Chapter Text
As top flyer of the Hawkins Tigers cheer squad, Chrissy Cunningham’s life really was all that and a bag of chips.
Finally able to curate items she loved as a senior, everything in Chrissy's bedroom screamed pink. From the soft rose duvet cover on her bed up to the hot pink tube TV she’d gotten last June for her birthday, Chrissy Cunningham liked things in perfect order. Well, her kind of perfect order. Super trendy, always top brand (at least for Indiana), and totally matchy-matchy with her usual style.
On game days, she spearheaded the cheer squad’s spirit wear, making sure everyone wore the team colors and matching outfits, a fierce unit of school spirit. Chrissy's binder selection for her classes was carefully coordinated to match her neon animal print booksox. Her closet at home was methodically arranged, with outfits grouped by season, color, and preference. Even her boyfriend, the ever-doting captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver, wore matching sweatshirts with her to the team’s post-game ragers. Each precious square of her life fit neatly into its box, and it all made Chrissy very, very happy.
The only problem was that something had wiggled its way into the deepest, most primitive pink groove of her brain. A teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy problem. No real biggie in, like, the whole universe. But for Chrissy, the issue was becoming a “biggie” for her every time she caught herself zoning out while Jason was, well, you know, doing his thing under the covers.
No matter what they tried, Chrissy Cunningham couldn’t come!
When Chrissy overheard from Jessica and Erica that girls could, like, feel something other than lukewarm acceptance, she’d pulled Jason aside late one night and explained to him that the big O had been a big NO. She had months of pent-up tension boiling underneath the faint remnants of cheer body glitter. Blue Balls was a guy thing, fine, but maybe Coquelicot Clit was the girl version, right?
While Jason had no problem coming himself (on t-shirts, on her sheets, on her, whatever), he'd been deeply affected by this revelation, listening intently to Chrissy's calm rant and offering to try anything she wanted for her needs and her pleasure.
He was sweet! Like, so nice for a guy with better navigation on a basketball court than a girl’s pussy.
Taking strong initiative, Jason had done some rudimentary research(she didn't ask how! she didn't want to know what part of the web he watched naked and moaning girls!) and attempted distinct patterns and pressure when he sucked, licked, kissed, and fluttered her clit like his college scholarship depended on it. There was genuine effort being dedicated to all aspects of giving her head. But most of the time she'd directed him like a stage actor with phrases like, “a little to the left”, “more feeling, more passion,” “stay there, gimme more of that”, etc. His eagerness to follow her instructions did leave her feeling a little intoxicated.
But alas to no avail. Her orgasm eluded their every trick to get it to cooperate and arrive on time. Like she needed. Like she planned! Ugh!
And then, something even worse happened.
Chrissy turned the TV to a low volume, the muted sounds of a SpongeBob episode a distant hum as she and Jason made out under the rose-covered duvet, a trail of hickies blooming over his collarbone. It was standard procedure to have something on the television as an excuse in case her mom or dad knocked. They went through their typical kiss-touch-lick-fuck routine, the familiar motions leading to him tenderly lapping at her aching pussy.
Jason peeked up expectantly over her mound, diligently working on her nub, and clearly hoped to find her blissed out in ecstasy. He really did have the most endurance of any man she met. His tongue froze, stuck to her like he’d licked an icicle. She’d upset Jason when he found her counting the cracks in the paint on the ceiling, nibbling her cheek to bide the time. By the time she’d noticed his gaze on her face, those big baby blues drooped like a lost Basset Hound, looking so pathetic it broke her heart.
SpongeBob, in his horrid, squeaky voice, piped up his own commentary on their situation from the depths of the all-knowing TV. “Hmm…there's two things in this house that won't work!”
The stupid cartoon sponge mocked her, but he was right! Her vagina didn't work the way it should! For the amount of hours she spent splayed out, there should have been more than fizzled sparks and miserable ache by now. Chrissy read enough romance books— Ravished, The Duke and I, Worth Any Price —to know that feminine fireworks should be at the summation of all their labor. They tried every kind of alphabet, name spelling, puckering, sucking, and finger techniques. All it got her was a swollen pussy and a weird sensation that felt more like rugburn than any explosion.
She feared she may never know what it felt like…
Something deep in the codex of being a teenage girl possessed her after that disappointing revelation. All the muscles tensed in her thighs and belly, following the script of what she’d expected from her romance novels. Her hips twitched up and down, bumping into his nose and catching him off-guard for just a second, before he reacted with faster ministrations. This was her time to showcase her middle school experience in the drama club, she supposed. Chrissy’s mouth fell open and her hand barely covered up a loud, operatic moan. And just like a flower left without so much as a drop of water in a vase, she wilted into the mattress.
“I knew I could get you there, Chriss.” Jason had wiped his sopping mouth, stars sparkling in his eyes again. “Just needed time.”
“Right,” she breathed. “Yeah, guess so.”
And then, every time he’d give her head after that, she’d go through the motions: Wait a decent amount of minutes before reenacting the same wiggle, press, moan, rinse, repeat that made Jason proud of his “discovery”. All the while, her ultimate pleasure retreated deeper and deeper to an unreachable place, no closer than where she started. Even touching herself had some intrigue, but never gave her the full relief. It was just a terrible, painful tease. A broken joke. Chrissy Cunningham couldn’t come.
That is…until last night.
