Playing Around the Water Ch. 03

After our intense encounter in the rain, we hadn't seen each other in person for some time: at first, she needed to go to her home country, and then, just one day before her return, my work sent me to another city for two weeks.

We continued to chat almost daily. During her visit home, it was just brief "How's everything" chats--she was after all, busy with her family; but then, when she returned to my city, and I went away, she had more time to spend texting. Between my work and her university, we still had plenty of time to continue to get to know each other--and to continue the teasing game.

With the same casualness as always, she described her little adventures. Like, "Today I was at the spring again, and remembered our frolicking, and became so horny I accidentally put three fingers deep into myself while toweling... I think the other girl noticed, but she didn't seem offended." Or, she might write, "Taking a bath right now."

"And?" I inquired. "Are you doing something with yourself?"

"I planned to!" she wrote. "But I was so horny all day that I came just while undressing. It happens sometimes. And it was a big one, too, I almost fainted. So, I am just relaxing now."

Another time, she went further with this kind of dialog. We were just finished discussing a park in a city I was in (no Spring, sadly!) when she suddenly typed, "BTW, I recently started to like four fingers in me. Still feels almost impossible and strange, but so much joy."

"And you are telling me now, because?" I typed back, as usual, half-joking, half-hoping.

"Because I am doing it right now, yes," she responded with wide grinning emoji.

"And you are turned on more by talking to me at this moment, right?"

"Of course! I even learned to do it with my left hand, so I can still use a keyboard. Sorry for slow typing, though!"

I responded with a very happy smiling emoji, unsure how to continue this dialog. But she took care of that herself: "Actually, I might send a naughty photo to you if you wish?"

"I most definitely do!"

But the photo she sent wasn't particularly naughty--or even indecent. It was just a selfie of a girl (a very pretty one, I admit!) in a large t-shirt, sitting behind the table. Her left hand is under the table, and the posture looks a bit weird, but other than that, everything looks normal.

"Hmm, but is it naughty?" I asked, confused but anticipating the answer.

"It is! The t-shirt is my only piece of clothing, and it is up to my waist. My legs are spread very wide and pressed against the wall. Four fingers are deep inside me. I am close to coming. And right before taking the photo, I spotted a thin marker pen on my table and stuck it into my ass. Is that naughty enough for you?"

"When you put it like that, it is!" I responded.

"Hooray! Am I allowed to come now?" she asked, suddenly playing the obedient girl which she for sure is not.

"Hmmm... let me think," I played. "OK, you are!"

For a minute after that, I observed "typing..." notification, trying to imagine what she might type, and then my messenger window was filled with a long string of just the letter "a" spanning a few lines.

"I just held the button through the whole orgasm," she explained in a minute. "so you kinda heard me screaming."

"But did you? I mean, did you scream for real?"

"Ugh," she sent a blushing shy emoji, "I am afraid I did. Sister is slightly irritated now. I think she was watching some dumb TV show. Well, was that naughty enough for you?"

"Totally!" I agreed emphatically, "Send me more!" And then I quickly added, not wanting to seem too greedy or pushy, "When you have time and you're in the mood, of course!"

"I will," she promised with a few more emojis.

And she did as she promised! She sent pictures almost every day since that evening--still in the same style of "No indecent body parts visible, but something indecent definitely happens." I think I understood why she chose this way--besides her natural love for teasing. It probably just felt safer for her that way--she didn't exactly mistrust me, but still, to send your naked pics to somebody, where they can be saved, stolen, published--it felt too much at that moment. As for me, I was happy with any idea that worked for her, and how could I not be?

The very next evening she replayed the scene from the previous one, and sent me a new photo: this time, the camera of her phone looked under the table. The hem of her t-shirt covered the pubic area, but the picture was sexy as hell: her naked legs were widespread, knees bent, and her left hand, judging by the position, did something deep and intense under the hem of the t-shirt.

"A candle in the pussy, and three fingers, small finger fully in the ass," she confirmed and even sent me the picture of the candle she used: it was something festive, thick and twisted, with spiral edge and golden sparkles, and it was very visibly wet for maybe 20 centimeters, starting from the wide bottom end.

