Holly got a text message from a phone number she didn’t know. It was a picture of a guy’s cock, hard, and also a question mark.
She looked at it for a moment, surprised, wondering what to do. She didn’t know him, she thought. At least, the number didn’t come up as one that was already in her phone. He was probably a weirdo, she thought, but he might just have made an awful mistake.
She supposed she should tell him. She’d want to be told, if she’d just somehow sent naked pictures to the wrong person.
She thought for a moment, then texted him back, saying, “Dude, I don’t think I know you.”
There was a long, awkward pause. What Holly assumed was an awkward pause, anyway, at his end. Then her phone beeped. There was another message, “I’m so sorry. I mistyped the number.”
“I’d have really thought this was something you’d want to use your address book for,” Holly sent.
“I was. I thought I was. It’s a new phone, and I copied the number over wrong.”
While Holly was looking at that message, he sent another.
“A new phone,” he said. “Because it’s got a better camera.”
She laughed. She laughed, and actually liked him for that. She sent a smile.
“I really am sorry,” he sent.
“It’s cool,” she said.
There was a moment’s delay, so she thought he’d gone, then another message. “I don’t suppose…” he said. That was all the message was, but she understood him perfectly.
“Not a chance, dude,” she sent. “Not of me. Not like that one.”
“Fair enough,” he sent, then, “Is there anything you would send a picture of?”
Holly was sitting on the couch, in the lounge, in front the TV, and her housemate Charlotte was in the room with her. Holly thought for a moment. She was wearing a skirt, so she took a picture of her knee, very close up. Then she changed her mind, because knees might be weirdly sexy, and took one of her elbow instead.
“What are you doing?” her housemate Charlotte said.
“Sexting. Kind of.”
Charlotte looked at Holly for a moment, at Holly’s elbow. “I don’t think you’re doing it right,” Charlotte said.
Holly grinned, and sent the elbow picture.
“That’s nice,” the guy texted her back.
“So sent me one from you,” she said. “But, um, tamer.”
He sent a picture of his elbow too. He had some bicep showing, and was probably flexing it slightly. He had a tee shirt on, and it hugged his arm. It was tight around his arm, not hanging loose. Holly decided she quite liked that.
She held her phone out to Charlotte, and said, “See?”
Charlotte seemed surprised. She grinned, and then looked back to the TV.
Holly sent a picture of the back of her hand, and got one back. There was no wedding ring on his, she noticed, and he had short nails, which looked clean. That was important. There weren’t any tattoos or scars either, just in case she needed to identify him. Not that she ever would.
She sent a picture of her knee. It was almost arty, with her foot blurry in the background. She was careful not to show much of the room, nothing he could stalk her with. She sent it, and got a picture of a foot back. Bare, the ankle crossed over the other ankle, that one in a sock. Like a weird striptease.
He didn’t have especially hairy legs, she saw. That was a good thing. He didn’t have a sports sock tan-line either, which was a very good thing. For some weird reason, that always put her off. It reminded her of her dad, even on fit athletic guys her own age.
She sat there for a moment, wondering what to take a picture of next. Her ear, perhaps, although she’d probably have to get Charlotte to take it.
Her phone beeped. “Send one back,” he said. “Please.”
Holly looked at it for a moment, grinning. Then sent, “Impatient?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I just hoped….”
She realized. “You want one of my foot?” she sent.
There was something about the way he just asked that made her wonder. It mattered more than just taking silly photos, she thought. “Is that some kind of big deal?” she sent.
“Would you mind if it was?”
Holly thought. Charlotte had noticed she’d stopped texting, and was looking at her. “What?” Charlotte said. “Did he send his cock?”
“He did already. He wants my foot.”
“Oh,” Charlotte said, “That’s kind of weird.”
Charlotte grinned. “But?”
“Yeah, pretty much. The but. I don’t know if I should.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“You’ve already seen me,” he texted to her.
“What’s your name?”
A moment’s pause. “Ethan.”
“Your real name?”
Holly grinned. “What are you going to do if I sent you a photo?” she sent.
“Send one back.”
“What are you going to do with the photo?”
“Be honest, and I might actually do it.”
