Textual Confusion

1. Who dis?

CHAPTER ONE

WHO DIS?

Asher stared uncomprehendingly at his phone, squinting at the screen. It was so bright that it was nearly blinding, illuminating his face and showing off his cowlicked hair and the shiny dampness near his chin where he must have been drooling in his sleep.

Thankfully, he was alone, so no one was around to see it, or the way his brow scrunched in confusion as he reread the texts he’d received over and over again. No matter how many times he looked over the messages, however, he couldn’t make sense of them.

Probably because his brain was still scrambled with sleep from being woken up at 1:00 in the morning by the incessant buzzing of his phone.

Still, that didn’t explain why an unknown number was messaging him at such an ungodly hour.

Unknown

I need you tomorrow.

Same time and place as last week.

He probably should have just ignored the texts. He’s pretty sure that’s what normal people did when they got messages from someone they didn’t know.

But the tone seemed awfully urgent. What if one of his friends was trying to get ahold of him? (Unlikely since he’d only retained a handful of the friends he’d made in college, and was only in consistent contact with two of them, but still. ) He had just changed his phone number last week. Maybe he’d saved someone’s number wrong.

None of that explained why he chose to respond in the way he did, however, which is why Asher only had himself to blame for what happened next.

Who dis?

Did I fuck you stupid last time? You know.

Asher nearly dropped his phone in shock, staring at the screen for an entirely different reason now.

Sure, he was still extremely confused, but holy shit. Those abs. The dusky nipples and beefy arms. And Asher’s greatest weakness of all: the tattoos. Ignoring the distinct lack of a face in the picture, it was as if Asher’s dream man had come to life, and Asher couldn’t have stopped the visceral reaction he had to the stranger’s selfie if he’d tried.

He didn’t think he’d ever gone from flaccid to rock hard in such a short period of time. (At least not since middle school.) And even though the photo cut off before he could catch a glimpse of Mystery Man’s cock – even clothed as it was – Asher couldn’t help but picture it in his head.

He imagined it was thick and as well-maintained as the rest of the man. It’d look cute when it was soft, curled up against his thigh, but when it was hard… fuck, it’d turn purple and bulbous – angry looking, even – as veins bulged under the skin.

Asher could picture it vividly.

He desperately wished he could see it for real, feel it for real. And like his hand had a mind of its own, he found himself pressing against his aching erection before he could stop the urge. It wasn’t until he’d actually slipped his hand into his underwear and wrapped his fingers around his cock that it hit him he was using a complete stranger’s picture to get himself off.

The realization caused a rush of shame to slam into him. An embarrassed flush crept up Asher’s neck, and he removed his hand from his underwear, breathing in and out slowly through his nose until his erection began to wither.

Clearly, it’d been way too long since he’d gotten any.

Mortified at his own actions, Asher hesitantly returned his attention to the stranger’s picture, carefully examining it. Surely if he looked at it long enough, a flaw would stick out to him and he could delete the string of texts and go back to bed.

Nope.

Mr. Unknown Number was just as attractive as he’d been two minutes ago.

Not knowing what else to do, Asher regrettably swiped away from his conversation with Mystery Man and pulled up one of his favorite contacts. Sasha would know what to do.

Asher hurriedly shot off a text.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long for a response.

I have a problem. Something happened.

Sasha

Are you okay?

What is it?

Is there a body to get rid of? Should I bring bleach? Shovels? A hack saw?

Should I call Danny? You know he won’t narc and he’s strong enough to lug a body around.

Wow, thanks for letting me know you low-key think I’m capable of murder. Please don’t call Danny. It’s nothing like that. Promise.

Maybe don’t lead with something so ominous sounding then. And your ex is a dick. I wouldn’t blame you one iota if you had a run in with Trent and your hand happened to slip a few times. While holding a knife.

Trent’s an asshole, but he hasn’t bothered me since I changed my number.

So an entire week then?

If it’s not Trent, then what’s wrong?

I just got this.

Damn.

That is a problem. The guy didn’t even have the decency to send you a proper dick pic.

No! The problem is I don’t know this person.

Oh.

So tell him he has the wrong number.

But he’s hot…

So tell him he has the wrong number, but you’re still down to fuck.

Still not seeing the problem.

What if he’s straight? Or in a relationship? He could think he sent that pic to his girlfriend for all I know…

So ask him. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

Masterful advice, Coach.

Next time, I’ll just seek a motivation poster out for guidance…

Good. Do that next time. It’s ass o’clock in the morning, and we both work the early shift tomorrow.