"I like how your wetness looks on it," I wrote, and at that moment, the compliment didn't seem weird at all.

"I like it myself," she responded quickly. "This time of the cycle, it is so thick and lavish," and followed with the picture of two spread fingers with strings of fluid between them, and the next one--of her pretty face with same fingers deep in her mouth.

And a photo of her evening masturbation session was sent almost every night. But there were also others.

She photographed herself in her apartment's hall, fully clothed, when she had just returned from university--and followed with pictures of a growing pile of clothes on the floor: coat, then sweater on top of it, then jeans, undershirt, and on the last photo her panties and bra were on top of the pile, her naked legs standing beside it and visible up to almost top of her thighs.

Later that night: photo from the hall again, she is standing there clothed again, but with open coat and unzipped jeans; the jeans are soggy at the crotch and thighs.

"Remember we discussed this fantasy?" she commented. (I did!) "After a nice walk and a lot of tea in the cafe, I peed myself deliberately in the empty yard in front of my building entrance. And it turned me on so much, I ran to my fifth floor with a hand in my panties and orgasmed on my floor before entering the apartment."

"You are crazy!"

"I am... when I have a partner to play with."

I felt elated the entire evening after this confession.

On Saturday (free day, no university!), she sent me a long, slow series of pictures from her bathroom. In the first one, a stool stands by the edge of the bath (where she is apparently laying, but I can't see her), and on that stool, a bunch of things arranged of various shapes and sizes: hairbrush, several spoons, three cucumbers, potato masher, a box of markers, empty wine bottle... It took her almost two hours to send me follow-up photos with each of the items used, wet from her and the water, one by one. Well, in fact, not all of them was one by one: according to the order of photos, after some warming-up with smaller and more usual things like hairbrush and cucumber, she inserted (and then removed and photographed) all of ten markers at once, then four large spoons, then potato masher. She ended with a wine bottle, and after a good ten-minute pause, declared the arrival of a powerful orgasm and testified it with the photo of the wet bottle. Of course, as she did it all in the bath, the entire bottle was wet, but I thought I could tell where her slightly opaque juices covered the glass.

I boldly wrote, in slight disbelief, "Did you really insert it bottom-first?"

"I did!" she confirmed. "Not at once and not from the first attempt, but I was on heat! It looked incredible inside," she teased, and I shied from requesting her to show how exactly it looked.

On Saturday, the photo was simple, but with a twist: just, again, naked legs, photographed by somebody probably half-lying in a low chair. The legs were tensely straight, as if during the orgasm, and a pile of clothes (including panties) laid on the floor in disarray, as if thrown down in a hurry. The twist was: there were two pairs of naked legs of orgasming girls, sitting across from each other.

"Sister was in the mood, played together," was all she wrote about it.

Then the work week started, and she became brazen. She sent me a photo from university: in a large half-empty amphitheater lecture hall, she sat behind the last desk. In the picture, I saw what she had seen: the desk itself and the auditorium in front of it, with the professor writing some formula on a blackboard and the backs of several disinterested students. And also, I saw what happened under the desk: her unbuttoned jeans and the left hand deep inside them.

"Cucumber inside, playing with it," she explained briefly and without emojis--she also tried to follow the lecture.

"Do you plan to orgasm right there?" I wrote cautiously.

"Don't know, just touching it. Don't distract me!"

("From which of the activities," I wondered but didn't write.)

"Yeah, orgasmed in the end," a more relaxed answer came in half an hour, "had to imitate a severe coughing fit to hide the other sounds!" (It was before COVID, my poor reader! Today, some people would probably rather imitate orgasm to hide a coughing fit sometimes.)

"It was suddenly intense," she continued, "usually I come moderately in such situations, if at all." ("Usually? How frequently?" I wondered, but again left the thought to myself.) And she finished with several kissing emojis: "I think it because I wrote to you, it made me more excited!" as if making up for the stiffness of her previous messages.

In a couple of days, she sent the photo from the same desk again--but now, she was in a knee-high, wide skirt, and the picture showed her panties taken down to below the knees.

