Text Heather

E: You up?

A moment passes.

H: Yeah. What up?

E: What you doing?

H: Laying down. What’s up? Is everything okay?

E: I’m good, just kinda bored and lonely.

Ethan almost puts ‘horny’ instead of ‘lonely’, but decides to be a little more coy.

H: Same actually.

H: You in bed?

E: Yea, just laying here.

A pause. No dots.

H: Thinking about me?

E: Maybe.

H: You obviously are.

H: You wouldnt have texted otherwise.

E: Okay I am.

H: Anything in particular about me?

Smirking slightly, Ethan takes a moment to consider how to answer.

E: The view.

H: Ah, just the view? Well I can help with that.

A picture of a familiar bed, covers pulled back slightly, and an even more familiar body come through. Propped up on her elbow the selfie is awkwardly taken, most of her face out of frame, red hair falling down past her visible jaw. The main focus of the picture is her exposed chest, Heather’s breasts as impressive as ever. {if Peeped =true} While she doesn't compare to Layla, it’s hardly a demerit. Few could really match her.{endif}

Ethan feels his semi-hard cock stirring, liking what he’s seeing.

E: Whoa.

H: I’ve been sleeping naked again. Just as good as you remember?

E: Better.

H: Good answer.

A second picture comes through. Angled differently, this one cuts out her face completely, using the extra frame space to include her hips and crotch. While her pussy isn't visible, her legs pressed together, a slightly longer than he remembered red bush is on display. Her tits are also in frame again, her posture changed, letting sitting on her chest in a different way.

E: Holy fuck. View is definitely better.

H: I’d show you more, but I do have to get to bed.

H: Don’t want to pull an all-nighter helping you pull your pork. ;)

H: Night.

E: Night.

Wasting little time, Ethan slides a hand down, taking hold of his aching member. Heather had sent him the odd sexy picture on occasion, but this was different. Exciting. New. Throbbing between his fingers, Ethan lets out a soft sigh, stroking himself as he soaks in Heather’s pictures.

He missed her tits. Those glorious, fat tits. Looking at them now stirs up old memories of sticking his cock between them and cumming on her smiling face. Down below the ache grows, Ethan’s hand pumping faster. Eyes exploring her curves, he focuses on the shape of her hips, visually wandering toward her red bush. She was never fully shaved, always leaving behind something. Usually, she kept it neater, and the only reason Ethan can think it was in its current state if is she hadn't been fucking anybody else. Not since him.

A tightness in Ethan’s crotch triggers a small shivering fit, and soon after the rest of his muscles turning taut. Eyes fluttering, Ethan feels his climax come, and suddenly he’s very aware he doesn't have a plan. Rolling over slightly, he quickly reaches for a tissue on the bedside table, only to try too late, a spurt of cum firing off onto the bed and his hand.

Groaning, Ethan forgets about the tissue, focusing on milking his pulsating cock, more hot jizz painting his sheets. His orgasm is great, considering he was only jerking off to pictures, better than relying strictly on imagination.

After his dick stops spurting, Ethan quickly cleans up, not wanting to walk up partly stuck to the bed. Afterward, he sets his phone down and settles in, sleeping on the far side of the bed just in case he missed some.

He’d wash the sheets tomorrow.

As he dozes off, he reflects a bit on his exchange with Heather. While far from a prude, her boldness was different. Maybe something’s gotten into her.