She’d been messaging her best friend on AIM about their English homework. Ivonne always found the best forums with members who actually enjoy analyzing Charles Dickens and Harper Lee’s novels and unknowingly help them cheat their way (just a little!) to at least an B-. It was pretty late for a school night, but she clicked the link to the cozy forum and waited for it to load.
With only her desk lamp lit, her bedroom faded into the obscurity of night. All her stuffed teddies hibernated on the hope chest next to her, left weary on top of her grammy’s crocheted blanket in her favorite pink and white checkerboard design. The white screen dimmed to a level less blinding when the dark green color of the forum fully loaded.
She carefully scrolled through the top threads page, hunting for any subject that seemed relevant to her paper’s topic, “Charles Dickens and Industrialization.” The first few covered more about rules and expectations for members; she blew past those threads. Another member, FrggyThrt33, posed a question about Dickens’ commentary on family structure and dynamics, which was more analytical, but still not helpful. Yawn, next—
Chrissy kept reading, scrolling, and waiting for the page to load a bit more. Despite the monotony, she didn’t actually mind doing the same thing over and over. It was a little punishing, but she was cheating, so it felt balanced enough for her. She deserved a little suffering for it. Especially since Jason would never condone what her and Ivonne do.
A happy little chime dinged from the speaker, signaling she had another IM from Ivonne. Chrissy moved to click on the AIM icon on the toolbar, but nothing changed. She clicked again, this time watching the clock for a full two minutes to wait. Computers tested her patience, being so despairingly slow all the time. At least in cheer, the team could regroup and change pace in an instant.
She sighed, noticing the icon had grayed out. Apparently, the instant messaging channel had frozen and who knew when it would pop back up at this rate.
Without warning, a small flashing window popped up on the center of her screen. Little stars and flashing symbols decorated the edge of the pop-up, outline the simple message in the middle of the black background. The pop-up box asked, “Have you ever talked to a cyberbot? Want to now?”
This hardly seemed relevant to a website based on classic literature. She tried to x out of it. No luck. She tried to ctrl-alt-delete that stupid thing, but the task manager showed nothing to end besides her AOL login page. Strange…
Chrissy hovered over the no-option, but the box didn’t highlight. The only real option she had was to click yes. She pouted.
This felt awful—she liked having options, a choice to be made. She liked choosing and getting exactly what she wanted. And right now, she wanted to finish her homework and bitch to Ivonne, not talk to some rando cyberbot or wrestle with a computer virus. Shuffling her mouse all over the screen like a snowglobe didn’t help, but it did vent some of her irritation.
Rolling her eyes, seeing that the only way out was through, she clicked yes and waited impatiently for the hourglass replacing her custom mouse cursor to stop flipping over. She very much preferred the cute pixelated butterfly that floated over the screen on her command. It had pretty purple wings!
The pixels of sand fell in clumps of two or three before weighing down the base again, triggering the hourglass to turnover. Chrissy started counting the flips when she realized it would be longer than just a quick minute to load. There were a lot of sand clumps to count and a lot of flips to remember. Overcome by dizziness and the sharp stabs of a migraine, she watched the hypnotic hourglass vanish, her self-counter halting at one hundred six and a half. A low hum vibrated beneath her slippers.
The screen brightened, dimmed, and brightened again when the new web page opened. The bar where the website url should be was left completely blank. It was a foreboding sign for her and her computer. Below, the page was practically empty. She totally could have designed a better web presentation than this. A title in an outlined, boxy font told her to “CHOOSE ONE” and offered three rectangle shaped boxes with a single letter in each: B, E, and D.
Chrissy squirmed in her seat. Whatever this was, someone somewhere was probably getting off on wreaking havoc on her life. Though she didn’t know what the choices meant, it was nice to have some control over her situation again. With a soft hmph, she went with her gut, clicked E and hoped that the middle option would free her from whatever trap this was.
Blackness engulfed the whole screen. Her eye twitched. Fueled by fury, her manicured hand moved her mouse, clicking blindly every so often. The only change at first was her warped reflection in the screen's curved glass. Her expression annoyed her, her eyes so wide and captive she looked dumbfounded, or really just dumb. The more she stared into the empty, unchanging black, the more she was convinced maybe she was.
Her invisible cursor clicked nothing about a dozen times in a row, the button straining under her silent rage. Though the cursor wasn’t showing, the location of each click sent a small ripple through the black sea of the screen. Any of her effort was like a drop in the bucket of this cyber security breach.
Her ‘rents were gonna be so disappointed to find out she was hacked or scammed or whatever. The computer in her room was a major win on her part that took weeks of careful debate about the usefulness of the internet and potential for research, even though all she wanted was to IM her friends and Jason and maybe print out some travel photos for her vision board. This would prove them right. She wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility. Ugh, so not fair!
Following a dozen more fury-filled clicks, white text filled the screen.
That tickles…
She jumped back against her chair, startled. The text cursor blinked slowly, daring her to touch the mouse or keyboard again.
She hit ESC once. Then, twice. Nothing changed.
“Oh fuck this.”
Chrissy crawled under the desk on her hands and knees, careless with the coverage of her miniskirt. The gentle curve of her ass must have slipped out with all the excitement, since she could feel a rush of cold air ghost the skin above her thighs where her underwear cut into.She forcefully held down the power button on her computer tower to punish its disobedience. Tech class taught her that a sometimes forced reboot could help during cyber attacks.
The light blinked rapidly several times and then remained solid. Chrissy had no idea what that meant.
