Chapter 7

From my bed, with the dim glow of the bedside lamp and a slight chill prickling the hairs on my skin — yeah, because the razor had been retired for a few days — I was there, in my ratty old PJs and horniness through the roof. The chat with the gym guy was heating up big time.

He had that polite bad-boy vibe, you know? Dimpled chin, neatly trimmed beard, hair cut straight across the top, and a smile so damn fine it made you wanna sit on his face just to say thanks. I was trying to play it cool, but it was impossible already. My sneaky fingers, traitors as always, started sliding slow between my legs without asking permission.

“Fuck, Roberta!” Valentina grumbled in that voice like she’d been yanked out of the best nap.

“I wasn’t sleeping, girl. You were already soaked just from the first pics. Shut up and enjoy it.”

“I want some affection! But warn a girl first, damn it! Waking me up with a finger jamming in like that ain’t consensual sex.”

I let out a low chuckle and slid my fingers over my panties. They were wet like they’d been caught in a downpour.

“Damn, Roberta…” she moaned. “The guy’s not even naked yet and I’m drooling like a teething baby!”

“That dimpled chin got me, Valentina… He looks like he knows how to eat pussy good, you know?”

“He does… And check out that bulge! You saw it, right? He’s pulling that ‘I don’t wanna send nudes’ bullshit, but he’s already posing with a hard-on and his hand down his shorts! Just ask to see the cock, girl!”

“Hold up, I’m still playing coy. I told him I don’t really go for that kinda pic…”

“Fake! Hypocrite! You’re drooling more than me! Be honest, Roberta: you wanna see that dick more than a paid bill at the end of the month.”

I laughed, biting my lip. It was true. I wanted it. And guys who play coy like that before sending a nude? They’re packing, just waiting for the green light.

“Easy there, girl, the pic hasn’t even come through yet…”

“The bed’s gonna turn into a swamp, Roberta!”

I sighed, spreading my legs a bit wider, rubbing lightly over the fabric.

“He’s typing…”

“In the meantime, type me up, please.”

My phone pinged.

“IT’S HERE!” Valentina screamed, totally hysterical.

“Valentina, chill, I’m opening it…”

“OPEN IT, FUCK!”

I unlocked the phone and tapped the image. For a few seconds, silence. We both went quiet. Mesmerized.

“Roberta…” Valentina said, her voice all choked up. “You saw what I saw?”

“I saw…”

“It’s A BIG DICK, GIRL! A BIG DICK WITH THICK VEINS AND A PINK HEAD! I WANT IT! STICK YOUR FINGER IN, DO IT NOW!”

I burst out laughing. Valentina was throbbing like an ambulance siren during a blackout. My panties were already a hot compress stuck to me, like a wet postage stamp. No time to waste: I yanked the side over and shoved my hand in deep. It was full-on clit rubbing, no holding back. The whole shebang.

I was all in. But then he hit me with the classic:

“Now I wanna see you.”

Oh, God.

For anyone who’s never tried it, let me break it down: the hardest part of virtual sex for a woman ain’t cumming — it’s taking a pussy selfie. Nobody talks about it, but every chick who’s tried knows. Snapping a pic of your own ass is an art. But your pussy? That’s straight-up war.

“Roberta, you gonna send my pic?!”

“I am… I’m trying…”

“AT LEAST MAKEUP ME FIRST! Give me a blur, some color correction, soft lighting! Put me in warm tones, babe! I look like a bruised passion fruit in this white lamp light!”

I sighed, phone in hand, lying there like a flipped cockroach, hunting for an angle that didn’t show the little folds on my belly or Valentina’s lips all spread open, begging for some dignity.

“Hold on, that angle looks weird…”

“Weird?! Roberta, you made me look like I got run over by a lawnmower! Where’s the respect?”

“You’re beautiful, Valentina. Just not super photogenic.”

“Beautiful my ass! I’ve got one lip flopped to the left, the other shrunk up, I look like a confused empanada! And this light? Feels like you took the shot in the morgue!”

“It’s ‘cause the lamp’s yellow and your color came out… undefined.”

