This story refers to this picture, posted to Twitter a while back. Are you kidding me?! I'M DEAD.
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“Did you just Tweet a picture of yourself in bed?”

“Uh, yeah. We’re Zaching.”

Mallory put her head down against the coffee table. “In bed?! Jesus, John.”

“You think I’m hot,” John announced.

“That picture is.”

“Admit it, Mal. You want a piece of this, and I’m all alone in a big comfy bed, just laying here waiting for you.”

“You and Karl.”

“He can sleep in the closet. He’s scared of bedbugs anyway.”

“John,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Come meet us in Florida.”

“No.”

“I’ll do another picture. Shirtless.”

“You already got plenty of teenage girls pregnant with the last one. Don’t go crazy.”

“And I’ll Tweet it at you, so everyone knows. I’ll say, ‘My girlfriend asked for a better photo, what do you guys think?’ and they’ll all send you hate Tweets.”

“I’m not coming to Florida.”

“Karl! Come here, I need another photo!”

“Don’t!”

“Say you want me. Say you’re going to fall asleep tonight thinking about that picture.”

Mallory was more than a little flustered. John was a very close friend, but as much as they’d flirted nothing had ever happened. She’d just called to give him a hard time, because that’s how they were. It only had a little bit to do with the actual moan that had slipped out when she saw the photo. It was safe, she thought, on the phone. But John was obviously riled up tonight too.

“If I go to bed thinking about that picture, I won’t be falling asleep,” she sniped.

“Malllllllllll,” he groaned, laughing. She heard him rolling over. “You never talk dirty to me when I’m home!”

“That’s because you live across the street and I don’t have a deadbolt.”

“Do it now. I’m far away, you’re safe.”

She went over it twice to make sure she’d heard right. There must have been a full moon or something because her mind came to the conclusion just as her mouth began to speak.

“Mmmm, I guess I could,” she purred. “That bed did look awfully soft.”

John made a noise like words caught in his throat.

“And that is a really, really sexy photo, John. I mean that.”

If the phone had a cord, she’d have been stroking it suggestively. As it was, she was on her couch with the TV muted, wearing a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top. No panties or bra - he’d like that. And her shorts were definitely little. Maybe that picture had short-circuited her brain.

“I wish you were here,” she said breathily. John made another exasperated noise and she heard him moving, getting up. Then banging on a door.

“Bro, can you go to Perry’s room?”

“What?” The voice echoed. Karl must have been in the bathroom.

“Dude, Mallory wants to have phone sex with me and I need you to leave.”

Mallory screamed and dropped her phone. Of course he would out-and-say it, he only had one setting: JOHN. No filter. Never in a million years would he think that doing the digital getdown might not be cleared for public broadcast.

“You’re shitting me.” There was a scuffling then Karl came on the line. “Mal?”

“Karl,” she said helplessly.

“What is going on? Was it that picture? I told him not to post it. Fucking rock star, he is. Probably sent a few Twihards into puberty.”

More scuffling, then a beep.

“Mal?” John again. “Tell Karl to leave.”

“I, uh....”

“Tell him to leave, or you’re gonna fly down here and throw him into the hallway.”

“I’m not coming to Florida!”

“Fine,” John grunted like he was probably elbowing Karl out of the way. “We can talk and Karl can listen to me jerk off. Not the first time.”

“For fuck’s sake!” the voice in the background called. John laughed and Mal heard a door slam. Creaking and moving of blankets meant John must have climbed into bed.

“Do you have an iPad?” he asked.

“No.”

“Cause this would be better if I could see you.”

“John! I’m not even doing anything!”

“Oh you are now, or I’m breaking your door down when we get home. What about Skype?”

“You’re crazy, Carlson.” She laughed, equal parts disbelief and nervousness.

“Hey Mal,” he said very seriously. “Shouldn’t have told me about the deadbolt.”

John was suddenly trying to keep this thing going. He’d long since given up hitting on Mallory in real life as she’d shut him down more times that Neuvirth in a practice shootout. It seemed forever ago, but was really just last season, that he’d drunkenly kissed her at a party.

“Remember that kiss?”

She laughed. “Very romantic. You were wasted and you weigh like six hundred pounds. It was either kiss you or be crushed to death.”

“I still remember.”

“John,” but her voice was weaker than before.

“Mal,” he teased gently. “Are you wearing those little shorts you always wear?”

“Yeah. Blue ones.”

“What else?”

She rolled her eyes, but said, “A white tank top.”

“Hmmm.”

“No bra.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

“I’m ordering you an iPad tonight, overnight delivery.”

“Maybe we should wait,” she suggested, sensing an exit. No way she’d do this tomorrow.

“Too late. I’m already... thinking about you,” he said in a low voice. “If you go. I’ll just make up what you’d say anyway. Especially now that I know what you’re wearing.”

Before she could answer, her phone beeped against her ear. She flipped open the text message - John had taken another picture, more crooked because he did it himself. As promised, he was shirtless.

“That’s not fair,” she hissed.

“Your turn.”

Mal couldn’t have said later why she did it, but she lay down and arranged her tank top so a sliver of her stomach and hip showed, plus a lot of leg below her tiny shorts. It took three tries before she got one that would work.

“Oh God,” John said seconds after she hit send. “Are you still laying down?”
“Mmmhhmmm,” she bit her lip, even nodding. Good Lord.

“Mal.” He said it quietly, almost like a question. This conversation had gone in a strange direction, but he wanted it. He wanted her even if the only way he could get it was from thousands of miles away. “Please.”

“I don’t even know....” She didn’t even know what to say.

