

DiceDiceBaby: How does it feel?

WhiskyBusiness: So good. Wet.

Fumbling with her left hand, she took a few seconds of video of her hand disappearing inside her jeans, the movement beneath the fabric making it clear exactly what she was doing. She ended the recording just as she let out a low moan and hit send.

DiceDiceBaby: Fuck. I want to be inside you.

WhiskyBusiness: You are.

WhiskyBusiness: Are you jerking off?

A short video clip appeared on her phone. She drove two fingers inside herself, bucking against the friction as she continued to work her clit with her thumb, and hit play. His jeans were undone, his hand beneath the fabric of black jersey boxer briefs moving quickly, the unmistakable sound of skin against skin as he stroked the impressive himself. Her pussy clenched around her fingers and she imagined it was him inside her. She played the clip again, wondering if he was circumcised, if the veins along his length were pronounced, if she’d be able to feel them on her tongue when he pushed between her lips.

WhiskyBusiness: I want to ride you. I want you to fuck me until I don’t remember my name.

DiceDiceBaby: The only name you’ll remember is mine.

WhiskyBusiness: We shouldn’t do this here. In my kitchen. We could be caught.

DiceDiceBaby: But you can’t wait for my cock long enough to go somewhere else.

WhiskyBusiness: You’re right. I need you now.

DiceDiceBaby: Are you close?

WhiskyBusiness: So close.

DiceDiceBaby: Fucking get there, princess.

She fucked herself harder, imagining it was him. His fingers on her clit, his cock driving her towards orgasm. And as she imagined him, his hands became Jamie’s hands, the sting of his stubble became Jamie’s stubble. She fell over the edge with the image of Jamie above her, the memory of his hips holding her open beneath him as he fucked her.

WhiskyBusiness: I’m coming.

DiceDiceBaby: Me too

Jamie’s breath on her neck. Jamie’s hand on her breast. Jamie’s cock buried so deep within her she’d still felt him the next morning.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.

As her climax receded, panic replaced lust. Shit. She’d just masturbated with DDB. While thinking about Jamie.

Shame soured in her stomach—for letting their flirtation get that far, for touching herself in her kitchen for God’s sake, thinking of someone else when she was supposed to be thinking about DDB, for fantasizing about her father’s best friend. She scrambled to her feet, buttoning up her jeans and rushing to the sink to wash her hands, as though she could wash away the last few minutes.

DiceDiceBaby: You okay? You’ve been quiet for a few minutes.

Fuck. He’d texted her several times while she’d been too busy freaking out to notice.

WhiskyBusiness: Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?

WhiskyBusiness: Thanks.

WhiskyBusiness: You know, for the orgasm.

WhiskyBusiness: *laughing emoji*

She winced.

WhiskyBusiness: I gotta go.

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