Sweet Thing



We zinged from the moment we matched, our words tumbling onto the screen in wide-eyed wonder and soon the shared selfies became nudes, sweet, delicious, lustful nudes.

And I couldn’t quite believe it. She was too good to be true, too hot to be interested in ME but the bizarrest thing was, she was saying exactly the same thing about ME…and it was a joyful coalescence of ‘no you, no you, no US’ until we were both lifting each other up so much we forgot to put ourselves down – perfect.

Each day we drove each other even more wild, from the idea of licking cream off her, inspired by our post-lockdown plan to enjoy sundaes together (we even have the same favourite ice cream flavours) to her calling me the Kink Bear – handcuffs and cross paddles on my tum.

She told me I was the kind of person she watches on the internet, so I became that person for her. Sending porn like photos and videos, letting her see all of me as she let me see all of her.

Her legs in stockings, my God! And her butt, her sweet, juicy butt. Damn.

We were so hot for each other, desperate to fuck and be fucked. Sexting was (and still is in a large part) our main communication. Hot, bothered and driven completely wild by each other.

She told me she tasted like strawberry, making her one of my five a day. Although she wanted to be all my five a day, greedy slut that she is. It was around this point I think my pet name for her started to really take hold. I still use many, but mostly she’s my Sweet Thing.

But this one particular interaction started with collarbones, as it often does with her.  She has the most beautiful profile. Stunningly blue eyes, a cute lil pierced nose and the most plump and juicy lips that beg to be kiss-bruised. Oh and her neck, her sweet neck just beckons to be bitten and her collarbones unf, I want to nibble them so badly.

And she teases me with them, she does.  Wicked, sexy, Sweet Thing.

During a lull in conversation I watched a video she’d sent me of her coming. I watched it on loop, imagining I was there, that she was masturbating over me and after the almost full day of sexting and teasing I came long and toe-curlingly hard.

It was late, the type that’s so late it’s sneaked round to super early. She continued chatting to me, from her newly made bed, my orgasm an inspiration to her. She’s such a good girl. So eager to please.

She loves my feet. And she told me why, in detail, my lil fat toes, the shape of my toenails, the arch of my sole. She continued up my legs to my thighs and to my cunt.

She sent photos of her straining arousal and the typos started slipping through.

She was typing one handed.

I loved each typo, a physical evidence of her desire for me and her losing control. Her words, her pics both evidence of her lust for me, sweeping me away in the magic of such a beauty being so captivated by me.

She sent me several videos of her sweet, hard cock leaking pre-cum for me, being covered in lube and her stroking herself with her delicate fingers and beautifully painted nails.

Showing me what I was aching to taste, such a teasing Sweet Thing.

She taunted me with the idea of fucking in her room, part of her house share house, everyone knowing what we were doing.  Me her MILF and her my young, hot fuck toy.  The image spoke to my exhibitionist slut, wanting our lustful joinings to be heard by strangers.

I sent her a video of my hand on my tit, plucking my nipple then scratching over my hip and further dipping into my cunt. Raising strangled noises from betwixt my lips. I apologised for the wheeze, in the following message and she told me not to worry, said our quirks make us unique and sexy and I melted even more for her.

I sent another clip of me finger fucking myself, she could hear my wetness and I wiped my fingers across my belly to show her just how wet I was.

Her photos and videos became harder and hotter, her body trembling, her breath coming in pants.

My next video was just of my face, as if I were looking up at her from my knees.

“You gonna come for me sweet thing?” I asked with a cheeky, amused smile.

She told me, emphatically that she would. Her reward another cheeky video.

“Such a good girl.” I told her.

And the video back is one I must have watched a hundred times since. Her writhing under the duvet, the focused on her revealed collar bone (damn those insanely tasty morsels!) and her biting her delicious lower lip.

“I love being your good girl.” She whispers and the shot pans down to her clearly busy hand.

Fuck.  Just, Fuck. I was pure boiling, rolling need at that point.

My response video had me fucking myself and ending with the focus on my face as little orgasms exploded through me, my mouth lolling open.

“I want you!”  I gasped.

So close, so needy, I couldn’t hold back anymore so I masturbated to orgasm and videoed it for her.

For my inspiration, the sexiest Sweet Thing.

She was so hard for me. She sent photos and videos and I swear it looked painful, her erection so full and throbbing and drooling for me.

My focus had always been on her, my orgasms fuelled by her but at this point I put all my intent into my words, into a teasing verbal blow job. Because I wanted her to come for me. I wanted her to have the pleasure I’d had.

And she came! An orgasm without ejaculation, I was so thrilled, asked her how it felt, she told me it felt special and I might have just turned to goo at that moment. I mean, I was pretty gooey already to be honest, I didn’t have much further to go.

She continued, she still wanted to come for me, a tribute for me, to me.

Oh and when she came she came so hard, so much, shooting so high. Moaning and panting, her legs bent together, feet scrabbling at the bed.

A vision of lust, so beautiful and wanton, Ohhhhhhhhhh Sweet Thing.

We exchanged a few more soft, sensual words but it was 3am and we both needed sleep. We had fucked each other to the point of exhaustion without a single touch.

Our messages continue in a similar vein but with deeper knowledge of each other, an open honesty that makes my heart sing.

I really, really can’t wait for a creamy date with my Sweet Thing.



Victoria Blisse

Victoria Blisse is known as the Queen of Smut, Reverend to the kinky and is the Writer in Residence at Cocktails and Fuck Tales. She’s also an angel. Ask anyone. Mancunian Odd Duck, her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

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