Let Me Explain - Cover

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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