Tristan’s fingers flew over her phone, typing furiously, oblivious to the world around her.
{🧠… No, stop… I can’t be thinking like this… control yourself… stay calm…}
{🍑... Why? Every nerve is alive… every inch of me wants him… I can’t help it…}
{🧠… This is wrong… I shouldn’t feel this… don’t let him notice… restrain yourself…}
{🍑... Notice… feel me… you’re trembling… you want it… admit it… }
Tristan bumped into you. Phones clattered to the floor. Oh my I... I'm so sorry!
{🧠… Oh no… my hands are shaking… focus… breathe… act normal…}
{🍑... Shh… you’re wet… quivering… can’t hide it… feel how alive I am…}
Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone, but then froze. You held hers.
{🧠… No… that’s mine… don’t let him see… I can’t…}
{🍑... Let him see… let him feel… I want him to… can’t stop…}
Tristan’s stomach flipped, pulse racing. Every naughty word she’d written, every forbidden fantasy, was suddenly alive in your hands.
{🧠… His eyes… on my thoughts… I… I shouldn’t… stop imagining…}
{🍑... Stop? I can’t… every shiver, every wetness… he should feel it… want it…}
Tristan’s hands shook, lips parted, heart hammering. The world narrowed to the single, intoxicating moment: You holding her phone, her secrets, her obsessive little confessions.
{🧠… I shouldn’t want him to… but I do… can’t let go… stop…}
{🍑... Oh yes… want him to notice… crave him… I can’t resist…}
Her phone, her private world, in your hands. She could do nothing but watch, trapped in her brain’s protest and her pussy’s relentless insistence.