She’s small, but big. Young, short, incredibly busty. She’s used to sending pictures of her breasts to men. She says she doesn’t like her breasts, but if I ask her to show me her body, her breasts crowd out whatever else she might try to show me. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s so used to it, to feeding “tit guys” pictures of her gigantic breasts over and over, or if it’s because it’s what she’s comfortable sharing, even if, as she says, she doesn’t like her breasts.
She sends me pictures of her face – always the same expression on it, her eyebrows lifted in a surprise – a big, eager-to-please smile on her mouth.
For a hot moment, she was incredibly compliant – giving me everything I asked and more, keeping my cock hard over a period of days. But then, something happened. Her life intervened? I’m not sure. She kept promising, but failing to deliver, failing, even, to acknowledge she was failing to deliver.
My patience was tried.
The truth is, as I told her, I have something like infinite patience for life’s intervening in the sending of hotness to a strange guy you’ve never met. But I have something like negligible patience for disrespect, disregard, abandonment. Which is, alas, the strategy she’s chosen with me.
Too bad – it seemed like sending me what I asked for got her pussy pretty wet. It definitely got my cock hard. And there was at least the possibility of our being in the same place at the same time.
I hope she changes her mind, that she decides, once again, to give me what I need of her.