A pause. “Jerk off,” he sent.
Holly looked at that for a moment, then said, “Show me.”
There was pause, then another photo of his cock arrived. It was hard, and in his hand. Holly was surprised he’d actually done that. She’d made a deal, though. She took a photo of her foot. Then another, from the side, just to be nice.
She sent them both.
“Thank you,” he sent.
“Show me,” she sent. Then, so she was clear. “Show me when you’re done.”
He took a couple of minutes, then sent a picture of his cock with semen on the end. Holly couldn’t quite believe what she was looking at.
Holly sat there, staring at it.
After a moment, Charlotte must have noticed her silence. She looked up from the TV and saw Holly’s face. “What?” she said.
“I’m going to bed,” Holly said, and stood up.
“Dude,” Charlotte said. “Show me.”
Holly shook her head.
“Fucking show me, you perve.”
Holly ran out the room, and into hers, and shut the door.
She couldn’t quite decide what to think. It wasn’t the sight of his cock itself that was interesting her, it was that he was willing to show her at all. And that he liked her foot. She’d never met anyone into feet before. Or at last, anyone quite that honest.
Her phone beeped. “Are you still there?” he sent.
She thought for a moment, then sent, “For now.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you were serious.”
Holly sat down on her bed. “I was.”
“You’re not shocked?”
“Did you like it?”
“I’m not sure.”
Holly sat a little longer, thinking. Then she pointed her phone downwards and took another photo of her feet. On the floor, side by side, just there.
“Text me tomorrow,” she said, and switched her phone off.
The next evening, Simon texted. Holly had gone into her room to wait, in case he did, and had told Charlotte she was reading. Her phone beeped, and she picked it up. Simon had said hi, and was she still okay to talk?
Holly said yes she was.
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he sent. “About feet.”
“So how do you know you’re into it?”
That was pretty honest, she thought. “I like that you’re honest,” she sent, just so he knew.
“I never have been before,” he said. “But…”
“You really like feet?”
She sent him a picture. Of her left foot. Then, “Like how? From the side, or top, or what?”
“Any. You’ve done your nails. Since yesterday.”
Holly had. Because of this. “Yes,” she said.
“It looks nice.”
“Thank you,” Holly sent, then thought for a moment. “You mean my feet are, right?”
“All of you that I’ve seen, but your feet especially.”
“Thank you,” Holly typed, then suddenly had no idea what else to say. “So you’ve never told someone before?” she added.
“But you’re glad you told me?”
“I am,” he sent, then, “It’s working out well.” And a smile.
Holly hesitated, then decided she liked him, and was interested what he was into, and she could say no if he got too weird. “Is there anything you want me to do?” she said.
“Do you have shoes?”
“Dude. Of course.”
“Put some on.”
She looked over at her wardrobe. There were a lot to choose from. “Um,” she sent. “Like what?”
“Any. Your favourites.”
She wasn’t sure exactly which was her actual favourite, and she almost couldn’t bring herself to pick one, in case she hurt the others that hadn’t been chosen. She didn’t want to pick a favourite, but she knew what he meant, and she was also fairly sure knew what he actually had in mind. So she put a Converse boot on her left foot, and a strappy heel on her right, and took a photo of both her feet in the mirror. Then she took another, because the first had showed too much leg. She sent the second one.
“Nice,” he sent, and a smiley.
She put heels on both feet, and sent that too. And then wrote, “Go ahead when you’re ready.”
“Like last night. And send me a picture.”
He didn’t answer, so she put on a different pair of shoes, and sent him a picture of those too. After a few minutes he sent a picture of himself, semeny again.
She grinned. It was odd, but it was also interesting. What turned people on was just interesting, and it also seemed fairly harmless and strangely fun.
“Tomorrow night?” Holly sent, and then, before he answered, “Bye.”
“When are you going to ask to see my tits?” Holly said the next night.
“Never. I don’t want to offend you.”
“Do you want to see them?”
A pause, as if surprised, then he sent, “Can I?”
“Then perhaps I’ll ask one day. When you’re sure.”
“I’d rather see feet though,” he sent.
“Over anything?” Holly sent, surprised.