Back in her chair, she scooted forward and noticed a little sliver of white blinking at the top of the screen, a text cursor hanging around with no text. The indicator grew into larger, bright pixels, spreading out into the shape of a boxy bat with its wings flapping across the corners of the screen. When she tried to shake the mouse and recover the screensaver, the bat became her mouse cursor.
“Ugh, gross.”
Chrissy slumped in the chair. So much for turning the computer off.
Letters appeared one by one to form a sentence.
Greetings, fair maiden.
The indicator blinked at the end of the line ominously. Was E a nerd with too much free time on his hands or some kind of pre-coded messaging program within a virus?
She chewed on her lip, fiddling with the light ruffle of her miniskirt. Maybe she could find an invisible x in the top corner with her mouse and exit out of this full screen weirdness. Chrissy guided the flapping bat to where she thought her escape would be.
More words appeared below the first line.
You don’t wanna do that.
An icy chill ran down her spine, making her knees knock together. That could be read as a threat, right? She took her hand off the mouse entirely and tucked a fist under her chin. The screen went totally black. What the fuck.
Good girl.
A different shiver graced her spine, and she wiggled her toes against the plushy insides of her slippers.The cursor moved to the black abyss below it, blank, and enticed Chrissy with a really stupid idea. The dumbest one she's ever had, probably. But what could she possibly lose?
Her fingers clacked at the keys one by one.
Who are you?
You should know since you chose. I'm E.
Are you real?
You’ll see I'm as real as it gets.
That wasn't the answer she was looking for. She wanted to know if there's someone actually typing these lame responses or just some weird program spooling these out. She ran her tongue over the bump where her teeth overlapped with a vengeance. Whoever this E was frustrating the hell out of her.
So what now?
I tell you how pretty you are and you tell me to fuck off.
Well, at least “cyberbot” E was logical, if not a little too straightforward. If she was talking to him(she assumed it was a “he”) in person, she might have found this approach disarming. It was rare for a guy to know and predict aloud exactly how she’d react before she did so. Usually, their pick up lines wouldn't leave her time to respond the way she wanted without interruption.
You’re not what I’d expect from a chatbot.
Why’s that?
You sound too real. Not like a string of if/then statements. And you’re a little |
The text indicator hung at the middle of her thought. She wasn’t sure how to describe this interaction. Even though it was just a few sentences over the computer, nothing in person, Chrissy did feel a little scared, and maybe (more secretly) found the danger to be slightly thrilling. It wasn’t everyday you had to outsmart a geek’s cyberbot virus. Before she could finish the sentence, E had erased the screen and started to type his own fill-in-the-blank answer.
Mean and scary?
Chrissy deferred to his conclusion with pinched, thin brows, feeling agitated he found the need to speak for her.
Yeah.
You’re a little mean and scary though right?
Typical boy behavior. Chrissy was a cheerleader for Hawkins High—so now it's a crime to be popular? Popular didn’t mean she was “mean and scary.” She rarely abused her athletic privileges with teachers, and being selective about who she associated with in the halls hardly made her a highschool bully.
Chrissy knew where things belonged, and sometimes that meant people, too. Whatever, sue her for not ignoring nature’s obvious separation. Seems like E has no problem pigeon-holing her right off the bat.
Chrissy licked her lips, trying to soothe the cracked skin peeling up under the thick layer of lip gloss. Her fingers returned to the keyboard with a short-tempered quip..
What do you want from me?
To figure out what girls like you really want.
The back of Chrissy's neck prickled with the cold air. She froze, her fingers stiffening over the keys of the keyboard, while her gaze drifted to the darkened bedroom window, making sure it wasn't open and letting in the winter night wind. The temperature of the room seemed to have dropped ten degrees at least. Super Weird, capital W.
The way he phrased the answer didn't seem like an attempt at blackmail, or something like that. It could be simply a weird, personal poll this guy wanted to investigate and didn’t care that he put girls under duress to respond. If she answered his question, there was a chance that this whole computer held hostage situation would go away.
She typed the first thing that came to mind when you asked any stranger that what they really want:
I want a million dollars.
No. Try again princess.
Chrissy huffed like this was the worst thing that’s happened to her (because someone not listening to her was the worst!). She tried to think of something else to make this bot-virus-creep satisfied. But her head was full of only bratty answers.
I want my computer back.
You chose me for a reason. Because I can help you.
The screen faded again to black and the original question reappeared quickly, impatiently, if it was possible for a computer virus to be impatient. Chrissy had serious doubts about this whole thing. So this guy was trying to say picking B or D would have landed her with a different conversation partner and a differen question set? Only E could help her get what she wanted…
Okay—if he was gonna give her some make-believe story, she could too! Chrissy Cunningham never mastered a kickass kick-up scorpion for the Tigers’ championship game. Ha! Two can play at his bullshit game.
She read and reread the question like the lyrics to her favorite Spice Girls song, echoing in the haunted house that was becoming her skull.
Tell me. What do you really want?
Want was sooo subjective. What did Chrissy Cunningham really want? That question had plagued her mind for weeks as she struggled to balance all of her plans for senior year. The real infection took root and dug deeper every night with Jason in his Jeep, in his bedroom, in Andy’s parents’ garage, in her own bed…. She really, really wanted to—
Despite her previous cheap responses, the right answer was right at the tips of her frustrated fingers. It was the same unsolvable problem—a constant, gnawing sexual frustration—she’d given up on fixing. Chrissy Cunningham really wanted–no, needed— to come.
