Weekend At Margaret's

You admit, you shouldn't do it.

You've done a lot of things you shouldn't have done, including blowing your load on a girl before you even had sex. You hadn't had sex before then and you were excited!

That's one thing. You didn't choose that.

You can, however, choose whether or not you do what the text says.

"Cum to this address."

You know the "cum" was not a mistake. It's a long story, but it's not the first time this person has told you "cum". And, in many cases, you have. Moments after they instructed—uh, you mean, texted you to do it, you did it.

The problem is, well... you don't exactly know who this person is.

That is a little embarrassing.

Yes, you've been texting with them for months.

Yes, you think they know you really well. Hell, they've been with you during sex with Barbara. What a session that was!

But, you don't know who they are or what they want. You do know that they instruct—guide you to do some pretty crazy stuff, but it always works out. It pushes the envelope, but it works out for you.

Jesus, and nearly every text has increasing needs.

Each text takes you one more step down a crazy path, but each part has been amazing. If only you knew who was plotting your course.

The possible suspects are Barbara... though you don't know how the texter guided you through sex with her when you had her bound up and, well, engaged.

It could be Greg, the boyfriend of a girl you had been dating before it got too weird. But, he was too busy fucking her... and, well, her sister, to be sending you one of the texts.

There's your friend Derek, but it's not his style and he'd be a little more clued in on your life happenings if it was him.

And then, well, you don't know.

If you want to know more about those people, this texter, and what happened, well, you might want to read about it here: 37 Ways to Get F**ked

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/1382911/chapters/1?preview=true

You'll know when you get back to where you are now... the text to cum to a given address.

"I can come this weekend, but I need to work and run some errands. Saturday morning?"

"Fuck that. Now."

You should be offended. You should have more backbone, but the texter has never lead you astray.

Also, it's important to note that you have been edging going on three weeks. It's safe to assume this weekend will be your reward: a release, or two.

"Okay."

You feel like a dumbass when you turn down the street and realize where you are going.

To Barbara's. You've been there so many times, but never paid close attention to the actual street address.

"You close?"

"Yes."

"Switch to voice."

You comply "like a good boy" as your texter would say. You hear her robotic voice responds when you say, "I'm almost at the door."

"Good boy."

It's not the texter's real voice. It's an app that converts texts into conversation. It came in real handy when the texter guided you through fucking Barbara.

You're more convinced than ever that the texter is Barbara, but you're still not sure how she managed the voice exchange. It would have been almost impossible to pre-write that and get the timing correct. If not her, there must have been a camera in the room for the texter to watch and guide. You've never been able to find one, though you haven't inspected her bedroom that closely.

You get to the door and the door buzzes. Apparently, Barbara is expecting you. You realize that she must have someone else in cahoots with her. That would make sense.

But who?

"The key is in the mailbox."

"Freakin' secure," you respond as you retrieve it.

"Shut up. Don't say anything unless I tell you to. Understood?"

"Yes," you say after considering whether this was a test of your ability to shut up.

You open the door and expect to see Barbara. Last time, the texter had you take her right from the start. Barbara was both genuinely surprised and genuinely pleased by the whole encounter.

"Close and lock the door behind you. Then go use the restroom."

"I don't really need to—"

"Shut up. Are you captivated? Will you be compliant?"

You know that's a trigger word, but you can't avoid replying, "Yes."

Part of you is saying to leave now.

But you've never been led wrong.

After coming out of the bathroom, you peek into the bedroom, expecting to see Barbara waiting on the bed in a sexy red outfit. But, she is not there.

"What's taking so long?"

"I'm done," you say.

"Go into the bedroom"