Another pause, then he sent, “I think so.”
“You actually had to think about it?”
Holly laughed. She looked at her phone, then sent, “You really would? The feet?”
“I really would.”
“I do. And also, I promise I’ll always tell you the truth.”
Holly thought. “Except about your name.”
“Except about my name, that first time, yes. But from now on, I’ll be honest.”
Holly thought about trust, and secrets, and what they were doing. In an odd way, she thought, this was actually more intimate than sex would be, more intimate than a one-night stand with a stranger, anyway. He was sharing things he wouldn’t tell other people, and she was taking part in those things with him. It was nice what they were doing, in a very weird way, and she actually quite liked it. Even if it seemed mostly about his odd turn-ons.
“Me too,” she said, then took a photo of her foot, on her pillow, and sent it. “I’m in my bed,” she sent, in case that mattered to him at all.
It seemed to. She got a come photo back almost right away.
Holly kept sending photos to Simon. She sent a photo of most of her leg, in a party dress, with her best heels on. She sent a photo of her foot, against her other knee, in pyjamas. She sent one of her bare foot in front her shoe rack, and said, “Pick something for me.”
He did, and she sent him a photo of her wearing those.
She was quite enjoying herself.
Charlotte began to tease Holly about the amount of time she was spending in her room, but Holly said she was tired, and busy at work, and that she was ignoring Charlotte.
She sent Simon more pictures. Of her painting her toes, and pulling off her tights. Her liked the first and not the second, and she wasn’t quite sure why, when they both seemed a bit fetishy, but she also didn’t really care.
He said he’d be late one night because he was going out with friends. She told him to text anyway when he got in, and he did, once she was already in bed. She kicked back the covers and lifted up her leg and sent a picture of her foot against the ceiling.
“That’s all,” she said. “I’m almost asleep.”
“Goodnight,” he sent, which was kind of sweet.
He sent two pictures of his come the next night. He said he hadn’t known if she left her phone on at night, and hadn’t wanted to wake her by texting when she was asleep. She didn’t, but it really quite sweet that he’d thought of it. So sweet that she almost wanted to, just to not be woken up. She sent him, “Thank you,” and a picture of her toes instead.
They talked more, in between times, and seemed to be getting to know one another. She sent more photos of her feet, too. Pictures from different parts of the house, because she was trying to keep her photos interesting. Her feet in the kitchen, when Charlotte was out. Her feet in front the TV. He teased her about watching trash TV, and said he’d flicked through channels until he found what seemed to be the show she’d had on, and he wasn’t impressed, not at all. Then he sent a picture of himself, semeny. He did every time she sent him one of her feet.
Holly had a collection of semen photos. She looked at them, sometimes, and liked having them, but they didn’t really turn her on. Not like her feet turned him on. It was more just a fun game, for her, rather than anything hugely sexy. All the same, she liked what they were doing. She didn’t quite understand why, but she did. It was oddly friendly, almost. She was letting a stranger wank over photos of her feet, and it wasn’t even sexual to her. It was just chatting, getting to know him, and he happened to stop and jerk off every so often as they did.
She liked the game. She liked the idea of knowing something about him that no-one else in the world knew, and she liked how unusual his kink was. As well, she’d always quite liked seeing men come, just because of the curiosity value of the whole squirting outwards thing. She asked him to try and get a photo of that actually happening, but he never quite managed. He was distracted at the wrong time, he said, but he’d keep trying.
As they talked, Holly got an impression of who he was. He seemed gentle. He seemed very grateful, too. He liked this, he said, and he wanted her to be happy doing it. He didn’t want to scare her off.
“You’re not,” she said, and then switched off the phone for the night.
“Is there anything you want from me?” Simon asked one night.
“Pictures? Anything? Anything I can do?”
“Show me your face.”
There was a pause, then he sent a selfie picture of him holding the camera out in front of himself. He was young. He had short hair and a straggly beard and looked like a bit of a hipster.
Holly sat there for a moment, looking at his face, then sent one back of her tattoo. It was a iris on her shoulderblade and it was almost enough to identify her. Almost, but not quite.