“Touch yourself.” His voice was getting husky, a way she hadn’t heard it before. John was a big, powerful guy as much as he had a puppy dog personality. If he wanted to but that size to good use, Mallory assumed he could do some serious damage. For him to even say something like that made every nerve ending in her body tingle.

“John.” Her protest was weak.

His sigh was heavy with pleasure and Mal knew he was touching himself. She closed her eyes as if to shut off the vision. Those hands had hugged her and picked her up and once, during that kiss, hauled her into his lap and held fast. She had thought about him naked, of course. Now she couldn’t stop. Her own hand slipped inside her shorts.

“John,” the whisper broke as her fingers found their target.

“Fuck, Mal. I could do this just listening to you breathe.”

“Ohgod.”

John had fantasized about Mallory a thousand times, but he was in all those dreams. Never once did he picture her alone, thinking of him, turning her touch into his own. She would be on her back, knees spread, barely clothed on the same couch where he’d watched Game of Thrones a few nights before. Whatever happened after this, he’d never be able to sit there again without hearing the breath catch in her throat.

“Are you wet for me?” he asked.

“Yesssss.”

John rolled and reached for his bag, quickly finding the bottle of lotion he kept close for the cracked skin hockey gloves always caused. He filled his palm and smeared it over himself. He groaned as the last inch of his cock hardened, filling his hand. John stroked a tight fist around it, smoothly flicking his wrist.

“Baby,” he said, “I want you to feel me. Can you do what I tell you?”

“Uhhuh.”

“Push two fingers inside yourself.”

She squeaked as she did it, the penetration feeling incredible. But even so... “John, you’re so much bigger than this.”

“Hmmm,” he groaned, “you’ve thought about that before. Dirty girl. Use three fingers.”

Mal had to contort her body a little to do it, but three was more the size she would expect from John. Probably more than she’d ever known. The position put her thumb right where she wanted it too.

“Mmmgod, that feels so good,” she moaned. “I wish it were you.”

“I want you so bad,” he admitted too. “When I get home we’re going to break that couch, then every other flat surface in your house.”

She giggled helplessly. “I hope you’ve got some lotion.”

“I do.”

“Is it warm?”

“Yeah,” he hissed, stroking the lubricant quickly so it heated even more.

“Me too, John. You make me so hot.”

John was working his full length, rolling his hand over the head and sliding his dick between his fingers to vary the pressure. Still it was nothing like being inside a beautiful girl. Listening to Mallory pleasure herself was almost torture.

“I wish I could see you,” he repeated. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“I’ll have to throw these shorts away, they’re soaked.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned. “No, please. I love those shorts. Let me tear them off you then you can throw them away.”

“As long as you don’t wear a shirt. I meant it John, you’re incredible.” She paused for a moment, sighing hard as a wave of pleasure rolled through. “I almost came when I saw that picture.”

“Come for me now, I want to hear you.”

“Not without you.”

John chuckled. “I’m so close, baby. Tell me how you like it.”

Mal was past the point of no return. She could get herself off in minutes - probably seconds with the help of an image like John flexing in bed. Now she’d been fingering herself for nearly ten minutes and was whistling like a tea kettle.

“I like to touch my clit,” she blushed as she said it. “If you do that while you’re fucking me, I’ll come first every time.”

John’s heart thumped so hard he thought he might pass out. Mallory telling him how to get her off, as if there would be many times and she was in a hurry to get to them. It was one thing to tell a guy she wanted him. It’s another to give him the keys to her pleasure.

“I will, I promise. Do it for me now.”

Mal didn’t have to move, just put her thumb gently down on her slippery skin. She moaned instantly. It was too much to do both, so she slipped out her soaked fingers and used the first two to feel herself out.

“Fuck,” she said so softly he almost missed it.

“I want you,” he said again. John strained against his own orgasm enough to focus on her. “I want to bury myself in you and make you scream. I’ve wanted you for so long I can taste it. Do you want me, Mal?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“Yes!” Her body agreed, and gave up the preview performance. Mallory’s few hard strokes to her clit had quickly done the trick and she came, moaning, her back arched off the couch. She pressed the phone between her cheek and pillow so John wouldn’t miss a single breath. “Oh God. John.”

He nearly ripped his dick off listening to her call his name. He could feel her pussy clenching, the softness of her body in his hands as she rode it out, looking down at him with those eyes he knew so well. When she called his name, in real life, then he’d tell her how he felt. Maybe she already knew. But John wanted their first time to be as memorable, as sexy and brazen, as this had been.

“I’m going to come,” he said without thinking. “Talk to me.”

Maybe the words had been wrapped in her orgasm and so now came to her tongue though she’d never had reason to say them before. Out of context they would be embarrassing and crass. But right now they were pretty accurate for what a hot mess of a girl should tell her boyfriend as he jerked off with her body in mind.

“I want to feel you, John. I want to you inside me. I know you’re huge and it’s going to feel so fucking good to be underneath you, baby.

That was all it took. A groan tore from John’s throat as he blew his load into a handful of bedsheet, then turned to two short gasps as he spurted again and again. Finally he lay slumped over and still, panting into the phone.

“I’m coming over straight from the plane tomorrow night.”

“Good. Watching you play turns me on.”

“It does?” He almost managed to sit up.

“Always has,” she confessed.

“How come you never told me?”

She laughed weakly. “What? ‘Hey John, you looked really sexy out there tonight, all sweaty and breathing hard. Want to have sex?’”

“Uh, that would have worked.”

“John. It would work if I said, ‘Hey, it’s Tuesday, let’s get naked.’”

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” he pointed out.

Now she was laughing for real. “Well then, I have some ideas for how to spend it.”
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