“Undefined?! I’m gray! Roberta, I don’t even look alive in here! Throw on a flash, use the flashlight, light me up like I’m Our Lady of the Forsaken Pussy!”

I kept trying. Squatting pose, lying down, leaning against the wall… The problem was, something always leaked through: a belly roll, a thread from the dirty sheet, lint in my navel. And the worst: pussy pics don’t take filters. Can’t slap on Paris or Oslo or shit. It all looks off.

“I think I got one,” I said, out of breath, hand shaking.

“Let me see… hmmm… okay… look, it’s honest. Not gorgeous, but I don’t look like I crawled out of the woods. Send it. But tell him this is just the beta version, alright? When we shave and catch some sun, you can take a 4K slow-mo upgrade.”

I sighed, laughing, and sent it.

“Sent.”

“Now pray he doesn’t screenshot and use it as a group chat pic on WhatsApp.”

“Shut up, Valentina!”

“Too late. If his cock looks as good in person as in the pic, girl, this pussy selfie was worth the embarrassment.”

The photo attempt took so long I lost track of time. I’d properly worshipped his cock by then, the vibe was sizzling, but I ghosted. Ten whole minutes just trying to snap one damn pussy pic that didn’t look like a dead fish in the yellow lamp light. Had he given up on me?

My phone buzzed. He’d seen it.

“Valentina, he said he loved it… called you a hot pussy!”

“Hmmm… I like this guy, Roberta. He’s got an eye for it, knows a vulva beauty when he sees one. Send him a heart… nah, better: send a droplet ‘cause I’m soaked with pride.”

But of course… the worst moment always comes. ALWAYS.

“Uh-oh… we got a problem.”

“What now, Roberta? Fingers tired? Vibrator out of batteries? I told you to get that model with the built-in hydroelectric plant, the nuclear one, to handle your fire!”

“Worse… he wants one on all fours.”

“Hahahaha! He wants to see Mr. Ass too! That’s a new one!”

“Guess so… wanna try?”

Look, there’s no dignified way to do this. No glamour. I looked like a zoo animal with ADHD. I tried snapping it from above, hand shaking. Then from below, but it looked like I was photographing my own stroke. Nothing came out right.

And of course, no mirror. Solution: prop the phone on the chair and set the timer.

Here goes. On all fours. In the cold. Panties around my ankles and the fan blowing air between the folds.

“Valentina, say cheese.”

“Tell that to Mr. Ass too, right? Hey, Mr. Ass! Ready for your debut, big guy? You’re hitting the pic today! Fix up, arch that back, show off that anal pride!”

“Shut up, Valentina! I’m ridiculous enough already!”

But I laughed. ‘Cause how could you not? The whole thing was just pathetic. Me on the bed, on all fours, timing the camera with the moment my ass popped just right and Valentina’s lips weren’t all stretched out.

On the third try, my damn knee slipped, I banged my head on the bed frame, and flopped over like a roasted chicken.

“OWWW, FUCK!”

“You dead?!” Valentina asked, worried.

“Nah… just lost a bit of dignity.”

“A bit? Girl, you’re ass-up, with your hole winking at the lamp and a purple forehead. Dignity bailed on the first snap!”

I finally nailed a pose that didn’t make me look like a freak. The pic turned out okay. At least in the gray area: between sexy and zoo exhibit. And I sent it.

Silence.

No reply. Not even viewed. The cock vanished. The guy evaporated.

“Roberta… did he block you?”

“No… but he ghosted… I think… I took too long to send.”

“Oh no… don’t tell me you posed like a camel on all fours for nothing?”

“I did. On all fours. In the cold. Alone. With Mr. Ass in the spotlight. And the guy gave me the silent treatment.”

“That’s unforgivable. Big dick and a coward. Typical. But don’t worry, Roberta. I still love you. And so does Mr. Ass.”

I flopped on my back, still naked, phone on my belly and defeat-face in the pillow.

“He’s gonna regret it.”

“Damn right. He missed out on a prize duo: Valentina and Ass Inc.