Christa Wick: Sexting Curves

Oh, Major, look what you've done. My pussy is soaked and swollen thinking about you.

Sighing over what would never be, I opened the browser on my phone and navigated to wardick — my favorite tumblr page. I thumbed through the posts with one hand while the other stroked my clit. I glanced at the mirror every few seconds to see how much more cream dripped from me and the lustful blush making the skin on my mound glow a pale rose. Half a dozen posts in, I found the perfect picture. It was a lap shot, the camera looking down as the subject sat with his pants pushed low. The image was hi-res, showing me a strong, tanned hand gripping a deliciously huge cock, its tip slick from a recent explosion of cum.

I licked my lips, wondering what the major's skin and cum taste like.

Looking back and forth between the mirror and the picture, my breathing picked up. My fingers skipped a little faster along my pussy as I imagined my other hand holding the major's dick instead of my phone.

On the last glance back at the phone, a text message interrupted the image on the screen.

What r u doing?

I growled. It was Emy, another big girl and my absolute best friend except for when she texts me half a second before I'm ready to come and kills any chance of a climax.

I texted her back.

On wardick wishing it was Major's cock and he was fucking me with it.

Emy really loves to goad me. Her next message was no exception.

Pussy or ass?

Spreading my hairless labia, I snapped a picture of my drenched pussy and typed a reply.

He has an open invitation to fuck me ANY place, ANY time.

Hitting send, my contacts list came up just as Stevie knocked on the door.

"You going to read to me?"

"Just a second, little man." Hearing Stevie start to bounce along the hall I confirmed the send command. I quickly pulled my skirt down and opened the door to chase after him, his gleeful cackles echoing down the hall as he eluded me.

I had Stevie in bed by ten. Half an hour later, I was relatively confident he wasn't going to get back up for one last sip of water or to take a pee because of the last "last sip" I already let him have.

Settling back against the couch, I pulled my skirt up and dragged a throw blanket over my legs to hide what I was doing. Keeping one eye on the hallway, I grabbed my phone and turned it on. Emy hadn't responded to my last message, which was odd. Usually, she tries to one up me until we are sending each other pictures of something inside one hole or another — Emy with her pink dildo or me with my blue one.

Our parents would be mortified, I'm sure, but it's better than the alternatives. We both lost our virginity to a (different) jerk who was only looking for a fast fuck and thought we should be grateful that anyone wanted to have sex with us. There are lots of guys around like that — but we have opted for a different kind of sexual intimacy while we nurse our secret crushes.

With no new message from Emy, I returned to wardick and the picture that had so captivated me in the laundry room. It was truly a beautiful cock. The shaft was heavily veined. The head was a shade darker than the body and had a well-defined bottom flare. Imagining it tugging at my pussy on the backstroke, I slid my free hand inside my panties and bit down on a moan.

Just finding a truly satisfying rhythm, I heard keys in the front door one hour too soon. Taking a hard swallow, I dropped the phone, jumped up and pushed my skirt back down half a second before the major rounded the corner and entered the front room.

"Major Logan, you're back early." I tried to smile and bring my breathing under control, but I'm sure I looked guilty as hell. I could feel my cheeks blazing with shame.

His gaze scanned the room, his expression stern. "Where is it, Lillian?"

"Where's what?" My question slowed at the end as I realized he had just called me by my full first name. Only my mom does that anymore and only when she is seriously pissed.

I looked at his face again.

His lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw seemed to be sliding from side to side even as he growled an answer. "Your phone. Where is it?"

I've only seen the major angry a few times — the few weeks right before and after Mrs. Logan deserted him and Stevie. Looking at Logan just a few feet away, his muscles bunching and steam practically rising off his hard body, I knew I was in trouble.

I just didn't know why.

Before I could even think to say anything else, he spotted my phone and scooped it up from the couch. "I told you no visitors. You know that's an absolute rule. You want to fool around with a boy, do it someplace else."

He pressed the power button as I lunged for the device. Gently straight arming me, he held me at a distance as he opened my messages.

"Those are private!"

"I just want to know who has an open invitation to my home while you're supposed to be watching Stevie."

I felt like I'd taken a baseball bat to my face when it dawned on me what must have happened. He was talking about the message on the image I thought I had sent to Emy. She didn't reply because she never received it. The major had!

I sucked a deep breath in, panic cementing in my chest to hold the air inside me. I wasn't even going to attempt an explanation that no boy had an invitation to his house. With my phone in his hands, he'd realize the truth all too soon. Stepping into my sandals, I scanned the room for my bag. It was on the small side table coming off the hall. I made a bee line for it, my cheeks surely blazing bright red.

Reaching for the bag, I noticed my keys weren't hooked to the outside like usual. I looked at the table top, scanned the row of small hooks above the surface.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My heart knocked hard inside my chest. My lungs kicked out the breath I'd been holding, dragged another one in then seized once more. I spun around, my gaze casting wildly about in search of my keys. I didn't see them, but I noticed the major had stopped looking at my phone and was staring intently at me.

That darkly-fringed fuck-me gaze he has was on at full power, his head cocked like some powerful beast that has just scented its prey. I backed up until my butt bumped against the wall.

A million thoughts ran through my head. The enormously pissed look was gone, but I couldn't read what had replaced it.

Amusement?

Pity for the fat babysitter who has a crush on a demigod?

He advanced on me with slow, deliberate steps. Held like bait, my keys were in his hand. In the other hand, he still had my phone. The display faced me. He had flipped through the messages, finding another explicit shot of my pussy. It was the one I had taken in my bedroom, my legs spread wide, my blue battery-operated boyfriend on the quilt next to me. I had snapped the picture post-orgasm just as a mix of cream and lube left my pulsing cunt.

"Didn't your parents warn you about taking pictures like this?" His voice had lost its usual good-natured efficiency. The words slid roughly from his mouth. He blinked and then his gaze raked my body.

My overstuffed body that he couldn't possibly want.

He drew his bottom lip in, wetting it. "What if Emy decided to post them online?"

I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide how hard my nipples had become. "She wouldn't and it doesn't show my face, anyway."

I couldn't believe I was arguing with him about this. I needed my keys and my phone so I could go the hell home and die of embarrassment in the privacy of my bedroom — right after a marathon session with my dildo because the idea of him seeing the pictures and knowing that I wanted his cock in me made my pussy extra wet.

"It shows your mole, Lily, the one that's visible when you wear that pink bikini."

My pink bikini — the one my sister said a girl my size should be embarrassed to even look at and that Logan had seen once and only for about forty seconds as I fumbled for my swim robe.