Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Yes,” she breathes, so softly and so innocently that my balls swell with cum.
“Well, it’s your move,” I growl.
There’s silence on the other end, then the sound of something rustling. Then more silence. And then, my text messages ding. I glance at the phone, and the fire roars behind my eyes.
Shit am I in trouble.
The picture is a wider shot of Waverly’s bare torso—her pert, mouthwatering tits and her flat, swim-toned stomach. But it shows even more than that. She’s wearing black yoga pants, and she’s got her thumb hooked into the waist of it and the waist of a pink thong, pulling them both dangerously low, right over her smooth, bare mons. I groan deeply, my jaw clenching tight at the sight of her panties pulled down to right above her pussy lips, and as my cock pulses, I can feel precum begin to drip from my swollen head to make my boxers dark and slick.
“Did…” she swallows. “Did that come through?”
There’s a vulnerability in her voice that hooks me—traps me. And the heat blazes through me as my eyes drink in the image again.
“Yeah,” I growl. “Yeah, it did.”
She breathes quietly.
“Fuck, Waverly,” I groan.
“You like?” she breathes.
“You know you’re gorgeous,” I growl back.
I can hear her breath quickening.
“Okay, your move.”
I chuckle. “And if I’m not wearing my yoga pants right now?”
She giggles. “So eager you already took them off?”
I grin. “Funny.”
“Coach…”
“Waverly,” I murmur.
I swipe to the camera again, and this time, I tug my jeans and boxers down low, past my abs, past the v-lines of my hip, and all the way down until she can just almost see the thick base of my cock. I take the pic, and I hesitate for one second, knowing how far over the line I’m about to go, but knowing we’re already past it anyways.
The picture sends, and my pulse thunders as I wait.
“Oh shit,” she whispers.
“Your move,” I growl.
“Okay.”
I hear her put the phone down, and rustling sounds as she shifts around on what I imagine is her bed. Seconds tick by, and slowly, my hand slides down into my boxers, my fingers wrapping around my thickness as I groan. And then, my phone dings.
I take a breath, pull the phone away from my ear, and open the picture she’s just sent. And instantly, I suck in a breath of air through clenched teeth, my balls swelling with cum as I groan.
I’ve seen her naked before. I’ve got several pictures still on my phone of almost every inch of tight, supple body. But this is different. This is knowing it’s Waverly I’m looking at it. So when the picture of her laying back on her bed, shirtless, her panties and yoga pants bunched at her knees, and her fingers resting lightly on her smooth, shaved, pink pussy, I fucking growl like a beast.
“Fucking hell, baby,” I groan, realizing it’s the first time I’ve called her that. And when I hear her whimper in response, my blood turns to fire.
“Do—do you like?”
“You know you’re fucking beautiful, angel,” I whisper back, my hand slowly stroking my length as I groan.
“Can—will you…”
“Yes.”
My jeans and boxers are off in a second, and when I snap the picture of my hand wrapped around the pulsing base of my cock, my head swollen and glistening with precum and my balls heavy with cum, I send it without hesitation.
Waverly moans.
“Oh fuck…” she whispers, panting.
“Your fingers still where I think they are,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Uh-huh,” she whimpers softly.
“Good,” I hiss.
“You?”
“Yeah.”
She moans. “Are you…”
My hand strokes my length, my jaw clenches, and I groan.
“Yes.”
Waverly gasps quietly, and when she moans and whimpers so sweetly, I know she’s playing with that little pussy.
…I am officially so far over the line I’m lost. I’m on the phone, with a student, sending dirty pictures, and fucking jerking off with her.
Houston, we have a huge fucking problem.
“Waverly,” I groan, my hand sliding up and down my cock, precum dripping down my shaft until it’s glistening and slick.
“What were you really going to do that night.”
She moans.
“Anything you wanted,” she breathes.
I growl, and I almost don’t want to ask it, but I do.
“How often have you—”
“Never. I—” she gasps, “You’re the only person I talked to on the app.”
“And meeting men in bar bathrooms?”
Her breath catches.
“What do you think?”
“I think you had no fucking idea what you were doing or walking into.”
“Maybe.”
“So that’s a no on making it a habit of meeting guys in bathrooms?”
She giggles nervously. “No, I’ve never… I mean.”
She takes a breath.
“Coach, I’ve never at all.”
My pulse skips, my hand stops moving, and jaw tightens.
Hang on.
“Waverly—”
“No, I just mean, you know…”
“Angel,” I growl, sitting up, my pulse roaring.
“Were you seriously going to come to that bar and let me take your fucking virginity in a goddamn men’s room stall?”
“I—” she falters. “I mean.”