So this one actually started out as a stupid mistake. I had just bought this gorgeous new set of purple lingerie—delicate flowers embroidered on sheer fabric, suspenders, a thong that sat high on my hips, and a barely-there bra that was more see-through than anything else. It was meant to be a fun little surprise for someone else, but before I sent the pictures I wanted a second opinion. I quickly snapped a few mirror selfies, just enough to show how good it looked, and sent them off to my best friend, Laura.

Or so I thought.

I realized my mistake almost immediately. My stomach dropped as I saw the name on the screen: “Laura’s Hubby”

Fuck. Not Laura, Laura’s husband, Tom.

Panic set in. I could feel my face turning red as I imagined him opening the pictures. I even considered pretending it was some weird joke or that I was hacked, but before I could figure out what to do, my phone buzzed with a reply. I was worried it was Laura, asking me what the fuck I thought I was doing. But it wasn’t. It was from Tom.

He wrote, “I don’t think these were meant for me...”

Horrified, I was halfway through typing out an apology when he sent another message: “Honestly... I’ve thought about you like that before.”

I stopped. I should have felt disgusted, and part of me was. Laura is my friend. This was crossing so many lines. But at the same time, my brain couldn’t help but linger on his words. He had thought about me?

I shook my head, trying to deny the way that sentence made me feel, but the part of me that loved attention, that loved having my body admired, was awakening. My fingers hovered over the on-screen keyboard, my panic replaced by a new nervousness

“I’m sorry,” I texted him back, “That wasn’t meant for you.”

His response was almost immediate: “Yeah, I know. Don’t be sorry though. And don’t worry about it - I won’t say a word.”

That’s good, I thought, almost ready to put my phone away and forget it ever happened. But before I could stop them, my fingers were typing again, my heart racing.

“But you liked it, right?” I asked, telling myself it was just because I still wanted that second opinion; that Tom’s opinion was just as good as Laura’s…

“Are you kidding?” Tom replied. “You’re hot as fuck. Your body is incredible. And the way your nipples are teasing through the fabric of the bra…

I felt a rush of excitement between my legs and crossed them quickly, still wearing the tiny purple panties. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, I told myself.

“Tom, you can’t say shit like that! You’re married to my best friend.”

I waited for a few seconds, debating what I was about to do and telling myself it would be the worst possible idea in the world…

…and then I did it anyway; I took another picture. This one wasn’t as innocent. I adjusted the sheer bra so it barely covered me and let my fingers trace along my skin, making sure the suspenders and thong were on full display. I knew it would drive him crazy. And then I sent it.

Thirty seconds later, the reply came. “Holy shit.”

“You like it?” I asked, my fingers trembling from the excitement.

“Like it?” he texted back. “Fuck, Sarah. You’re killing me over here.”

I bit my lip, staring at his message, feeling that thrill of control.

“You know you can never fuck me, right?”

I hit send before I even had a chance to second-guess myself. The power trip was setting in. He could look all he wanted, fantasize, but that was it. I was untouchable, and the idea of him being driven crazy with desire made my heart race.

And my pussy wet.

“I know. But I can’t stop thinking about you now.”

“About what? These?”

I sent another picture, my heart racing, knowing that best friend's husband was now staring at my exposed tits, my bra pulled down, my nipples erect from the excitement.

“Holy shit Sarah, your tits. Fuck, I want to taste them.”

“You can’t.”

“I know. But I want to. Maybe even more knowing that I never will. Jesus.”

“That's a shame. That must be very frustrating for you.” I sent another photo, this time with my bra completely off, my tits out, my nipples pointed toward the camera, begging to be touched. My hand found its way into my transparent panties, lightly grazing my swollen clit. I snapped another photo and sent that too.

“Sarah. Please stop, this is killing me. I need to stroke my cock so badly and I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Laura would hear me…she’s asleep next to me right now.”

That was it. That was all I could take. I slid down my purple panties, the sheer fabric slipping easily over my thighs. My fingers found their way to my smooth pussy quickly but then moved slowly, teasing myself as I thought of Tom, lying in bed next to Laura, his cock throbbing, desperate to touch himself but unable

I moved my fingers faster, biting my lip to stifle a moan, and when I came, I came to the image of Tom, naked, on his knees, begging me for one taste of my pussy.

“I’m going to sleep now,” I typed. He texted me multiple times while I was rubbing my pussy but I had ignored them, getting off on the power. “You should too. Maybe I’ll text you again tomorrow. Would you like that?”

I closed my phone without waiting for a reply, knowing what his answer would be, knowing that I was leaving him with a hard cock and a head full of dirty thoughts. I smiled to myself, luxuriating in his frustration, knowing that I had left him desperate, knowing that he wanted more.

Knowing that he could never have it.

I closed my eyes and slept like a baby.