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You’ve been at work all day … and yet despite all the professional trials, your mind has been constantly plagued by tantalising thoughts of pleasure and entwined, naked flesh. You’re consumed with desire for the sorts of gratification that come drenched in sweat and screams. As a result, your body aches with lust, thrums with a low current of dissatisfaction. You crave sensation. Completion.

You slip into your car with more than a little relief. You’ve barely settled yourself when your mobile phone chirps annoyingly on the dashboard. The text message presents a single, simple question.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

Your answer takes even less time to type out: “Pussy.”

“Mine?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Right now, I just want some sweet, wet pussy.”

“I like it when you’re so indiscriminately ravenous.”

You start the engine, spinning the back wheels as you pull out of the car park. It’s dark, and the wipers are just about coping with the rain. The phone chirps again. The traffic ahead on both sides of the road is thin, so you risk a glance at the bright display.

“Pull over and park somewhere discrete.”

Home is so close now that you consider ignoring the message. The ache in your body is maddening though, and the mind behind those words is so damnably tempting. You take the next turning on the left. Half a mile on, you take another left into a single-track lane. You stop the car half on the verge a hundred yards down, flick off the lights and switch off the engine. Over the ticking of cooling metal, you can hear the muted sounds of traffic on the main road. You’re completely alone though.

“Now what?” you type.

“Your pants. Take them off.”

You feel stupid and aroused all at once. You unbutton your’ pants and pull them down.

“It’s done.”

“Recline your seat, and pull your’ boxers down to your’ ankles. If anyone does happen by, I want them to know exactly what you’re doing.”

The thrill that runs down your spine at the words is both hot and cold. You hesitate for a few seconds … and then you comply with the instruction. Alone in the dark, and when it’s done, you’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable … or so alive. That low thrum of need is now a high voltage crackle of potential.

“And now?”

“Think about pussy. Imagine all the pussy you could possibly desire. As many as you want, in whatever ways you want them. Indulge yourself to the hilt. Gorge yourself. Lick and suck and fuck them all, make them wet with desire.”

You do as you’ve been told. As many luscious, wet, pussies as you want. To lick. To feast upon. To fuck. You try to type something in response, but your fingers tremble too much for the tiny buttons. That’s when the phone chirps again.

“I want to know how hard you are. Tell me. I want you to feel for me. I want you to explore for me. I want you to taste for me.”

And at once, you’re engulfed by your own appetites, by the licentious mind behind the messages. You really do mean to take your time, to tease your flesh and gradually build your desire. But you’ve been simmering all day, and as you continue to stroke your’ cock faster, harder, you feel the relief valve within you begin to rock back and forth.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper. Your body bucks as you stroke yoursef, insistent against your palms as you stroke the ridged length.

Your phone rings. It’s all you can do to stab your thumb against the answer button.

“I want to hear you cum,” I tell you. And when you do cum, only a few seconds later, it seems, your cries of pleasure are very loud indeed.