But she couldn't type that. What if this was a prank from someone at school? A nobody nerd who'd hacked Ivonne and was mad she’d never given him the time of day in algebra II! He made her open the link that led to this pop up under the guise of her friend’s AIM and was trying to embarrass the popular, very nice cheerleader for not noticing him. It was possible…plausible, even! Why did it take her this long to think of that!?
She scoffed aloud.
Whoever this is I'm not dumb. I wont fall for whatever trap this is.
No trap. Just here to serve.
A fizzy feeling fought to bubble its way to her chest. A meek murmur of naughty-Chrissy prodded her brain. Maybe the nerd liked to be told what to do, she could oblige. He could carry her books, hold her butterfly hairclips while she fixed her hair, and buy her a new purse. After all, she made it this far into whatever freak-made plan this was and what had he really accomplished. Not much.
The tables would be turned in her favor, she just had to throw him off his guard. Or prove it was all programmed dialogue with some unexpected input to stump it. Either way, Chrissy had a plan now.
I'll answer your question, if you answer mine.
Are you always this demanding?
Then, the letters backspaced one at a time, catching her attention since it had usually wiped the whole message at once.
I like that about you. Go on, ask me.
She grinned like Alice in Wonderland’s cat. He was already doing what she asked. Perfect. What an obedient nerd, overwhelmed by her undivided attention. Her finger twirled the loose curls of her ponytail.
Why do you think you can help me?
Because I was made to please you .
Oh God. She’d heard those romantic lines before. Highschool guys were all the same, delivering the same lines passed down from senior to freshmen. He probably thought she’d imagine some low, raspy voice that would tickle all the way from her eardrum to her hips. Instead, she tried to picture a whiny, awkwardly high voice to counter the effect.
Chrissy had righteous annoyance on her side now.
How can you like me? You're either a cyberbot or some kind of closet perv
Why not both?
Shoot, guess he wouldn’t be so easy to crack. And a perverted cyberbot? This was the worst parody of the Matrix she could possibly imagine. Chrissy might have to try something else entirely. She cracked her knuckles in a prayer pose and continued her volley.
What help do you normally offer?
That’s another question, but because I’m a generous guy I’ll allow it.
I’ve helped a lot of people out with issues they felt stuck in. Lost causes.
You called me princess before. But how do you know if I’d even like being called that?
Maybe I don’t want your help if you can’t treat me right.
There. She passed the ball and was waiting for the lay-up. This was all a power play and who was dictating what. Chrissy was very familiar with that kind of give and take, at home and at school. Once he gave in to her, it would be hard to stop in the future.
It was similar to when her and Jason got into little spats about parties or driving or which movies to watch. Whoever gave in first admitted defeat, and it was that much easier the next time to “compromise” sooner. And Chrissy liked to win.
The text indicator blinked for a long while, Chrissy lost track of time, but knew too much had passed compared to E’s usual response time. And then….movement.
I can be customized if you give me some info. Be more specific with my help.
Ha! Yes! The ball was swirling around the rim of the net. Chrissy smirked, letting her fingers rub slowly against each key as she typed, savoring her headway.
Like what?
ASN for starters. Tell me what you want to be called.
18/F/Crystal
Chrissy laughed. At cheer sleepovers, the late-night conversations would obviously devolve into messier topics. Junior year, they’d gone around their sleepover bag circle and revealed what kind of stripper name they'd choose as their alterego.
Ivonne, as unoriginal as ever, went with Candy because of Aaron Carter’s mega hit. She claimed that song would be her lead-in lyrics before her “real” performance. Chrissy had seen Ivonne dance outside of cheer choreography, and despite loving her best friend, um, seduction was not her forte.
Chrissy had chosen Crystal after some thought and told the girls that it would be because all the guys would see right through her clothes crystal-clear, which inevitably led to an eruption of pillow-muffled giggles. And maybe, after names were claimed, they might have given some demonstrations of their moves with their pjs on. But they did a cheerleader blood oath, so Chrissy would never divulge that to Jason, or anyone else ever, for any nefarious reason(except maybe during a very long BJ Chrissy successfully expedited).
Crystal. I like it. It suits you.
Thanks. I guess. Do you have a name?
Just E but you could call me something new if it helps.
The name Eddie came to mind first, as did the totally buff guy the name belonged to. She hadn’t thought about him in a long while. They'd sort of met at summer camp two years ago, and he’d been one of the counselors for the younger age group. Before Jason, that summer she'd had a major crush on him and his tanned chest whenever they had to swim in the lake. They hadn't even talked, Chrissy doubted he even knew she existed. He'd been older and cooler and…
Ooh. She felt a flutter of nerves spill over. She zipped up her velvety tracksuit jacket all the way to the top to keep herself from falling apart. E would be Eddie now, regardless of his real identity, for funsies.
How about Eddie?
OK Crystal call me Eddie.
Her new strategy was working almost too well now with at least two points on her side of the scoreboard. She had straight-up renamed him from E to a dude she thought had hot biceps and cyberdick was clueless. Chrissy needed to look into how she could make a career out of her special talents….maybe somewhere in upper leadership for retail management.
But first! Back to the blank screen and the nerd eating out of the palm of her hand, she pursed her lips confidently.
What now?
Now I know what you really want Crystal. I think you were too shy to type it.
I am NOT shy.
No?
Nooo I’m an open book.
Chrissy was a freaking cheerleader, not a sad little wallflower or pushover. She gets shit done loud and proud. Even when she’s faking it, she’s not shy about her moans and whatever.
I think I can open you up a little more.
