This Was Where She Should Stop

There was a layer of bubble wrap and she pulled it out noting about a quarter of the bubbles were popped. 'Of course, he would get pleasure in popping shipping bubbles like a little kid.' The idea of it made her smile and she popped a couple herself before looking at the contents. There was another box, which she pulled out. Its branding suggested it held a dildo — the kind which was custom made from a mold of a real man's penis. Under that box was a small smartphone. Likely a burner. As soon as she picked it up, it buzzed in her hand. Touching the home key, she perused the contents to find the messaging app and opened it to find a message.

This is safer for me. And you too

She nodded as if he could see the response and put the phone down. 'I need more wine,' she thought as she put the new phone, shipping box and dildo box on her coffee table and headed back to the kitchen and brought the rest of the second bottle back to the living room.

Sitting down with a plop, she folded her legs under her body and filled her glass again. After a couple more drinks of liquid courage, she took the second box, opened it and pulled out a bigger than average sized silicone penis from it. It had a soft texture — rather real feeling — and just to the left side of the shaft, a wine colored shape had been dyed on. All in all, it was a rather lovely cock. One she knew she'd enjoy.

Is this what I think it is? - She typed into the new phone, hit send and waited a few seconds for a reply.

It came quickly. - Well, if you think it's a dildo made from a mold of my rock hard cock, then yes.

It's beautiful - she texts back, honestly. It was a lovely specimen — rather thick, long but not too long. Around eight inches give or take a centimeter. - What's with the mark on the side - she asks out of curiosity.

Birthmark - is his answer. A second later, an image of a real penis appears. The same penis, attached to its owner. Clearly visible in the image was a similar birthmark. The sight of the source of this present — which she was beginning to fondle affectionately — caused a warm path to light up from her navel to her clit.

Another message followed. - I wanted it to be as real as a dildo can be so when you fuck it, you know what it will feel like to have me inside of you

What makes you think I'll use it - she asks as if there was any other option at this juncture.

I'm me, you're you - he answered, and she could imagine that smirk, yet again.

He was right and she knew it. 'Pathetic. Pathetic and horny,' she thought to herself, but it was no deterrent from what she knew would happen.

His order followed quickly. - Take off your clothes. Send me a picture. I've shown you mine, I want to see yours.

This was where she should stop. Stop and ask herself "What the fuck do you think is going on here?" Some man — some man who is supposed to be dead — and, to be fair, some man that hasn't even claimed to be said dead man, left a sex toy and phone on her door step and wanted her to get naked and use them. On top of that, wanted her to take pictures and show him.

Some lingering bit of wisdom in her wine addled mind gave a weak protest. Something to the effect of 'you're just asking to be raped and murdered, or murdered and raped, or any combination thereof, with perhaps a dollop of torture on the side.' However, another more convincing part of her brain held fast to Foreman's theory. Held fast to the belief that she recognized the thumb holding down the cock in the image. Some part that believed she knew the shape of his wrist that well.

'If only he'd gotten just a sliver of his right thigh in the background,' she thought.

He was too careful for that. She knew it. Whatever game he was playing with her, he was not ready for her to know for sure. It was a test, perhaps. Or maybe it was just simple lust and curiosity. Maybe after fucking up everything in his less than ideal existence, he finally wondered if he should have taken the easier path with her. They had that much in common — neither was one for choosing the easy path. No, they preferred the hard way. The self-destructive way. The way of most pain.

So, with that thought, she began to peel off her shirt and pulled the drawstring on her comfy cotton pajama pants. A few minutes later she was naked and picked up the burner phone. She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to hold the phone, and do what she and he wanted, until she looked closer at the phone's cover. There was a kickstand on the back.

She smiled. 'Of course, he'd think that far ahead.'

Popping out the stand she propped the phone up on her coffee table directly across from her, found the camera icon, pressed it and turned on the front camera. It only took a few seconds to get a good angle. She turned on the timer for five seconds, set it, laid back and pulled her folds open to show him how wet she was and to show him where she wanted him.

The phone beeped and the fake shutter noise filled the silent apartment room. She set it again, this time turning around to get an image of her backside as she leaned over the couch, begging him to take her from behind. Then one final image of his dildo rubbing against her outer folds, the tip just below her swollen clit.

Sitting up she queued the images and texted them to the only number on the phone.

The wait for his response was exhilarating. Cameron circled her clit slowly with her middle finger — taking her time; drawing out this moment, in case it was all she would ever have with him. After a minute the phone buzzed and she stopped her self-pleasuring to read his response.

I was beginning to think you'd decided not to play. But now I see you are every bit the little slut for me that you claim to be. Fuck, Cameron. I want to fuck your tight little cunt

Her clit throbbed once in agreement as her fingers typed a response. - Then come fuck it House. Cum. Fuck. My. Cunt. I dare you

Quickly a response buzzed in. - House is dead. But I'm not. Careful. You have no idea what you are asking for

With that comment, she positioned the phone again and set it up to record a video. She looked right into the camera and said: "I think I have a good idea" then wiggled the dildo to make her point. Lowering it to between her folds, she rubbed the length of it against her vagina coating it with her juices. After lubricating it fully, she slowly penetrated herself with it. Letting out little moans of pleasure with every decadent inch she plunged into herself. "Fuck. Your cock feels amazing," she cried out before she pulled it out. Leaning forward, she sucked it close up to the lens.

She reached up and with a wink, turned the camera off, then sent it.

Five minutes later she was on the edge of climax when the phone buzzed yet again.

It was a short video, ten seconds or so, showing his cock weeping and his hand stroking the head and smearing the pre-come the length of his shaft. It throbbed and she'd never wanted to fuck a thing so much in her entire life.

Another text message followed.

God that nearly made me cum. cum for me first Cameron I want to see your pussy throb for me

She was so close, she came five seconds into the next video. She let it record for a while afterward, capturing the aftershocks of her climax. Once the twitching and throbbing died down, she sat up, sent the video, and waited.

Coming down from her sex buzz, she began to get nervous.

What had she done?

Who had she done it with?

House was dead — dental records to prove it. Her wanting him alive couldn't make it so. "Fuck!" she screamed to herself, not sure of what to do next. Then another buzz rattled from her coffee table.

I think I just set an ejaculation distance record. Night Cameron. Text next time you're feeling like you need it