"Do you have a cucumber inside today?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Ugh, you sure you won't get wet spots on the part of the skirt you sit on?" I asked, half-teasingly, half with genuine care: I liked to play with her and appreciated her courage, but I didn't want any problems or embarrassment for her.

"I am not sitting on it," she wrote, and to confirm, sent me a photo from another angle. Apparently, she spread the skirt around the seat of her chair and sat on that university chair with her naked body. I also noticed that her left hand was now behind her, under the skirt.

"Isn't it unhygienic?" I asked (ever-caring, you see!), "And also, what are you doing with your hand?"

"Don't worry, I used sanitizing tissues thoroughly," she answered calmly, almost formally. "As for your other question, I am putting my spare pen into my ass."

She didn't orgasm this time, she told me later--sometimes she just wanted to sit (teehee) on the edge, so she just sat there with the pen and cucumber, with panties around her ankles, and did her best to follow the lecture. I received one more photo: an empty chair with a big wet spot and a medium-sized cucumber on it.

The next day, the photos were sent from a small, curtained dressing room of a big clothing shop. Without comments (she probably was busy with the clothes), she sent me several with a few minutes gap between them. The first one had a dressing room stool with all of her day clothes on it (bra and panties on top of the pile), and a full-length mirror, which showed her naked body, but only a side of it: a shoulder, a side of one boob, a thigh, a leg. Next, she posed in various clothes she tried: fitting jeans (and nothing else, but with her back to the mirror), a t-shirt going just a centimeter lower than her pussy (I think I even caught a glimpse of her unruly pubic hair beneath a t-shirt), thin white semi-transparent shirt (again, going lower than her thighs, but with nipples and pubes visible as dark shadows), and so on.

"OK, any ideas what interesting thing I can do next?" she wrote eventually. "Can't masturbate; the shop is too small and silent. And as luck would have it, no interesting things in my backpack, to walk away with something inside me."

After a small hesitation, I suggested: "Have you ever tried to put your panties inside yourself? Some girls like it."

"Oh," was all she sent. And then, a picture: she stood in front of the mirror in her own blouse. It covered her mons, but beneath it, the small part of white panties was hanging between her legs. "I like it," she commented, "I'll go home with them inside. Good idea, thanks!"

This public-but-not-public play in a shop's dressing room somehow felt--for both of us--closest to our Spring experiences. She talked about repeating it but acknowledged it didn't seem right to go to the dressing rooms just to play, and she didn't need more clothes at the time--she bought most of what she tried and was pretty happy with it.

So, instead, for the next series, she chose a bathroom of some fancy cafe. It was a large private room, with a toilet, a sink, a few coathooks, and a mirror above the sink so that the girl could've fixed her makeup or adjusted her stockings in privacy.

In the first photo of the series, she stood with her back to the mirror, holding a phone near her shoulder and photographing the mirror. It probably took her a few tries to get the photo right; it looked very well-staged. Near the mirror on the hook, all of her clothes were hanging again (with the panties on top of everything to remove any doubt). I could see in the mirror her back and just the beginning of her naked buttocks.

"Like it?" she inquired.

"A lot!" I confirmed, "Have something in mind?"

"A lot!" she echoed and sent the next picture.

Almost everything was the same, but now she held her other hand raised to the shoulder too, and in that one, she had a deodorant stick with its cap on and a thick marker. I guessed the next photo and was right: the same posture, but the hand with deodorant and marker were invisible. Several more photos followed. Despite her promise of "a lot" being on her mind, she either bluffed or just got carried away with the first idea she tried because all of the photos weren't that different.

As far as I could guess, she just inserted deodorant in her vagina and marker in her ass and masturbated with them, trying to continue photographing and sending in the process. It was like a very slow private video. Her posture changed slightly; the phone went slightly up and down, the elbow of her "working" hand showed sometimes... I'd even call it a bit monotonous, but my imagination built the rest. The last photo was different--it could've been pornographic were it not so blurry: probably, she did a step forward while orgasming, and the reflection caught her to mid-thigh, but at the same time, she was moving, and I could only guess by the contours what I see: her bent forward with legs spread slightly, one hand covering the crotch area, dark line of the marker sticking out between fingers, other hand raised above, still photographing.

