It was the bang of the front door closing that woke Sue up, followed a few seconds later by the buzzing of her phone as it vibrated on the bedside table. She reached out lazily and concentrated to focus her blurry eyes so she could read the text, from her mum, which explained she was planning to be out for the day with Jim, Sue's dad, and that they would be back after seven that evening.
Sue was glad she would have a little time to herself. It was rather disconcerting being back in her parent's house after all these years; back in her old bedroom, which had been left largely as it was when she moved out. It was two days before her wedding and tradition dictated she shouldn't see Dave again until the church.
It was uncomfortably hot; it was always hot in her parent's house. The heating seemed to be on constantly, even though her dad was notoriously careful with money. She had discarded the bed-sheets during the night and slept naked, but the room felt like a sauna nonetheless. She narrowly persuaded herself it was worth the brief effort of standing up and opening the bedroom door to let some air in. She propped it wide open with a shoe and then fell back into bed. Lying on her front, propped up on her elbows and forearms she looked at her phone again, checking the messages from last night. She half expected, or more accurately half-hoped, that the text conversation she remembered was just a dream. It was not. She checked her call log and the ten minutes she had spent FaceTiming the same number confirmed that memory was also real. She swiped back to the texts again, this time paying attention to the photos she had apparently sent.
She winced at the thumbnail of a video. Her thumb hovered over the play button for a second as she concluded that not knowing was worse. Having pressed play, she watched herself kneeling on the bed leaning towards her phone's camera, her long, freshly straightened brown hair partly obscuring her face and falling down over her perfectly proportioned breasts, stopping just short of her nipples. The stingy light from the bedside lamp kept the room behind her dark, but she was in perfect focus. She had taken the time to lean the phone against her pillows so she had both hands free. For the twelve seconds of the video she was gently caressing her breasts with one hand, the other firmly between her legs, holding steady the violently pink vibrator that she was riding. Sue shook her head and sighed. She watched the video again with the volume turned up and heard clearly the humming of the vibrator and her own voice moaning his name.
She dropped the phone on the bed next to her and screwed her eyes closed, reassuring herself that her parents almost certainly wouldn't have heard anything. It was kind of hilarious that she was about to get married but was back home worrying about whether they were going to hear her in bed.
John was the only "real" boyfriend she had before Dave. He was the first guy she had sex with. In fact, she had only ever slept with two other guys, both in the short time between breaking up with John and starting to date Dave. In fact, she had met both of them on the same "girl's holiday" to Ibiza. In fact, she had slept with both of them on the same night; at the same time; several times. It had been quite a way to get over John and it had been a little bit of revenge because she had never agreed to his suggestions of a threesome. She had felt a little bit guilty though and told
Dave about it when she came home. He had rather liked the story; so much in fact that he had often asked her to tell him again. What she had never told him, for some reason, was that one of the guys had videoed the whole encounter. He had emailed her a few days after she was home to ask, very appropriately, whether she minded if he posted the video online with her face blurred out. Something about the idea of it had turned her on so much that she said yes. Her one condition was that the guy also anonymously sent it to John, which he duly did. A few days after that John sent her a message with no text, just a photo of a big wall-mounted TV and all the guys from his football team posing around it pointing to the screen. The image on the TV was a freeze-frame of her getting spit-roasted. Predictable really. As were the texts she got from most of his football team in the following days.
The guy did post the video, but didn't keep his promise to blur her face. It had been live for a couple of weeks before he sent her a link and had been seen by almost fifty thousand people. She watched it from between her fingers, accepting that anyone who knew her and watched it would easily recognise her. The more interesting admission she made in her own head, was that she was very turned on at the idea that she might be recognised. For some reason she particularly liked the idea of her work colleagues and her friend's husbands stumbling across the video and saving it in their "favourites" list so they could watch it over and over again. The video had vanished a few years ago, taken down when Pornhub purged amateur footage that they couldn't prove had been posted with consent. The last time she had looked, it was at more than three-hundred thousand views. She was sure that Dave would have been turned on knowing there had been a video of her online, but it also excited her that he didn't know. Rea, her best friend knew, and had actually been on that holiday. One night Rea had logged into Pornhub and showed their mutual friend, Paulette, who then apparently promptly showed it to Paul, her husband. Some time later, in a very drunk text, Paul told her that Paulette had caught him watching the video and stroking himself.
