Appeal Denied

2015-NYC/UK-19: Oral argument

October 14, 2015

Using my popsocket, I placed the phone on the coffee table, the camera pointing at me, Harry's face filling the screen. Grasping my Eagles jersey in both hands, I pulled it over my head. My breasts sprang free, and Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Oh, Brains. They're so pretty. I've missed them. Could you -- would you cup them for me please? Hold them as if I were there?" Harry's request didn't come as a surprise, but it felt awkward nonetheless.

I'm not shy normally; the circumstances were a bit unusual. When I locked my eyes on his, though, my anxiety lessened, especially when he tacked on, "It's just me, Brains. I've touched them before."

With that, I slid my palms up my naked torso to cradle my boobs, one in each hand. I kept my eyes on Harry because I knew this show was for him. His irises darkened a shade, and he whispered, "Oh yes. You know I always give the left one a tad more love, so would you pinch that nipple for me?"

At my acquiescence, he moaned, "Now roll it between your fingers." I was starting to feel wetness pool between my legs. "And the other one next....." His breathing increased as I shifted my attention to the right nipple, repeating the motions.

"Mmmmmm," Harry groaned. "Um.....do you mind if I...." Without waiting for a response, he untied the robe, pushing it off his shoulders so that I could see his tattoos in all their glory. His dick was riding in its usual place to the left inside his bright pink Calvin Klein boxer briefs. "Sorry. It was....um....getting hot in that robe."

I smiled at him, my eyes roaming from his dick to his eyes and back again. He laughed. "You make me hard, Brains. I missed you."

Unsure if that was the whole truth or if the other woman had something to do with his condition, I allowed my mind to wander to who she might be.

"Hey. Van? You okay?"

His husky voice jerked me back to the present, and I made a decision in that moment that it didn't matter who she was. He hadn't asked to destroy the contract again. Instead, he was FaceTiming the pathetic and ill version of me, ready to get us both off.

"Mhm," I sighed, "Was just thinking about how I'd like to taste that rocket in your pocket."

When his eyes widened, I knew I had him fully to myself. "Speaking of tasting, Van....I need you to wet your index finger."

Placing my forefinger in my mouth, I made sure it was well coated. As I pulled it through my lips, a dribble of spit clung to my lip, traveling to the tip of my finger. "Oh, holy shit. What have I started?" Harry rasped out, "Rub it on your nipple."

When my hand hovered, he grew more specific, "My favorite one, Brains," and I spread the saliva around my left nip, shivering when the cool air made it stand up even higher, harder. It was stiffer than Harry's dick. Pebbled more tightly than a gravel-covered road.

Harry's hand moved to the outside of his underpants, adjusting himself, and I pounced on his movement, "Uh uh, Butterfly Boy. No touching there yet."

Withdrawing his hand, he saluted me instead, the laughter shining in his eyes. "But I think perhaps you should finger your own nips, Harry," I commanded, and he obeyed, running his hand over his torso to touch all four of his natural protrusions.

Although I attempted to withhold the giggle bubbling up inside me, I was unsuccessful. "Pick one, Butterfly Boy," I instructed, finding my voice deeper than usual. Perhaps from the virus I was fighting off? Oh hell no. I'm not going to lie to myself. This conversation, visuals included, was turning me on.

Together, we played with our nipples, eyes locked as arousal grew. When I threw my head back to gasp air, Harry coughed. "Okay, Brains. Time to strip those pants and that thong."