Not that him knowing her phone number wouldn’t identify her too.
“Have you got a girlfriend?” she sent.
A smiley. “No. You?”
A silence. Holly sat there, looking at the phone, and wondering what that exchange actually meant. It felt oddly like that little moment when you said you liked someone, and grinned like an idiot, and they grinned back. It felt like that, except that she was looking at her phone, not a person.
Then again, he was silent too. He was silent for a little too long.
The delay went on.
“Tomorrow,” Holly sent suddenly, because that delay was starting to seem actually intimate and personal and she wasn’t sure it didn’t scare her a little.
The next night Holly was out, but Simon said he’d wait up. She came home tipsy, and said she was, and he said good, he’d take advantage.
“Go on,” Holly sent.
“I won’t really.”
“No, go on. What would you actually say to me, if you knew I was going to pass out and not remember it tomorrow?”
Simon didn’t answer for a moment. Holly sat there, waiting, expecting something really weird, but it turned out he’d just been typing. “What turns you on?” he wrote. “You know what does for me. So what does for you? What’s the secret thing you never told a soul about before but always wanted to try?”
Holly lay there for a moment, trying to decide. “I don’t know,” she sent.
“No, I mean, I don’t actually know. I’m thinking about it now. I’m deciding.”
Simon waited, then sent, “I won’t tell a soul.”
“I won’t even mention it to you ever again, if you don’t want me to.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“If you ask me to I won’t.”
Holly thought. She couldn’t quite decide how honest to be. Or how desperately he wanted to know. “I just took a photo of my tits,” she sent. “I’ll send that, or send the answer. You choose.”
“Unless that’s a really awful thing to say? Like rude?”
“No. Just a surprise.”
“Did you really take a photo of your tits?”
Holly smiled at her phone. “Nope.”
“So are you going to tell me the answer?”
Holly lay there, thinking.
“Please?” Simon sent.
Holly was in her pyjamas, in loose shorts. She pushed them down, and took a photo of her pussy. A really rude photo, mostly from the top, so not as completely porno as it could be, but still enough he could see her. She looked at it for a moment, unsure whether she should, then sent it.
Then she sent, “Ask me again tomorrow,” and switched off her phone.
“Thank you,” Simon sent the next evening.
“Yeah,” Holly said. “I’m still not sure I should have sent that.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She lay there for a minute, on her bed, thinking, then she sat up and took off her top. She took a photo of herself in the mirror, carefully close up, so he couldn’t see her face. She sent it.
“So you have the set,” she sent.
He sent a smiley, then, “So are you going to answer? About what turns you on?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of weird.”
“And right now I’m looking at pictures of your feet.”
“Yeah,” she sent. “I suppose.” That was actually that which had almost decided her.
“I won’t be put off you,” he sent. “I promise. If that’s what’s worrying you.”
“You say that now,” she sent. “But…”
“You just trusted me with pictures of you. Of all of you.”
“Yeah,” she sent. “But no…” Somehow a picture of her pussy was actually less personal than him knowing her biggest turn-on. “And not a picture of my face.”
She looked at her phone. She wondered if it was sensible to tell him. Until now this had all been fun, and she was enjoying it, but until now she hadn’t really been risking anything. Just photos of her feet.
She thought. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know, but then again, it probably wasn’t that bad if he did. She didn’t know him, she’d probably never meet him, and he was most likely on the other side of the country anyway. And it would actually be nice to actually tell someone, she thought. She never had before.
“Do you know what pegging is?” she sent.
He didn’t answer for a moment. Long enough to worry her, to make her think she’d disgusted him so much that even her feet wouldn’t get him back.
“I do now,” he sent. “Cool.”
The pause had been him searching the internet, she realized.
“Cool?” she sent. “Meaning what…?”
“Yeah, cool. It’s different, but…”
“Yeah right,” she sent. “So you’d let me do it to you, would you?”
She lay there for a moment, unsure what to think. She was surprised. She was a little excited. Finally, she was actually turned on. After all this, with him, that was what had got to her excited.
She wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she decided to stop and think. “I’m going to sleep,” she sent. “Tomorrow night, okay?”