She dropped her face into the pillow for a few moments, reflecting on the fact that John had probably already sent the video from last night, and all the accompanying photos, to every guy in his contact list. She tried to process the cognitive dissonance that came with both dreading the idea, and simultaneously loving the thought.
It was slightly cooler in her bedroom now thanks to the draft from the open door. With the index finger of her right hand Sue traced an imaginary line down from her throat, between her breasts, across her stomach and almost, so very, very close, to her freshly shaven, perfectly smooth pussy. She had never been completely shaven until two years ago. The night that Rea had suddenly kissed her and they had found themselves in bed with Rea complaining about getting stubble-burn and insisting on taking Sue to the shower and shaving her right there and then.
She had realised after a year of dating John that there was no real future with him. He wasn't destined for anything. He had no plan, no career, no aspirations. No real concept of responsibility. He had once tried to argue with her dad, quite seriously, that he could probably make a living through sports betting. During a weekend trip to Amsterdam he had asked a pimp how much money he could make if Sue worked in the red light district there. John's friends hadn't taken their girlfriends on that trip, so they had free reign to what they liked, but John didn't ask permission to have his fun anyway. One night in their hotel, many, many beers into the evening, the guys had sat around and ranked their girlfriends, based on videos and photos that they passed around and sent to each other. Sue had just sat there picking the label on her bottle of beer, fiddling with her phone, listening as they eventually agreed that Simon's new blonde, barely 18 year-old girlfriend was the best looking, but that Sue was "best fuck". Only John had any relevant experience, but that night he had invited his friends to watch him fuck her from behind so they could draw their own conclusions in person.
Even for all that she might have stayed with him if he hadn't been a serial cheater. She confronted him on multiple occasions but he never apologised or even promised not to do it again. He had that bad boy swagger that all the good girls liked; and all the bad girls for that matter. He always seemed to get the girl he wanted and he placed no great value in keeping them. He was good looking in a rough kind of a way, not especially well built but with muscles you could feel through a shirt and a confidence that just couldn't be shaken. In bed he was rough and demanding but she had encouraged that: maybe to please him at first, but later on because she enjoyed it. He knew he was good in bed, or at least he knew that he was big and to him that was the same thing. Before they ever slept together Sue had heard the legend about him being too big for any girl to take completely; a legend he had obviously started himself. It wasn't quite true. She had measured him one night at very nearly 9 inches, which wasn't unmanageable. The other reason it wasn't exactly true to say no one could take him completely, was because he didn't really provide any choice in the matter.
She slid her index finger into her pussy, just enough to make sure the tip of her finger was wet when she started to moved it against her clit, very slowly.
With her left hand she lifted her phone again, She had messaged him first and she had led the agenda, telling him that she still thought about the first time they had sex, and the last time. More problematically she told him she often thought about the next time. It hadn't been very subtle.
She pushed two fingers inside herself, this time much deeper, and as she fucked herself she curled her fingers so they ran over her g-spot. Her knees were far apart now, heels drawn up towards her ass.
At this point in the conversation she had sent him a picture of her naked body, from her naval up, taken with her hands stretched out in front of her. From then on there was no turning back. She read their texts as she fingered herself:
Sue: "Remember this view?"
John: "You look good. I remember cumming on those tits. And that face."
Sue: "And in my hair. On purpose."
John: "You were the blowjob queen."
Sue: "Still am! Remember when I lost my voice because you bruised my throat?"
John: "Deep throat like a porn-star"
Sue: "You didn't give me a choice!
John: "You loved it. I bet you make yourself cum thinking about me."
Sue: "Yeah."
John: "When was the last time?"
Sue: "About half an hour ago!!"
John: "Haha, is right. I bet you think about me when he fucks you."
Sue: "Maybe...sometimes...a lot..."
John: "Does he make you cum as hard as me?"
Sue: "No. I've told him."
John: "Told him what?"
Sue: "That I came harder with you. How big you are. How goof you felt."
Sue: "*good not goof!"
John: "Tell him you want to fuck me again."
Sue: "I have. Lots of times."
John: "Tell me."
Sue: "I want you to fuck me. I'm almost married so..."
