No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive Read Online Free Page B

world or some such) but at the same time I was chuffed that he still wanted to chat. And he really did. His spelling got a bit worse the more he drank and his language got dirtier, but by the end he was most definitely, in newspaper parlance, sexting.
    It was hot, made oddly hotter by the fact he was sat in a group in the pub unable to do anything while I was comfortably curled up on the sofa in a convenient place todeal with any lustful urges. He’d just sent me a message detailing pinching my nipples when I had a surge of inspiration on how to take advantage of that difference in social setting. I used my camera phone to take a picture of my breasts, showing how hard my nipples were.
    Now, I’m not (too) foolish. I deleted the picture afterwards and my face wasn’t in it – not, I hasten to add, because I had any particular concerns about trusting Adam, but more because if either one of us lost our phones I didn’t want pictures of me grinning with my baps out available to any random person who found the handset.
    When my phone pinged, telling me I had another message, I felt a bit nervous before I read it. I’d just sent him a picture of my breasts on their own for goodness’ sake. Who finds that hot? What if his friends had seen? The message opened.
You’re incredible. X
    I couldn’t decide if he was talking specifically about my breasts or my new-found propensity for sexting, but either way as compliments went I was happy with that.
    As you might expect, things got hotter and ruder from that point on as the night progressed. Finally I got a text saying he was home, feeling a bit drunk but lying in bed, relieved that – finally – he was able to touch himself at last.
    After a smart-arse message about how I was impressed with his self-restraint, but it was probably a good thing as otherwise he might have disturbed his cab driver, suddenly my phone trilled into life.
    This wasn’t a text message. He was ringing me.
    I know, it’s bonkers for me to have felt awkward about that, but I really did. I answered with some trepidation. Maybe it’s daft, maybe it’s a sign of my confidence in the written word, but actually talking to him felt a bit embarrassing after all the rude texts. Typing was definitely easier.
    The first thing I thought when he said hello was that I’d forgotten (or maybe not noticed at all) how lovely his voice was. Deep, soothing. The second thing I thought, with not a little relief, was that while he sounded tired he didn’t sound completely shit-faced. Always a relief. Actually, he was very coherent and rather creative with the dirty things he started saying to me. At his suggestion, I slipped my hand into my knickers as we talked and I soon felt my orgasm approaching. He must have heard my breathing change, because suddenly his voice was in my ear with the worst kind of inopportune statement.
    ‘Don’t come yet please, Sophie.’
    What? Was he kidding? I asked him to repeat what he’d just said. Alas, I hadn’t misheard.
    I held off as long as I could, changing the movements of my fingers, but frankly it was a difficult one, not least because we’d been driving each other crazy for hours by this point.
    Finally he spoke again, asking me to come now, to come with him. I wasn’t even sure what he meant as my orgasm washed over me, but then I heard his groan and realised. It made me smile.
    We chatted into the early hours after that. Some kinkstuff, some life stuff. It was nice, made me feel this wasn’t all about us getting our rocks off. Although a great part of it was, and that was OK too.
    Finally he asked me if I would consider some no-strings D/s fun with him. My concerns had been eased through our chats and I knew what my answer would be. That didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to play with him a little before I answered.
    ‘That’s hardly a fair question to ask someone after they’ve just had an orgasm.’
    He laughed, and it felt warm and intimate and made me smile in the