I got the first snap at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday. Her username popped up with that stupid cartoon ghost, and I opened it without thinking. There she was, phone angled down between her spread legs, two fingers shoved knuckle-deep in her shaved cunt. The flash lit up the wet shine on her skin. Text on the screen said "thinking about your dick again." No face, just pussy and that message. My cock twitched hard in my boxers before I even finished the snap.
I snapped back fast. Pulled my shorts down, stroked once, took the pic of my thick shaft standing up. Caption: "Come get it." Sent. She replied thirty seconds later with a short video, her fingers pumping in and out, the wet sounds clear even on mute. "Door's unlocked. Ten minutes."
She showed up in a hoodie and nothing else. I grabbed her the second the door shut, spun her around, and bent her over the kitchen table. No hello, no small talk. I yanked the hoodie up, lined my cock up with her already dripping hole, and shoved in balls-deep in one thrust. She grunted and pushed back, taking every inch like she was starving for it. I fucked her hard and fast, the table legs scraping on the floor with every slam. Her tits bounced against the wood. I reached under, pinched a nipple, and she came quick, cunt clamping down and soaking my balls. I kept pounding until I pulled out and painted her ass cheeks with thick ropes of cum. She stood up, pulled the hoodie down over the mess, and left without a word. The whole thing took eight minutes.
The snaps kept coming after that. Every day, sometimes twice. One showed her in the office bathroom, skirt hiked, ass cheeks spread, two fingers in her asshole. "Need you stretching this." Another was a close-up of her sucking two fingers, spit dripping, eyes looking straight at the camera. "Want this on your cock." I answered every time with a dick pic or a short clip of me jerking. We met in parking garages, her car, my apartment, once in the stairwell of her building. Always quick, always dirty, always no strings.
One night she sent a snap from her work desk after hours. She was on her knees under it, shirt open, tits out, mouth open like she was waiting for a load. "Boss left. Come use my throat." I drove over, found the door open, and walked in to see her already on the floor. She didn't say anything, just crawled over, yanked my zipper down, and swallowed me to the root. Her throat squeezed tight while she bobbed fast, gagging and drooling down my balls. I grabbed her hair and fucked her face until tears ran and spit covered her chin. When I came she swallowed every drop, then stood, wiped her mouth, and said "See you tomorrow." I left.
We got bolder. A snap came through while I was at the gym: her bent over the hood of her car in a dark lot, ass up, pussy spread with both hands. "Now." I met her there, bent her over the same hood, and fucked her from behind while cars drove past on the road twenty feet away. She came twice, loud, before I unloaded inside her. Cum leaked down her thighs when she stood. She snapped a picture of it and sent it to me before driving off.
The stories piled up like that for weeks. Quick fucks in bathrooms, alleys, her kitchen while her roommate slept. Each one started with a snap and ended with one of us walking away sticky. No dates, no talking after, just raw need and the next photo. She liked it rough and fast. I liked how wet she always was by the time I got there. The snaps got filthier: her pissing in the shower with "wish this was your cock," her riding a dildo with "practice for you," close-ups of her gaping after I left.
Last snap came on a Friday. Video this time. She was in a hotel room, naked on all fours, looking back at the camera while she spread her ass. "Room 412. Don't knock." I drove straight there, let myself in with the key she left at the desk, and found her exactly like the snap. I dropped my pants, spat on her asshole, and pushed my cock in slow until my hips met her cheeks. She moaned and shoved back. I fucked her ass hard, slapping her cheeks red, reaching under to rub her clit until she squirted on the sheets. I came deep inside her, pulled out, and watched it drip. She turned, sucked me clean, then rolled over and passed out. I left without waking her.
The snaps stopped after that. Maybe she got bored. Maybe I did. But every time my phone buzzes now I still check, half-hoping for that ghost icon and another raw, filthy command.