You’re right. Sorry, Sasha. Love you.

Love you too. Now go back to sleep. Or sext this guy. Whatever. Either way, I better get all the gory details tomorrow!

Asher sighed.

Just tell him that he has the wrong number, but you’re still interested.

Sasha made it sound so easy.

Like Mystery Man wasn’t most likely straight and thought he was sending those texts to a woman. There was a good chance the guy would freak if he knew he’d sent a not-quite-nude to a gay man instead.

Asher’s phone buzzed with a series of incoming texts. All from Mr. Unknown Number, who had apparently grown impatient waiting for a reply. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Asher hesitantly tapped on the messages.

Unknown

Apparently, I didn’t fuck you hard enough if you think you can get away with ignoring me.

Are you really that desperate to be punished?

Or are you going to be a good slut for Daddy now?

Asher squeaked, his face warming as he read the dirty texts. Apparently, this guy had a daddy kink. Not something Asher had personally explored before, but he couldn’t deny that his cock was once again straining against his underwear.

What now?

Should he let the man know he had the wrong number, like Sasha had suggested? Or… Asher barely dared to think it… should he play along?

Was it that morally abhorrent? It’s not like the guy would ever find out he was talking to a man.

Asher was ashamed to admit it was the ache between his legs that ultimately made the decision for him.

I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll be good now.

Pretty words.

But perhaps this arrangement isn’t working out, after all.

Arrangement? What arrangement? Asher furrowed his brow, puzzled.

Was it possible Mr. Unknown Number thought he was talking to a sex worker? Like a hooker or some kind of escort?

But why would a man as attractive as this one need that kind of service? Asher pushed the thought aside, sure he misunderstood, and that the man was just referring to whatever relationship he had with the person he thought he was texting.

He hesitated only a moment before typing his response.

Don’t say that.

What can I do to make it up to you?

I don’t know. What can you do?

Fuck.

Was he really doing this? Asher took a deep breath in through his nose, steeling himself before responding. He panicked internally as he waited for a reply, picking nervously at his lip when he saw Mystery Man start typing, stop, start again, and then stop again.

Had he somehow misread the situation and crossed a line with his response?

When the man finally sent a reply back, it became apparent that he most certainly had not .

I could suck you off.

Do you really think you deserve my cock in your mouth after so rudely ignoring me?

I’d make it good for you. Take you in inch by inch until I could feel you in the back of my throat.

Truth be told, Asher wasn’t completely sure what he was doing. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, and he’d experimented in college here and there before settling into a committed relationship with his ex that had lasted far longer than it should have.

Somehow during that time, however, he’d never had phone sex. It was better than Asher thought it would be, and he was shocked by the complete lack of embarrassment he felt as filth spewed from the fingers of one hand while the other slowly slid down to wrap around his underwear-clad cock.

What if it doesn’t fit?

You’d make it fit. You’d fuck my face until I was gagging on your cock. Until I could barely breathe and drool dripped down my chin and tears leaked from my eyes.

Would you let me cum down your throat?

You could do whatever you want to me.

Aren’t you sweet? But don’t give that kind of blanket consent to just anyone, baby. Bad men might take advantage.

Are you a bad man?

Asher had always loved being called pet names, so the way the man called him “ sweet ” and “ baby ” had his tummy feeling like it was full of butterflies, and his dick straining even harder against his underwear. He all but tore the white briefs off his legs, kicking them across the bed as he slowly stroked himself. A little bead of precum escaped the slit of his cock, and he smeared it against the head, shivering at the sensation.

I wouldn’t cum down your throat. You wouldn’t get a drop of my seed until you were properly punished for ignoring me.

Please, Daddy. I’ll be so good for you.

You can be good by taking your spankings instead of arguing. Now get on your hands and knees and present that ass for me. Can you do that?

Yes, Daddy.

Asher all but scrambled to obey.

He couldn’t help but notice that Mystery Man didn’t answer his question about whether or not he was a bad man, but Asher didn’t have the wherewithal to care at the moment.

Especially when the man’s next message popped onto the screen.

Show me.

Fuck.

There was something he was bound to notice if Asher sent him a nude. (That something being the rock hard erection standing at attention between his legs.) Perhaps, however, there was a way to hide it.

The idea came to him like an epiphany, and half a second later found Asher digging through his underwear drawer until he found what he was looking for. He held up the pair of pink panties.

Sasha had given them to him as a gag gift for his birthday. Trent had been furious, which is probably the only reason Asher had decided to keep them. Now, as he carefully stepped into the delicate pink fabric and pulled them up his legs, he was glad he had.