Her eyes rolled so far back she saw last year’s silver eye shadow. What a horny lame-o. Ivonne seriously owed her a shopping spree at the outlets or a major makeover for this account hack. She was going to make his loser brain malfunction with her next message.
Oh yeah? So what do I want loverboy?
You really want to cum, dontcha?
Her mouth gaped in a way that would have made Jason’s research models blush. The words she usually used so effortlessly to deflect and disarm now fled, escaping her mind as fast as any fugitive on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, leaving her brain empty and defenseless. She squeezed her thighs together tight, unsure of how to tamper the familiar pulsing there. Not now.
There was no way he could know that. No one knew that….except Jason. OH, she was gonna kill him. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her jaw set as she typed furiously.
J what the hell
Who's J?
Jason dont fuck w me. I know its you this isn't funny
Crystal I don't think it's funny. I take a lady’s cum shortage very serious.
Stop fucking around and get out of my cpu Jason.
This is Eddie .
Her anger grew hot, so hot Nelly would be the one taking off his clothes in herre . She was gonna have to put her boyfriend in his place. After months of faking it, Chrissy was about to get very REAL very fast.
No this is my sketch bf who instead of being a grownup faked a chatbot to burn me and my LACK of orgasms
When the screen wiped her long message, she kept the insults going, typing before he could interject. She needed to add another jab in there in case he didn’t get how pissed she was yet. Then, she’d grab her cellphone and really tell him what she thought about him acting out.
Oh! BTW you make a horrible whiny tea kettle sound when you come. Its a major turnoff. So there.
… Ah so Jason is the loser who can’t make you cum.
No matter what keys she pressed nothing appeared on screen. He was making her wait it out, with nothing else to do but reread his last sentence. She didn’t think her boyfriend would ever admit he was the reason she couldn’t get there. But there was a part of her that bloomed inside wanting to blame him for everything. He made her want a release after all the times they’ve made out, heavy-petted, and had generic, sleep-inducing sex. It wasn’t fair he got to feel that liberating completion while she remained perpetually pent-up. Very Unsatisfied was the phrase that came to mind.
It’ll be much better with me.
Another tiny pixelated bat flew across the sentence and fled off-screen to a cave far, far away from Chrissy’s bedroom. She hoped anyway. This couldn’t be Jason. It wasn’t him.
None of this was making any sense! Her head hurt and she wanted to lie down, face under her pink fuzzy pillow, and melt into her satiny sheets. But she’d be lying if the part of her that was unfulfilled and frustrated wasn’t a little curious about what this stranger meant. Chrissy was just a girl who needed to come after months of endless foreplay. Desperation filled that little box of her brain marked RELEASE and Chrissy couldn’t fit what actually belonged in there by herself, clearly unsuccessful with any solo or duet attempts for an orgasm.
What do you want then “Eddie”
I'm gonna make you cum.
Direct. He was very direct with her. She could appreciate that. Her head went dizzy with the possibilities.
And how could you possibly do that?
I'll tell you how and when you can cum. Would you like that?
Reading that made her feel dirty. And, regrettably, instantly horny. Her face flushed with heat, a deep crimson surely seeping into the apples of her cheeks. Everyone said she had the perfect cheekbones for a nice blush. Chrissy was actually considering this offer, despite all the warning signs.
More distracting to her was the heavy heat that pooled below, making her feel needy and slick beneath the thin fabric of her skirt.
She appreciated Jason's enthusiastic attempts with his tongue, mouth, and fingers, but maybe she needed a different approach entirely. Jason was nice—a mostly respectful and simple boyfriend. He had his own way of instigating things between them that was very attentive and sweet.
Sure, nice was… nice. But maybe Chrissy’s mind needed more firm direction. Something she wouldn’t know she needed until she tried it. This could be an experiment with the potential to better their relationship if it worked out. Her mind could be a little messed up and this could fix it!
Chrissy nodded solemnly, folding her mouth to wet her lips.
Yeah. Yes I’d like that
Good. You’re hotter when you’re honest.
I still don't get how this would work
I think you do. You're already getting wet.
It annoyed her that he knew that without any way to be sure. She swirled her hips in a circle against the seat as a treat for herself. A ripple of hot pleasure helped her chillax against the soft cushion of the chair, another flurry of tingles heading to where they needed to be.
See? It’s working already. Call em like I see em.
She looked all around her room, still cloaked in the night with only the dim lamplight to illuminate the furnitures’ shadowy silhouettes. With the last rational brain cell she had, she shuffled in her poofy slippers to her bedroom door and locked it behind her. There wasn’t anyone in the room with her, it would be impossible to message her from inside her room and not know. But how could he have known she was already enjoying this more than a normal girl should?
Britney, posed in her jumpsuit over her desk area, smiled supportively with her hands on her hips and a suggestive kink in her knees. Spears got it. This was a good thing for Chrissy.
Keys clacked with her return, and another question was posed to her mysterious Eddie.
Where are you?
Do you like being slutty Crystal? Do you touch yourself?
He ignored her question completely and rather than it making her mad, she felt bad. She shouldn’t have asked him that; Chrissy tried to right her mistake. Her thighs fell open a hair more, and she did her best to not think about her sticky center calling her. The zipper tab at her throat magnetized to her fingers, gravity tempting them to fall down all the way. She settled for halfway, exposing the frilly push-up bra lifting her humble cup size.
Chrissy reflected on the two things he wanted to know, shrugged, and answered honestly. It’s the least she could do.
Idk. Yeah sometimes.