She looked at her phone, then sent, “And don’t mention this again until I do. And don’t reply to this.”
He didn’t. She lay there for a while, deciding whether to get herself off, but then went to sleep without starting. She was actually a little unsettled that she’d told him, and he hadn’t been shocked.
Perhaps she should have told someone sooner.
Holly and Simon texted again over the next few nights, and she sent more photos of her feet, and one of her tits, but she only got semen photos back when she sent feet. She was starting to think he was actually telling her the truth about what he liked. He also didn’t mention pegging again, which she was glad of.
She was so glad she decided to be a little more trusting.
“Do you have a computer?” she asked.
“There? Like there with you now?”
“Do you want to talk? Like hear each other’s voices?”
“If you like.”
“It might be easier than texting all the time.”
“But you can’t see my face.”
He hesitated. “Okay. I don’t mind you seeing mine, though.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
Holly got her laptop and put it on the bed in front of her. She folded the lid forward, pointing the camera quite low, so her feet were showing and some of her legs, but not her waist or chest, and definitely not her face. She put on headphones, so Charlotte couldn’t eavesdrop, and checked again where the camera was pointed, then sent him a link so they could chat.
She couldn’t see him on the screen, with the lid bent that far down, but she could hear him. Hearing was enough for now. Simon had a nice voice. A soft voice, like he wasn’t very used to shouting. Like he didn’t have to be loud to get his own way, or didn’t mind not getting his own way at all. She liked that, and decided she trusted him more.
“I like your voice,” Holly said. It was odd to be speaking.
“I like yours.”
“You sound kind.”
“You sound smart. And hot.”
She sat there for a while. “You’re clever,” she said. “Saying smart first. That was clever.”
Simon sounded like he was smiling. “Thank you,” he said.
“Talk to me,” she said. “Just talk. Tell me shit. Everything it was too much hassle to say when we were having to type it out.”
He did. They talked. They didn’t do anything dirty, and she was pretty sure Simon didn’t wank. She just sat on her bed, then, after a while lay down, and she talked to him, and he looked at her feet and talked back. They talked about life, and work, and ambitions, and places they wanted travel. About Holly’s ex, and Simon’s boss, and how well Holly got on with her family, which wasn’t very well at all. About the dog Holly had when she was a kid, and how it got run over, and then about Simon’s grief at losing his grandfather a year or two ago. They talked for hours, as if once they both knew each other’s deepest secret, then sharing the rest of themselves didn’t matter.
It was nice, Holly thought. She liked how they were talking.
“I’m going to sleep now,” Holly said, eventually. “But we can do this tomorrow if you like.”
“I would like.”
“And we can go back to normal then too. But it was nice just to talk, for a night.”
She closed the laptop lid before he could answer.
The next night, they talked again. After an hour, Holly said, “You can if you want to, just go ahead.”
“Do you mean…?”
“See to yourself. Attend to matters. Yep.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll just listen.”
He went quiet.
“I’d like to listen,” Holly said. “I haven’t been able to before now.”
“Oh,” he said. “Yes, I suppose not.”
“So go on,” Holly said. “Please.”
He did. She assumed he did. She couldn’t hear very much, just his breathing getting faster and rougher. Then a couple of groans.
“Are you done?” she said, after a while.
“Oh, yes, I am,”
“Could you show me?” she said.
She heard his microphone crackle, like he was moving his computer. She realized she’d need to move hers, too. She’d need to fold the lid up so she could see what he was showing her.
“Don’t look at the screen,” she said.
She tried to put her hand over her laptop’s camera, and opened the lid. She looked. His computer was pointed at his lap. It wasn’t as tidy as taking pictures on the phone had been, and a couple of minutes had passed, and he’d gone soft and flopped sideways, but she could see him, and see what he’d done. She could see him moving up and down a little, as he breathed.
“You’re dripping,” she said.
His camera moved suddenly, as if he was reaching for tissues. She pointed her laptop back at her feet, and said, “I’m good. Go clean up.”
