Westdale, Part 1

“I don’t sext, but I’m willing to chat.”

Mari finished typing, then sat back in trepidation. She’d been on Reddit for a couple of years, and recently posted in a wlw forum, only to be inundated by guys. 

They were so gross; when they didn’t dive in her DMs with overtly sexual messages, they’d just send a dick pic, as if that’d magically turn any woman into a stark raving sexual beast.

Her internal monologue screamed, “It’s a woman-loving-woman forum, dudes. Get a clue.”

Then this girl DMed her. She seemed nice and all. Until I went through her post history. Smut story after smut story, and such peculiar topics. 

But she seemed nice. 

“I wasn’t looking to sext. Just looking to chat.”  

“We will see,” Mari thought to herself.

But, surprisingly, she didn’t try to sext. We chatted about family, about our music interests, about our respective majors. I was home from Westdale, a small private college. She went to a large southern state school. Both of us had similar backgrounds. And both of us were lesbian. 

And when she’d slide off for the night, I’d dive through her post history. Trying to learn more about her. Could the woman who was so sweet when we’d chat really have this perverse mindset? Writing about these scary, sexy topics?

I didn’t even notice my hand had slid down into my panties as I read story after story after story. Wondering what it would be like to be the one this was happening to. To be tied down. To have unspeakable things done to me.

I exploded, my finger continuing to rub as my back arched in my desk chair, my leg perched over the arm of the chair giving me access to my sensitive bits.

I even kept rubbing after the orgasm was over, relishing the ache of being too sensitive. From what I’ve read, overstimulation was one of her fetishes. And the sub in me wondered what the domme in her would do to me if we ever met in real life. 

*PLINK* A DM popped up on Reddit. From her.

“Hey Mari, how was your day?”

I sucked my sticky fingers clean of my juices, then tried to type nonchalantly, hoping those same fingers wouldn’t reveal the secret of what I’ve just done.

“Not too bad, Cassie. Just filled out a few internship applications for next summer.”