I think you do. But I think you're afraid your boyfriend won't like how much you need it. I won't judge you. I’d like to see you writhe and crying out for me.
He tries to make me come. But I can't. Not even by myself.
Golden boy is holding you back.
How?
He makes you afraid to really experience pleasure. What you might turn into when you’ve had a taste of the real stuff.
Chrissy tried to think about this point, but it was hard. Everything she’d read and heard made her want to orgasm so bad, but the unknown of how it could change things was a concern. Maybe it struck deeper than she realized. What if coming made her into a stupid slut? Someone that couldn’t control herself anymore? Would Jason still love her, still see her as his beautiful, respectable girlfriend? Maybe Chrissy was secretly worried about all of this deep down, Eddie could be right.
What do you think Crystal?
Oh that’s it! Eddie was so smart to have them exchange names!
Chrissy could have the best of both worlds. This wasn’t “Chrissy” talking to Eddie and trying to come. In this chat, she was Crystal. Crystal could try whatever he recommended and chat with him, and Chrissy wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. They could be separate entities altogether, where Crystal would give in to all the naughtier cyber things and be turned off when the computer shut off. Easy!
She unzipped her Juicy Couture trackjacket all the way down without a second thought, the rest of her bare skin and toned tummy revealed. It wasn’t meant to be zipped up this late, all by herself, in her nice, pink room. There wasn’t any need for her jacket really.
I think you might be right Eddie. You can help me with my problem.
Good. Lets focus on you.
Ok Im not sure what to do honestly
That's okay. Its why I'm here. You need me to tell you what to do.
Yeah I do. I need you Eddie.
A singular pulse throbbed right at her bud, and she bent forward reflexively at a serious angle over the chair. A rush of happy chemicals flooded her brain when she gave over the reins of control. She noted for future reference that she might need to dictate less with Jason, let him handle her on his own from now on. Hands flooded over her tits, they felt so heavy and desperate to be touched like a spell that only broke when she rubbed inside the cushion of her bra. When Eddie typed back, her hands retreated back to the keyboard.
You always needed me. Its why you can’t come with your boyfriend. Right?
Yea im ready for you
Watch this. Put your fingers over your clit. See how much better it feels when you do this for me.
She did as she was told, spreading her legs to either side of the chair, and shifted down a smidge for better access under her skirt. There was no reason to take it off, it was so short it barely got in the way and she liked the way it tickled the top of her thighs. Her hand swiped at the outside of the thin cotton of her underwear and felt how damp her arousal had made the cotton already. Somehow, just talking made her this wet.
She slipped under the lacy elastic band and felt around the top of her folds. Her clit was already swelling by the time she found that specific sweet spot she liked to rub.
It wasn't anything different from how she'd normally start things off. And yet….
I want you to rub side to side slowly.
And yet, her clit throbbed with every glide like she'd never done this right before. All the muscles in her lower abdomen tightened and loosened over and over again in a pleasant rhythm. Chrissy moved nice and slow, focusing on every sensation where her finger touched like there was a microscope on her nerve endings. Eddie’s confidence must have had this effect on her. It was such a tease to brush this slowly, she’d need more eventually. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to hold back.
With her other hand, she responded as best she could.
Im doing it
Good. You like listening to me?
She nodded, as she kept her hand moving at the same slow pace. Her bud throbbed and grew from the gentle friction. She realized she hadn’t typed her answer and rectified that when a strong clench made her shiver.
Yea
Keep going nice and slow.
Her middle finger made small elongated circles from left to right, rolling over that delicious ridge only she knew about from her own self-exploration. She made sure she listened to Eddie, keeping the motion even-paced and deliberate, despite the burgeoning urge to quicken her pace or plunge a finger deep inside. Her arousal had become so urgent, Chrissy could feel it drip out and into the back of her underwear.
Eddie can I
The keyboard froze and he took over.
Keep going for me Crystal. Don't worry about anything.
ok
She switched directions of her circling at least, the change making her hike her hips up for a new angle. The speed didn’t change, but maybe she could work a better angle to get closer sooner. The lace of her underwear over her wrist and her thighs looked so inviting she thought Eddie might find them irresistible; he would have let her do anything she wanted to feel good.
Chrissy worked herself up to the maximum under these strict working conditions. Her finger wanted to rebel and flick, or any other naughty thing it could think of to increase this lovely desire. From the stiff arch in her back, her nipples, hard and perfectly suckable, poked over the edge of bra. Her jacket hung low at the crook of her elbows, the soft velvety material rubbing against her side. All of these sensations flooded her brain.
She started to type again in hopes he’d command something to move this forward. She really wanted to come.
Wore a lacy pair of panties 4u. Do u like them?
No.
A deep frown ruined her pretty face.
I want them on the floor.
She smiled, overjoyed she misunderstood what he meant. He wanted more of her, not less. That was better than good.
Looking over her shoulder at the locked door, she peeled off the lacy pink panties and left them under the desk. She adjusted herself over the chair, trying to avoid getting the seat too wet. Being so bare under her mini gave her flashes of the latest scandals for Paris Hilton. She’d never understood why she didn’t just wear something underneath, paparazzi always followed her waiting for a good, profitable slip-up, but Chrissy was starting to get Paris now.
Being without panties was so freeing. Everyone should feel so horny and free. Who cares who saw?
Theyre off. for u
Good girl. Back to work.
Chrissy spread her legs, posting her feet up on top of the seat this time. Her position gave a perfect view of her pussy to the big monitor, exposing everything like he was watching from inside the screen. He needed to see how good she’d be for him, how great of a listener she was, because she wants to come.