After that, they got into a habit. Simon wanked most nights, while they talked. They just talked until he was ready and then he went quiet and groaned and sighed and got himself off. Usually he looked at Holly’s feet on his laptop, and then he showed her himself afterwards. Holly tried masturbating once too, just to try it, but she didn’t come very well because she was too embarrassed to use a vibrator in case he heard it, and so only used her hand. She watched him all the way through once, as well. Watching as he did it, not just looking at him afterwards. She made him promise not to look up at her face as he wanked, and he seemed to keep the promise, which made her trust him a little more.
She realized he’d never mentioned pegging again, either, which helped with her trust too.
She trusted him, she decided. She trusted him enough to ask where he was, just to see. She assumed it would be the other side of the country, because it just seemed too unlikely that he’d actually be nearby.
He was nearby. He was in Sydney.
She should have guessed, she supposed. A fifth of the other people in Australia were in Sydney.
She lay there for a moment, after he told her, then said, “So if we met up…”
“Do you want to?”
“Maybe. Would you want to meet up with me?”
“What would we do.”
He didn’t answer.
“What would you want to do,” Holly said. “To me. If I was there in person?”
“I’m not sure I can say it.”
“Please?” she said, a little desperately. Saying please the way he’d said it to her a few days ago.
Her phone beeped. She bent down and picked it up. He’d sent her a message. “Wank on your feet,” he had written.
She looked at the phone, and at the computer. “Hold on,” she said out loud. “I’m texting.”
“Just that?” she texted. “Not fuck me?”
“Just that,” he texted back. “Unless you wanted to do more.”
Holly looked at the computer, and decided it was better doing this with text messages. Better for them both. It felt more private, less like an actual risk of being hurt or refused or rejected.
“More like what?” she sent.
“Like what I told you about?”
“You’d let me do that to you?” she sent, wanting to be certain.
“Well, I can’t judge what you like. Not when I like what I do. Especially when I like what I like, if you let me do mine to you.”
“What if it hurts you?”
“So we’ll be careful.”
Holly looked at the message for a moment, then rolled over and got her computer. She pushed the screen up, and put her face in view of the camera. She could see Simon now, see the picture of Simon on her screen. He was sitting in front of his computer, but looking downwards. Looking down, at his phone, in his lap. He looked almost worried.
“Hey,” Holly said, and Simon looked up.
He looked up, then jumped, and then turned his head away.
“Careful,” he said. “You’re on the screen.”
“I know. I meant to be.”
“You can look.”
He did. He looked for a while. “I was right,” he said. “All the rest of you looks smart too. And hot.”
Holly grinned. She waved, after a moment. “Hi.”
He waved back. “Hi.”
“So,” Holly said. “Want to meet me somewhere?”
“If you’d like to. But only if you’d like to.”
“And do my thing? And then do yours?”
Holly sat there, thinking. She wanted to meet him. She almost needed to. She needed to do this, to see him in person, now they were talking about it. She needed to do it, and not to wait, either. She needed not change her mind.
“What are you doing right now?” she said.
Simon grinned. “Nothing much.”
“I’m probably going to say I want to meet you right now.”
“I probably want you to.”
“Which shoes?” Holly said suddenly, thinking practically. “Do you care which I wear?”
He flushed, then shook his head. He was looking down at his phone again, as if he was more used to talking to her like that. “It’s you,” he said. “Not the shoes. I don’t care what you wear.”
“Oh,” Holly said, and then just sat there for a moment. She was going to go, she realized. She was going to let him jerk off on her feet.
She was going to let him jerk off on her feet, and she was going to fuck him with a dildo.
She almost said she was on her way, then she realized, almost heartbroken, that she couldn’t. Not right away. Not tonight. She needed to go shopping first.
“Fuck,” she said. “I want to, but I’m really sorry. We can’t. For mine, I need a…”
Simon looked embarrassed again. “I’ve got one.”
“Oh,” Holly said. “You do?”
“Have you done this before or something?” Holly said.
“No, just… After you told me, I went and got one. Just…” he stopped.
Holly wasn’t sure what he’d been going to say. Just in case. Just to try it out. She wasn’t sure, and Simon might not have been either. Either way made her wet. Either made her utterly ache for him, like she couldn’t stand to wait any longer.
