#howlingatthemoon

your tdick aches so much, it only really takes her selfies to get you off, right? it feels too good, too needy, too sensitive. you can't focus.

didn't she just post a pic on twitter? perfect timing for you. almost like she knows what you want to do to her. almost like she knows what she does to you.

curled on your bed, you scroll her posts, memes, fandom discourse, pictures of her cats, breathing heavily. hand already pressed against your boxers, feeling how wet and hot your dick is. and then you find it.

hand pumping, squeezing, tugging at your dick through your soaking underwear, you stare at each and every pixel. its a fairly neutral photo, her in a location you recognize in an outfit you remember. nothing sensuous, no scandalous caption, nothing particularly erotic.

yet you keep stroking.

brains work in funny ways. if you provide it with an untrained stimulus that elicits a response and a neutral stimulus at the same time and often enough, eventually the neutral stimulus conjours the same response.

theres nothing in these images that are sexual. that is until your brain makes it one. you scour the selfie for the fullness of her lips, the hint of her tits in her hoodie, the slight curve of the bridge of her nose. all of it making your legs twitch. your cock ache. all of it more erotic than porn. no, no this was porn. she is porn for you.

you don't know exactly what did it. maybe her armpits, probably. but at some point, your hips give out, and you drop your phone to cover your mouth. gods, shes beautiful. all of her is beautiful. and you want her more than life itself. your dick convulses under your fingers and you wish it was her mouth. the slickness on your hands needed to be dripping off her face. you want her more than you want to breathe.