It was a quiet evening alone, the kind where old memories creep in uninvited. I’d been scrolling through forgotten folders on my phone when the photos appeared. Old cell phone shots of her. I was surprised—I thought I had deleted them years ago. Grainy, low-res images from back when we were reckless and insatiable.
Her pale body sprawled on my bed, legs spread wide, fingers buried deep in her slick, swollen pussy. Another captured her on her knees, lips stretched tight around my cock, eyes lifted with that filthy gleam. Raw, unfiltered, and so fucking hot they hit me like a punch to the gut.
The memories flooded back. Her dirty texts that used to light up my phone at all hours, detailing exactly how she’d ride me until we both collapsed, or how she’d beg me to fill her up. Just thinking about it made my cock twitch and harden instantly, straining against my jeans.
I poured myself a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid glowing under the dim lamplight. One sip turned into two. Warmth spread through my chest, loosening my inhibitions. Her number was still in my contacts—I hadn’t deleted it after all these years. I told myself it was fate, but bourbon and a throbbing cock told the real story. I opened a new text. Friendly chit-chat? No, she’d see through that bullshit in a second. Be direct.
I typed: Just one thought of you still gets me so hard.
Sent. My heart pounded as I stared at the screen. Three dots appeared… then vanished. Nothing.
Fuck. I set the phone down, walked to the kitchen for a refill, trying to play it cool.
It chimed.
I damn near sprinted back, fumbling the phone.
A photo loaded: her dark jeans yanked down to her thighs, teal panties shoved aside, two fingers plunged deep into her glistening pussy. Mirror selfie, hasty and desperate—her face flushed, lower lip caught between her teeth.
My breath caught. I felt dizzy. My throbbing cock pulled my focus back to the screen.
Three dots again.
So. Wet.
Holy shit. This escalated fast. My head spun as I typed back: Fuck. Show me more. Spread those lips for me.
Another photo arrived. Close-up of her shaved pussy, fingers parting the slick folds wide, juices shining under the flash. Her perfect clit stood swollen and flushed, begging to be touched. I could almost taste her sweetness again.
I remember how you used to make me do this. Tell me what to do.
The power rush hit me hard.
Rub that clit slow. Imagine my tongue there, licking you clean.
A short, shaky video followed. Her fingertips circled her swollen clit in lazy strokes while her faint voice moaned my name softly in the background.
Harder. Finger yourself like I used to fuck you.
Photos poured in.
Her perky B-cup tits bare, the soft, curved undersides catching the light, nipples hard and swollen, dark pink and peaked from pinching. Dirty blonde hair spilled over her shoulders.
Then one of her lying on her stomach, naked ass lifted high in the air. The soft, round cheeks parted just enough to show the inviting crease where thigh met ass—smooth skin begging for my hands, my mouth, my teeth.
And then the one that tore a groan from my throat: a jeweled butt plug pulled halfway out, her wedding ring glinting on her finger as she held the base, light flaring off the metal and the slick coating her skin. Married now? The forbidden edge only made it hotter.
That’s it. Push it back in. Fuck your ass with it while you rub your pussy.
She obeyed, sending proof: a nine-second video, the plug seated deep, her fingers a frantic blur over her clit, wet sounds faint but unmistakable.
I stroked myself furiously, sending back pics—my cock hard and veiny, pre-cum dripping down the shaft.
Cum for me. Now.
The final photos landed. Her fingers pulled free, coated thick and sticky, creamy strands webbing between them. One last shot showed them pressed to her lips, tongue sliding out slowly to lick, tasting herself while her eyes locked on the camera with that same filthy promise from years ago.
Thanks for the memory.
I came hard, spilling over my hand in thick pulses, the bourbon forgotten on the table. Old flames die hard—or maybe they just burn dirtier.
