the patter of rain against the window almost intensified your impatience, teeth gnawing into your lip so deep that you were sure it’d scar.

abby had been gone for days — no, weeks now. you knew it was business, and she had to, but god were you pent up. and from the array of pictures she’d sent you, from fully suited up to clad in only a sports bra, your desperation for her only got worse. somehow, even toys didn’t cut it. you needed her.

and it was as if by some telepathic magic that she knew this. maybe she just knew your nature — hell, at least in the bedroom, she did. so why was it that you were surprised when the video came through?

a soft ding, headlined with your girlfriend’s name, coloured you confused — only the video, captioned ’to tide you over’, left your mouth bone-dry. and other places, well..

it wasn’t hard to make out. her bed was slightly strewn, covers crinkling, pillows messy and one clamped between her muscular thighs — large, veiny hands and strong arms holding it down — as she slowly rolled her hips, gradually increasing the intensity (and with it, the volume of her low breaths and whimpers).

fuck. eleven minutes of this?