Free from any elastic, her fingers worked at her clit with less restriction, flowing beyond the nub and over to the sensitive areas that surrounded it. Still, Chrissy rubbed slowly with half-lidded eyes, trying to remember what he told her and not to deviate. Her other hand took some initiative to pinch the plump, neglected nipples. She really wanted to come.
The screen brightened, and she realized Eddie must have sent a new message. Without hesitation, Chrissy lifted her neck and kept her middle digit pressing diligently on her clit.
You have the prettiest pussy Crystal. Show it off.
See! Her pussy was the prettiest. Chrissy slunk back in her chair, raising her hips. Her fingers delicately touched her lips, caressing the edges for Eddie’s benefit. Little jolts of pleasure sank deeper in her belly the more she explored there, eventually separating them to expose her hole. Her fingers were soaked by how wet she’d gotten.
Normally she’d be embarrassed with the mess she was making over her desk chair, but that was daylight’s problem tomorrow. Right now, she needed to show off her pussy and maintain control. The more she teased the rim of her hole, the more she wanted to give in and pump her finger inside.
The text indicator blinked above. Eddie wanted a status report.
Im so wet eddie Iv never been this wet evr
Typing was getting hard with one hand so dedicated to her pussy. She didn’t think Eddie would mind. He’d know what she needed. He made her so wet.
I know Crystal. I told you. I'm gonna make you cum.
She gushed with that, which was unsurprising for her at this point. Crystal liked being told things by Eddie, because he knew what she needed. He’d make her cum.
Did you want to go inside? See how wet you really are?
Pleease wanna finger my pssy 4 u
Hmm.
She whined in the dark of her room, desperate to show him more. Give him everything she could offer. Her finger hovered over her entrance, ready to take the plunge at his word.
Go on. Fill yourself up for me.
Chrissy didn’t waste any time. She crammed her finger as far as it would go and swirled around her arousal. God, a geyser she’d never experienced before drenched her finger. SO freaking wet from his words, it was amazing how right he was. She needed him to make her cum.
She pumped a few times to a pleasant stretch of her walls and rub against the underside of her clit where it felt absurdly addicting. He said to fill herself up, so the next few pumps she pressed as deep as she could until she reached the base of her finger. The walls of her pussy spasmed with the change in pace, and this time her eyes rolled back reflexively without attitude, just dumb pleasure. Wetness overflowed the chasm of her hole, falling around her finger and onto the chair cushion easily.
You need more. Add another finger Crystal.
Chrissy never liked using more than one finger when she masturbated by herself, thinking Jason might notice if she stretched herself out too much on accident. But Crystal needed two fingers. Eddie knew she needed more to feel her best.
She twisted two fingers together and pushed them inside with curiosity. The width gave her a very nice full feeling without trying too hard. It felt right to be so full.
She fucked her fingers so hard that they started to bend and hook into the front wall of her pussy, bumping into a spot that made her see glittering stars and solar flares melting over her mind’s eye. Chrissy let out an involuntary moan in her state of enlightenment.
I want you to go back to your clit and work it.
Chrissy blinked. She wanted to stay inside, all nice and warm and wet. Picture Eddie moving her hand…or better yet, imagine that his big—
wanna stay here pls
Girls like you need to listen. Take out your fingers.
Reluctant for the first time since she’s started this cyberchat affair, Chrissy did as she was asked, immediately missing the fullness and pressure that vacated her extremely needy hole. It hurt. She hurt to be so empty. To be full was to feel good.
ok theyr out
Suck them. You should have listened the first time. Don’t think just do
That was something she’d never wanted to do…taste herself. It wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for Jason to swallow and cover his chin or his nose or the ends of his calloused fingers. Not meant for her own mouth to taste. But Eddie told her not to think. She should have listened the first time.
Her fingertips were already wrinkly from being completely coated in her slick for so long. Her mouth popped open like a fish’s, upturned and desperate for water. They slid past her glossy lips and over her tongue with ease. The cherry of her gloss mixed with the tang of her wetness, and she sucked each finger one at a time, making sure not to miss a drop of what he asked. She was rewarded with a pounding pressure knocking at her clit like the big bad wolf ready to blow the whole house down.
She’d never second guess him again.
they taste soogood wish u could taste
The last message had so many words. It was getting so tiring to type. To think even. The only thing in her head was Eddie’s mystical touch on her pussy and wanting more and more of him, like an endless buffet of his clitoral wisdom. Her pussy was fucking starved.
my pussy wants u
Go back to your clit and work it. Faster now.
No one’s fingers moved faster than hers. No one. She’d be dumb to do anything else. Ribbons of her wetness spooled out of her pretty pink pussy, and she kept working on her clit like her life depended on it. All of this familiar pressure building underneath, ready to burst at the seams of her pussy lips.
You wanna know what I’d do to you?
Pls yes
You would have came already obviously.
no duh obvi
My tongue would have licked you to the center of your tootsie pop.
Her hips bucked on their own accord to the image of his skilled tongue plunging inside and licking alongside every little ridge of pleasure. His hands would hold her body down, keeping her in place to be his perfect plaything. His tongue pressed and wiggled against her special spot, making her gush and explode and—tootsie pop? The word finally dripped down from her pour-over brain and made her brow shoot up in disbelief. She hoped she tasted like her lip gloss, like she was the ripest, juiciest cherry for Eddie, not like a chewie tootsie roll center.