"Ugh, sorry for that," she sent later, with a "blushing shy" emoji. "I just wanted to send how my face looks during orgasm, but it overtook me, and that's what happened. Don't tell anybody, OK?"

She added a few smiling emojis, but I understood what she really said--even with her face invisible and the body blurry, it was the first of her full-body photos I had, and she was insecure about it.

"Never!" I confirmed, "I can even delete it if you want... Though I really like it, somehow."

"You can keep it then."

The last several days of my trip were pictureless, "due to natural reasons," as she stated with mock prudishness. Instead, we got back to just talk to each other, which, between my job, her university, and new ways to do teasing photos, we didn't have much for the last week. It was late spring, her university lectures were ended, and she had half a month to prepare for her final test before graduation. It is called a "defense of the diploma" in our universities: you write a scientific work, then do a presentation and answer questions in front of the commission. It meant she was a bit nervous finishing all the work but also had a more relaxed overall schedule and could talk to me.

We managed to catch up on some usual topics like recent books quickly. Also, in our usual teasing-mocking-roundabout way, we managed to clarify our relationship status. We agreed neither of us was romantically into each other. It was maybe a beginning of good friendship, and definitely hell of a fun thing to play, but we didn't look to becoming partners--and even, probably (though it was left unspoken) to have sex. It might sound weird after all I've been describing, but I am a bit old-fashioned in this regard, and sex is just no good unless you deeply care about your partner. Other games, though, can be happily played!

With that question out of the way, we teased each other about the game. She joked that I'd probably be now bored at the Spring; there was much less freedom for action there. And with all we were through, wouldn't it be too little now, all those few-second glimpses? I assured her I was still enthusiastic about seeing her but acknowledged I was half afraid she'll start to show less (as her photos did, however awesome they were). She reassured me it was not the case and promised that she had a lot of new and exciting ideas and didn't want to lose her appreciative audience.

"Sending these photos was fun, though," she added. "Maybe I'll manage to send something on your last day there. It should be ummm... physically possible then!"

And she managed, in the final hours of my trip. I was already at the airport and wasn't waiting for anything from her. It was late night already, when, without any comments, the notification came. But it wasn't a chat notification. It was a video-call request! I rushed to find someplace where my screen would be invisible to others and to insert my headphones, worried she'd give up. The phone continued to vibrate with the call, and, with a beating heart, I answered.

Without any preliminaries, the show started. In the same "nothing indecent visible" style again, but it was quite a show indeed! I could see the widely spread thighs of a girl lying on her back. The picture went almost up to the pussy (in some moves, even pubes showed, but never her lips). Her hand appeared in a frame, tugging an edge of panties--apparently, from inside herself, with a long deep moan, the panties were fully taken out and laid between her legs.

Then the same hand appeared in a frame with an eggplant, which looked quite thick and long, maybe eight or ten centimeters in the widest place, and good thirty-five centimeters in length. Slowly it was pointed towards the edge of the frame; slowly, it touched her behind the edge. The hand started to rock it, and roll it, and push it, and at first, it moved nowhere, but then she probably became wetter and spread her lips with another hand (a few fingers appeared for a moment), and then it started to go further, and further, and further, and almost impossibly far, and then slowly out again, now wet.

It reappeared in the frame in its full length, and the mark of wetness covered it almost entirely, maybe 25-28 centimeters. Then it went in again, out again. Slowly, then quicker. Wet sounds, smacking, and moaning filled my ears. It continued only for a few minutes, and then the call ended. I assumed something was wrong with the connection, or she had a second thought about sharing her masturbation session and that that was it for today.

But in a few seconds, a picture came which showed just a pretty face of a beautiful girl in the middle of the intense orgasm, eyes shut, mouth open, head thrown back. And a minute after that, another picture: her whole naked body. She was lying on her side now, in a fetal position, hugging her knees raised to her chest. Neither nipples nor pussy were visible, but the tip of an eggplant that still peeked out behind her very much was.