Let Me Explain
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2024 by Mat Twassel
Erotica Sex Story: Emily has been home for three days, and she misses Daniel so much. Her roommate Ashley attempts to help her out. Illustrated.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Fiction Masturbation Oral Sex Illustrated .
Dearest Daniel
Let me explain.
So I’d been home for three days, and I was missing you so much. It felt like three years. And I was kind of moping about feeling sorry for myself, and I’m on the bed, and Ashley comes in and says, “You miss him, don’t you?”
I nod sorrowfully.
And she goes, “Does he know about us?”
So I go, “He knows we’re roommates.”
Ashley nods and says, “Uh huh.”
I roll over onto my tummy.
Ashley says, “So what are you going to do about it?”
I don’t have an answer. I’d asked myself the same question a million times.
She says, “You should send him a sexy picture of yourself.”
“I don’t feel sexy,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” Ashley says. “You’re ridiculously sexy. It’ll be as much for you as for him.”
Somehow she talks me into it. She goes to this site and finds a picture and says, “One like this.”
“He won’t like that,” I tell her, but I knew that wasn’t true.
“You’re already wearing the stockings,” Ashley says. “All you need to add is some sexy underwear.”
“I don’t have any,” I claimed.
“Liar,” Ashley says, and she goes to my drawer and pulls out this black lace pair.
“Fine, fine,” I say, and I put them on.
But Ashley says the stockings aren’t quite right. She wants to cut off the feet. “Your toes are really sexy,” she says.
“Maybe so,” I tell her, “but be that as it may, these are my favorite stockings and I’m not ruining them.”
“Fine,” Ashley says, and she arranges me in a pose like the model.
“This is stupid,” I tell her. “He’s going to hate it.”
“He’s going to love it,” Ashley says. “And if he doesn’t, you can put the blame all on me.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” I say.
She aims my phone. Takes I don’t know how many pictures.
“Are we done?” I ask.
“Something’s missing,” she says.
“What?”
“I know.” She goes to the drawer. “Ta da!” She sets Mister Blue on the bed. “This’ll get his juices flowing.”
“I don’t think—” I start to protest.
“Trust me,” she says, and she takes more pictures. Then she stops.
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