Chrissy typed back.
ur a freak
You're the one fingering yourself for a freak. I think you like freaks
Her clit bulged against her fingers pulsing quickly side to side, up and down, diagonal, every direction her mind could still think of. Ecstasy was so close it felt like the universe had kissed her lips and gently probed its tongue along the edge. She just had to let it in. There was no reason to fight it, resistance hurt too much. Her head would hurt. She didn’t like when her head hurt. Being a good girl felt so much better.
Eddie wanted her to respond with her free hand, despite the other working so fast her wrist ached and burned with every movement.
I like freaks
You want me to finger you myself
yea I do! pls
I'd pump you so full, so deep you'd forget what it's like to not have my fingers in you
Yesss
Suck on your bitchy clit til you scream
Yyss
Her pussy was on fire. Literal and spiritual fire. There was no longer her pussy, her clit, and her hand. They were all one and engulfed in the hottest flames that seared each other in the most pleasurable heat Crystal had ever felt. More than the senior bonfire at the lake with half a bottle of Svedka downed.
Eddie wanted her. He wanted her to forget what it was like not to have his fingers inside and make her scream his name. Only his name. She started to chant Eddie under her breath while the flames blazed catastrophic under her hips. It tasted a lot like ash and menthol and dark chocolate along her tongue.
Wish I was there? I can be there
eddie want u inside Im so close
If you cum, I'll be closer to being with you.
Life was drowning in her pussy. The pressure against her dam was going to break. He told her it would break. Her body listened only to him. The rush of her orgasm was a crack away from bursting the dam that held it all in. Then, all that water would be free to flood wherever it wanted. She’d become whatever he wanted. She really wanted to cum.
wanna cum sooobad
I know baby just focus on me
i am
Only me. Circle your clit to the thought of me
only u feels so good
cum so I can fuck you
want u to fuck mee
You'll never fuck anyone else
just u im yours
That's right and you don't like to think about anyone else but me
no i dont. i don like to think
Crystal baby, are you getting too dumb to cum
just wanna cum
Cum for me now
She was a woman possessed. Her fingers ripped against her clit, so ferocious it made her muscles quiver inside. Her pussy trembled in her presence, vibrating so hard she thought her cells might disappear entirely. This was better than any romance novel Chrissy had read. Eddie helped her peer behind the curtain and see what was hiding inside her all along.
Tipped over the barbed edge, a guttural moan escaped her lips, a sound so primal it would have sent her parents scrambling for a priest and an exorcism. She came so hard, she thought time and space were just made-up things to keep girls from feeling this good all the time. Her lower half twitched in place, muscles squeezing every last ounce of pleasure from her climax, as she continued to rub beyond the point of overstimulation.
Dew drops of thoughts collected in different grooves of her brain, but all her attention was on the gushing flow of her orgasm and Eddie waiting for her to respond. Body roll after body roll of dominoing pleasure swept her away. Thoughts were hard. Typing harder.
Crystal needed. She needed Eddie. She had needed him to cum.
Her soaked finger found the keyboard and the most recognizable letters for him.
omg OMG
I know
She panted in the chair like a thoroughbred horse suffering heat, nostrils flaring and body quivering with the aftershocks of what felt like a lifetime of edging. Even the knuckles of her finger ached as she typed one letter at a time, using all her focus to remember what she was trying to say. Now that she was set free, there was only one more thing she needed to do…..
again
Again?
cum again
Are you sure you can handle it?
pls cum again
Hmm…
She waited, staring at the screen, while her mouse cursor flipped up and down again as the silly hourglass. It was harder to count the grains of sand this time. She didn’t really understand why the glass had sand in it anymore; it wasn’t like it was the beach. Crystal was being a good girl, not touching herself yet and waiting. Waiting and watching the flips over and over again. Mmmmm.
Her desk buzzed, snatching her focus away. The butterfly charm looped to the top corner of her cell fluttered against the wood with the intense vibration, and a name flashed on the tiny outer screen of her Motorola. Jase<3 texted her, and a little burst of bad! made her tummy hurt worse than her head. Was she supposed to answer him? Not now , she shook her head, tossing the phone onto her bed and turning her head back to face the screen. Eddie takes care of her now.
I think you can feel even better this time.
But you have to listen carefully. When you cum this time, it’ll be different.
ill listen promise
Don’t look at your phone. Dont respond to anything else. If you listen, you’ll be able to be with me Crystal.
i wanna b with u
Good, keep one of your hands on the mouse the whole time. Ready?
Eddie gave her good directions. Her brain felt nice and swirly like cotton candy. She clicked where he wanted. And she fingered what he wanted. Everything the second time was super dreamy, like she was preparing for a long, important trip and Eddie made sure she did everything right….
He promised she’d be with him, feel him inside her if she hit the right buttons and made sure to cum to seal the deal. Seal the deal. The phrase felt silly along her tongue. She wasn’t sure if this would let him out of her computer, or if she’d get sucked into the electricity buzzing under her desk. All her cells falling into delicious disarray as vibrating energy mashing together with his, the ultimate pleasure with what these big computers could offer.
Eddie told her to cum and click the empty black space above the bat, and there was nothing to resist, cumming was breathing for a girl like her. She screamed his name this time, a violent shock circulating from her clit through her body and out her hand to the mouse.
There was total darkness. Then, a wild feed of numbers speeding above her, around her, through her in an infinite repetition. And then, a voice that made her body zap back together in an instant, obedience drooling from her lips…..
“Knew you'd be my good girl. Did you know good girls get fucked?”