Missing Him

"I can't wait to see you," his text read. We were in bed; she was texting with him, I was just reading.

"I know, Evan," she responded. "You know I feel the same. Are you frustrated?"

"Yes, but not as much as someone else," he said.

"You're bad," Emily typed, looked over at me. "You have the power to change that."

"Not a chance, Emily, not a chance. Show me later. How much you miss me."

"Show you how?"

"Be creative," he said.

She was. Totally.

Half an hour later, she was face down on the bed wearing a garter belt and stockings, heels, but no bra and no panties. She slipped her hand between her legs, touched herself. 

"R...ready?" I asked from the foot of the bed.

"Ready," she said, smiling at me, then turning her face away from me. 

I swallowed, hit record on her phone. "Okay," I said.

She rubbed her pussy, slowly, clearly wet, clearly horny. "Just a little something," she said, "to show my boyfriend how much I miss him and how much I'm looking forward to feeling him inside me."

I got about thirty seconds of that, making sure her face wasn't in the frame (just to be safe). "G...got it," I stammered as she continued to masturbate, "should I...um..."

"Get his cock, help me get him hard and wet, and guide him into me?" she said. "Oh, Sara, you'd better."

It took awhile to send the short clip to him.

I mean, "he" was already hard, but we spent a few minutes getting "him" wet, kissing the dildo together, licking it together, sucking it together, fucking her with it, and sensually licking him clean after.

"Frustrated?" she asked after.

"Yes," I said, but smiled. "And happy. So happy."

"Hmmmm, me too, love, me too."