They were more comfortable than Asher thought they would be, the silk soft against his skin. There was a little bow on the front, and they weren’t particularly scandalous, but they were extremely feminine – exactly what Asher was going for.

He returned to the bed and laid on his stomach, carefully posing so that the way his cockhead threatened to peek out of the top of the panties was hidden from view. After taking a series of pictures on his phone, Asher picked his favorite, and taking in a deep breath, hit send before he could talk himself out of it.

It wasn’t until after he’d sent the picture off that he really thought about what he’d done. Sure, he assumed Mr. Unknown Number thought he was talking to a woman, but there was always a chance he was wrong. And even if he was right, who knows what that woman looked like? She could have a totally different body type than him (besides the obvious), or even a different skin color.

There was a huge chance he’d just given himself away.

Asher was in full-blown freak-out mode when he heard his phone buzz from where he’d tossed it onto his nightstand in a fit of panic.

Sick with nerves, Asher called forth every last scrap of his courage before peeking at the message. And promptly released a sigh of relief.

Then, after taking a moment to truly comprehend the man’s response, he felt himself flush. Slowly relaxing back into his bed, Asher allowed himself to carefully grasp his cock through the pink panties. His erection had lagged a bit during his miniature panic attack, but it was quickly growing back to full hardness as Asher reread the compliments.

It was possible he might have had a bit of a praise kink.

Fuck, baby. That ass is unbelievable. Better than I remember, and those cheeks of yours are so fucking pretty peeking out of those panties.

You like them?

I’d like them even better off. I want to see that fat ass jiggle as I fuck into you.

Please.

Please, what baby?

Please fuck me.

You need to take your punishment first, remember? Get ready for your spankings. I’m not going to stop until your cheeks are pink with my palm prints and you can’t sit without knowing who that ass belongs to.

Asher whined like the man could actually hear him, releasing his cock to reach down further, until he was touching his most intimate place. He carefully circled the pink pucker of his asshole with a finger.

It was risky, but…

Would you spank my hole?

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d love it if I played with your hole, stretching you open with my fingers until you were crying for my cock, desperate to be filled.

Please, fuck me, Daddy! I’d suck you in so good. I promise to lay there and take everything you have to give me.

You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby. I’d ruin you for anyone else. Stuff you so full of my fat cock, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

Anytime you moved, you’d be reminded of me. There’d be no other thoughts in that pretty little head of yours other than me and my cock. You’d crave it constantly, spending your days dreaming about the next time you could have it.

You’d beg to be my little pillow princess, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim with my cum 24/7, until you were bloated with it, constantly dripping.

A strangled noise escaped the back of Asher’s throat.

The imagery of it – of his little belly distending in its effort to hold all the faceless man’s cum, of the white stuff dripping down his thighs… it was too much for Asher.

Abandoning his phone, he beat his cock with one hand while the other continued to toy with his hole. One stroke, then two – it was downright embarrassing how little it took to send Asher over the edge.

He cried out, his back arching as his orgasm rocked through him. His hole latched around his finger, milking it like it was an actual cock as he made a mess of his stomach, painting it with hot streaks of cum.

He was breathing hard by the time he was completely spent, feeling a little out of it from what was probably the most intense orgasm he’d ever been able to give himself with his own two hands.

He glanced at the phone beside him, unsure how to let the man on the other side know he’d finished himself off.

What was the standard protocol here?

Asher always felt a bit loopy after his orgasms, needy in a way he typically wasn’t any other time. (It was an annoying trait, according to his ex, who always complained about being too sticky or tired to cuddle or talk much after sex.)

But how did one partake in afterglow via text message?

Asher picked up his phone, debating on what kind of message to send.

Apparently, however, he needn’t worry about it.

I deposited an extra $500 into your account. 11:00 PM. Don’t be late tomorrow.

Asher stared uncomprehending at the message, understanding on some level that he’d just been paid for sex, but too strung out from his orgasm to truly take in what it meant.

He did , however, recognize the message as the abrupt end to their conversation that it was, and Asher couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Sure, he knew Mystery Man didn’t owe him anything (if anything, Asher owed him for deceiving him), but feelings weren’t exactly logical.

Still, he managed to brush the hurt away after a few minutes of moping.

Deciding he was too tired to examine what had just happened, Asher made the executive decision to wait until tomorrow to properly overthink things. So after making a quick trip to the bathroom to clean himself up, he snuggled under the covers of his bed and promptly returned to the welcoming arms of sleep.