“Well,” he said. “Anyway. I have what we’d need. If that helps.”
“It helps,” Holly said. She looked at him for a moment, and couldn’t stand the waiting any more.
“Where are you?” she said.
He picked up his phone, and held it up, showing her, then texted her his address.
“I’m on the way,” Holly said, and closed her laptop lid.
She almost stopped and had a shower and put on makeup and got ready like she normally would to go and fuck someone for the first time. She almost did, but she couldn’t wait. And it was really only her feet he’d care about anyway, she supposed, not any of the rest of her. And her feet were done. Her feet were exfoliated and polished and ready, like they had been every night for two weeks. She could rinse them when she got there if she needed to, she decided. But right now, she needed to go. She couldn’t wait. She wanted to start. And she didn’t want to risk waiting too long, and changing her mind, and never talking to him again, either.
“Who first?” Holly said, when she arrived. She was at Simon’s front door, on his front steps, standing there in the night.
Simon looked surprised.
“Hi,” Holly said. “Don’t talk too much, or I’ll change my mind. Who goes first?”
“I don’t mind.”
“I want to,” she said. “Be first.”
He nodded. “All right.”
“Not because I don’t trust you,” she said. “Not because I think you’ll do you thing and then change your mind about mine. Not because doing mine is obviously a bigger deal or something. Not any of that. It’s the other way around, actually. I think I’ll change my mind if I wait much longer.”
“So can we?”
“Come in,” he said, and got out her way, and then closed the door behind her. There was a hallway, and a light on in one room. A bedroom, down the far end.
“There’s no-one else here, right?” Holly said. She was pretty sure he’d said he lived by himself, but she wanted to made sure.
“So let’s go.”
They went into the bedroom. He had a strap on, and a dildo, and lube. Holly had no idea what to do with any of those.
She took off her clothes, because that seemed the simplest way to start. She hardly thought about how she was stripping in front of him for the first time, and usually, she’d have been very aware of that. Feeling bare, or exposed, or wondering how he’d react, just a little. Now, with Simon, she just undressed. He’d already seen all of her that he cared about.
She undressed, then stood there naked, holding the dildo. She really wasn’t sure what to do next.
Simon seemed to realize. He asked if he should show her, and then did when she nodded uncertainly. He’d worked it out, he said, fiddling around with it a few nights ago. He showed her. He dressed her, almost. There was a harness around her hips, and between her legs, and a holder that the dildo went into it. He put it in, while she watched, and it pressed against her in a quite a nice way. She was surprised. She hadn’t expected that. It was strange having him organize it all for her, but the whole situation was strange. Oddly, though, it wasn’t embarrassing. It couldn’t be, not any more, not when they both knew each other like they did.
They put the dildo on her, then Simon undressed too, and then they kissed for a little while, while she stood there with the dildo bumping against his leg.
“Can we?” she said. “Are you ready?”
He was, he said. He’d tried it the night before. He seemed unsure how much to say, but seemed to want to ask about what she planned to do. To ask if she had any idea what she was about to try, she supposed, and if she was going to go at him like she’d seen in porn, and hurt him. She said she’d done anal, she’d had it done to her, and she’d be careful. She asked for the lube, and he gave it to her and she smeared it on the dildo, as best she could.
She wasn’t really sure where to start, so she kissed him. She kissed him, and that was nice, especially since they hadn’t before. There was kissing, and lube, and touching, and she’d seen enough porn of people doing this to have some idea what to do. She kissed him, and held his cock, and then slid her fingers back to his ass, and inside him, and he didn’t seem to be uncomfortable, so she kept doing what she was.
After a while, he knelt on the bed, and said he was ready. She kissed him a little more, on his back, but she couldn’t quite reach to do anything more than that once she was kneeling behind him. She stroked him, down his spine, and then started.
She watched the dildo go inside him.
She watched the dildo go inside him, and then she watched herself fuck him. It felt different to what she’d expected, doing this. Less sexy, and more mystical. It felt profound. It felt like a gift he was giving her, by letting her try something special to her.
