#amonw1wd

[iioris]

[iioris]

Amonn phone sexxxxyy?

KINKTOBER Amon Walker

Day 5: Phone sex

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 844 word count, fem reader, masturbation, dirty talk, sexting, nudes

Following @amon389

That was the name he used here. You didn't even know why the algorithm put him on your feed in the first place. Probably because you've been searching for masked dudes porn so you checked, Thousands of people already followed him. He didn't tweet often but when he did it's most of them are thirsty replies and QRTs from girls calling him daddy like he'd ever bother to notice them. Stuff that made him feel untouchable and yet, you slid into his DMs as a joke.

[IDK why they call you daddy you look more like stepdad who shaved his head after the divorce. Not a single hairline between you and them brochacho]

It was reckless. The kind of thing you expected to rot unread forever but the typing dots blinked almost immediately you almost spit your drink. [ur funny] You didn't even know if it was an insult or a compliment, it made your chest squeezed tight anyway. Then minutes later, another notification. A photo without context. His dick fills the frame wicked in its detail. Not shaved smooth but trimmed down, the base dusted with dark stubble. It hangs heavy, straight and downward in his grip. One thick vein trailed the length like a map leading straight to the flushed a soft pink that contrasts with the rest of him.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard, every comeback you thought of sounding hollow. You'd clowned him but What the actual fuck is this?

[congrats you're a tripod. Still bald though.] How cheap, flimsy. You knew it the second you sent it. His reply came faster than you could brace yourself.

[rate it]

Your stomach flipped. You typed back quick, [in your dreams.]

The dots blinked again. Then another photo hit your screen—this time angled, his hand wrapped around the base, you see shadow carving down his abs, stubble on his groin. [dreams don't make me this hard]

[so what you just drop dick pics on all your followers??] you shot back, trying to keep some bite.

His answer was flat: [if ur smart u'll figure out why]

Your pulse kicked hard in your throat, the words blurring on your screen. You hate this man's guts. [you think you're slick huh?] you typed, thumb hesitating before hitting send.

[i don't think i know.]

You bit down a laugh, the sound sharper than it felt. He wasn't even trying to be charming. No emojis, dressed up to soften the blow. Just those clipped lines that landed harder than any sweet talk could've. There's no way he's flirting. You sat there staring at his last message, fingers twitching over your screen. You wanted to call him cocky, tell him he wasn't special but your thighs had pressed together at some point. The dots blinked again, message sliding in. [stop pretending u didn't save it]

[that's wild tf I'm saving a stranger's dick on my phone for] you typed fast. [you're projecting bald man.] Another image. His cock filled the screen, A bead of precum clung to the tip, caught in the low light of his room. Your thumbs stalled above the keyboard before you spat back, [you're disgusting.] Your throat went dry.

[then stop staring]

another

[tell me what ur wearing]

You clenched your jaw, typed: [why would i? so u can jack off to it?]

[already am]

You typed before you could think better: [tank top, shorts, no bra]

The dots blinked, then: [good girl]

You made a face at the screen. Cheesy. Cliché. Something guys with alpha male podcasts spat at women who didn't know better. You almost typed back some biting joke, thumbs twitching with a comeback ready to slice him down—but your hand had already busied between your thighs. Panties damp where you'd been squirming without noticing. Your skin burned hotter at the thought of him knowing. The screen filled with him in grainy motion, hand stroking slow up his cock, veins flexing with every pump. The sound of faint wet drag of his fist working himself, his breath low and steady behind the camera.

[show me] the text followed a second later. You told yourself you weren't going to. That it was too much, that he didn't deserve it after calling you good girl like some dollar-store dom. Your hand betrayed you anyway, tugging your shorts down just far enough to cup yourself properly, two fingers slipping over your clit until your breath hitched. You snapped a photo without thinking, stomach flipping as soon as it sent—fingers buried in your panties, wetness shining even in the low light.

The typing dots blinked immediately. [fuck]

Amon sent a new clip. You bite back the last feel of shame as loose syllables fall out of you. You imagine him listening, imagine the twitch in his throat, imagine whatever small, dark smile slides across his face when he hears it.

The screen goes black.

fuck's sake

You tap the screen. Nothing. The battery icon is dead—flat and empty You're left panting into the room and somewhere so is he.