She moved slowly, and took care, and didn’t actually put it all the way inside him. She looked at his back, at the way his muscles there tensed. She looked at the way his cock hung down in front of her dildo. She moved, slowly, happy to just be doing this, not especially trying to make anything happen. She could see how the dildo might pleasure her too, if she moved the right way, and faster. She could see, but she didn’t try. Tonight wasn’t for that, it was for knowing she was doing this.
She knelt there for a while, fucking him, and then thought about doing anal herself, and how pretty soon it could get to be too much to stand.
She slid out slowly, and said, “I think I’m done.”
“Are you sure?” he said, in a slightly hoarse voice.
“Yep. Thank you.”
“I can a bit longer…”
“No, it’s fine. I’m good. I’m really good, thank you.”
She stepped back, and he turned around, and showed her how to get the dildo out of the harness. He went into the bathroom, and rinsed it quickly. She took the harness off, and then stood there, waiting for him. He came back, and strangely, she still didn’t really feel naked. He looked at her tits, and her legs, but he was mostly looking at her feet, and she was used to Simon staring at her feet by now.
“Okay,” she said. “So where? What do I do? And did I say thank you, by the way?”
He smiled. “No, but it’s fine. I’m glad to.”
“So where? Assuming you’re kind of impatient too…?”
“On the bed, I suppose.”
“But lying down?”
He shrugged, so Holly assumed yes, and lay down.
“Do you want me to do myself too?” she said.
“Oh,” he said, and seemed to think about that. “Yes, actually. If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
She lay on the bed, and looked up at him, and masturbated. And he looked at her feet, and masturbated slowly too. It was intimate, she thought, and a little odd, but nothing compared to what she’d just done to him.
She was glad she had first, she thought. She understood what he was probably feeling a little better. It wasn’t just kinky or sex or getting off. It was something a little bit more. His face looked like she had felt. Intense, and thoughtful, and lost.
He wanked slowly, and after a while he came. She heard him groan, a groan she already knew fairly well, and she felt hot semen splash onto the side of her foot. She didn’t especially notice that, though, because she was concentrating on his face. Now he was coming, he looked ecstatic. He was doing something he’d probably never thought he would, she supposed. Even more so than for her, this moment mattered, because his was somehow different. His was about coming. Hers was more about just trying.
He came, and she lay there for a moment, after he was done, not sure what to do next. Not sure if she was meant to wait a little, and let him look. It seemed not. He got a tissue and wiped her foot, and then went and flushed it in the bathroom.
She sat up, and was a little more aware of being bare, now. She put her knees vaguely in front of her chest, and her arms around her knees. She stayed like that when he came back in to the room, and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
“So,” she said.
She didn’t know what to say, or do. It was awkward.
“I should go,” she said.
He nodded, but looked disappointed.
She got dressed slowly, not speaking, not sure what to say. It had been fairly intense, fairly profound, and they weren’t even particularly accustomed to being in the same room together. She felt a little awkward. She wondered how to say goodbye, and if she should kiss him, or shake his hand, or what.
That was an odd thing to have to wonder about.
“Thank you,” she said. “For that. For letting me try it.”
Holly hesitated, and had a horrible feeling this was it. That they’d both be too uncomfortable to ever see each other again.
She wanted to say something, to tell him how she felt. She wanted to say something, but she had no idea what.
Then she realized. She knew what to say. She knew how to fix their uncomfortableness. She simply needed to say what she’d always said to him before. What she’d said to tell him she was okay, and that she wanted to do more.
“Tomorrow?” she said.
That was enough. He started to smile.
“Well?” she said. “Do you want to?”
“Here?” Holly said. “Like in person? Or on the computer?”
“Good,” Holly said, and grinned, and opened his front door. “And maybe we could fuck normally this time.”
She was thinking of him, and that he might be sore. She was thinking herself and that she’d quite like to come too.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Maybe. Sometime. Tomorrow or next week.”
Simon shrugged. “Or tomorrow.”
Holly looked at him, and was oddly excited. She wanted to do their odd things a lot more. She wanted to so much that she almost stayed. She would have, but their pattern had worked well for them until now, and she didn’t want to spoil it.
So instead she kissed him, and said, “Tomorrow,” and then left.
That seemed the sensible thing to do.