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The Fallback (SAMPLE 18+)

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3. Private Messages

Greyhound: Does this fucking thing work?


Ana: Hey! Ash got the private message thing to work I see. Something on the screen kept blinking. Took me a minute to figure out what the hell was going on.

Greyhound: Baby, I’m always going on.

Ana: Asher was right... We need an eyeroll emoji up in here.

Greyhound: The only eyerolling I know is the kind that happens when a girl’s about to come while I’m fucking her blind.

Ana: Okay, I’m out.

Greyhound: Fuck...no wait, dammit!

Ana: ?

Greyhound: You had questions. I can answer them. But only in PM’s.

Ana: PMS? 🤔

Greyhound: No. PM’s... Private Messages.

Ana: Oh, okay then. So, spill. What’s the story with Freya?

Greyhound: What’s there to tell? We’ve been friends for years, and though I wanted to fuck her since I learned how to use my dick, I only caught feelings for her about a year ago.

Ana: And did you say anything to her about it?

Greyhound: Shit, when? She moves from one man to the next before her bed’s even had time to get cold. The timing was...well, it was never right.

Ana: Oh. Does she sleep around or just have shitty taste in men?

Greyhound: She ain’t a hoe. She either gets bored or they fuck around on her. Why they would, I have no damned clue. She’s a fucking knockout. Well, you know that as you’ve seen her.

So, when are we Facetiming? 😉

Ana: Hmmm, yeah—NO.

Greyhound: Fuck, come on. I already know what you look like, so what’s the problem?

Ana: Oh, yes. I got your friend request on Facebook.

Greyhound: Well, you haven’t responded to it.

Ana: I’m still deciding whether you are Facebook friend-worthy.

Greyhound: I’m worthy where it counts, so don’t you worry.

Ana: <insert eye roll here>

Greyhound: 😝

Ana: Back to Freya, fool. What made you change your mind about just being friends? Did you two ever fuck?

Greyhound: No on the fucking, though not by my choice. Freya doesn’t mix friends and fucking. And I dunno what changed. One minute she was crying on my shoulder when her ex-boyfriend fucked her over, and the next I was wishing I was kissing her lips to stop her from crying.

Ana: A pity fuck? You felt bad and wanted to make her feel better?

Greyhound: No. I don’t do pity fucks. Bitches take that too seriously. Thinking I want seconds and shit.

Ana: Hmmm. So, you’re a manwhore. Nice. 😑

Greyhound: No, not a manwhore. I just like to spread the wealth. 😂

Ana: How...philanthropic of you.

Greyhound: Anyways, I don’t fuck around as much as I used to. Trying to make a good impression on Freya. I think she sees me as more than just a walking hard-on and best friend now. So, I guess that’s progress.

So, when do we Skype?

Ana: Who said anything about Skyping? Are you high?

Greyhound: My dick’s high.

Ana: Sweet Jesus…

Greyhound: And my balls are nice and tight for you.

Ana: Pfft. I’m too much woman for you. You couldn’t get with this, though your offer is...intriguing.

Greyhound: Intriguing doesn’t sound that bad.

Ana: I was being nice, horndog.

Greyhound: We can Skype much easier.

And you can show me your tits. I bet they’re nice and round, dark pink nipples.


Ana: Grey...

Greyhound: Okay, I’m fucking hard.

Ana: I can leave you to take care of your situation if you like.

Greyhound: I’d prefer it if you took care of it for me.😏

Ana: You realize how fucked-up you are? You’re in love with Freya and hitting on me at the same time.

Greyhound: I’m a man. I’m single. I still have needs. You’re single still, right?

Ana: Yeah. 😒

Greyhound: Phone sex? I bet you have a hella sexy voice.

Ana: And if I sounded like Minnie Mouse?

Greyhound: I’d still fuck ya. Just have to choke you to make sure you didn’t scream my name in that voice.

Ana: Okay, then.

What are you gonna do about Freya?

Greyhound: This typing shit’s lame. It’s hard to jerk off and type with one hand.

Ana: You are not...

Are you?

Greyhound: I’ll let you watch if we Skype.

Ana: Yeah...thanks for the offer, but no.😑

Greyhound: What? I have a pretty dick.

Ana: Yes—I’m sure you do.

Greyhound: And yes, I am stroking it.

Ana: 😳

Greyhound: To your pic.

Ana: I don’t believe you.

Which one?

Greyhound: The one with you in that tiny pink bikini.

Ana: OMG! Do not jack off to my pics!

Greyhound: Okay, fine.

I’ll just do it later.

Ana: I have my answer on the Facebook friend request.


Greyhound: Too late. I already downloaded the photos I like of you to my hard drive.

Ana: Jesus—which ones?

Greyhound: All of them 😈

Ana: Ugh, can we get back to Freya?



I’m gone if you don’t respond in ten seconds.

Greyhound: Jesus Christ woman, I was just...finishing something up

Ana: Ew…

Greyhound: Yeah, I would have preferred to finish on your tits instead of my hand and stomach.

Ana: I don’t believe you just came.

Greyhound: Well, if I could upload photos on this piece of shit chat room, I’d send you proof.

Ana: I really hope Ash never masters the uploadable cumshot feature on here.

Greyhound: Well, we could still Skype and you can pretend to lick it off my abs.


Greyhound: I know a way to turn that frown upside down.

Ana: Shouldn’t you be wiping off your knuckle children right about now?

Greyhound: I already did. On a sock.

Hey—what if I promised to be good on Skype? Would you talk to me on there?

Ana: Why are you so eager to video me? You’re all moaning about how you want Freya’s hot bod.

Greyhound: Baby, if you were here I’d have you moaning.

Ana: Freya—tell me everything.

Greyhound: And screaming my name.

Shit, I think I’m still hard.

Or hard again.

Ana: Freya—what is it you love about her?

Greyhound: She’s smart, funny, utterly beautiful. Completely sexy. The whole package. What’s not to love?

Ana: I would have to agree. Like I said—if I swung that way, I’d do her. She’s gorgeous.

Greyhound: You could always experiment. Maybe a threesome? I could satisfy you both.

Ana: Grey...

Greyhound: What, baby?

Ana: You’re deflecting.

Greyhound: I know. ☹

Ana: Aww, poor thing.

Greyhound: Ugh, I just wilted.

Ana: Haha! Did my sympathy cause you to deflate? This is excellent!

Greyhound: Okay...it’s back.

Ana: What’s back?

Greyhound: My mini-me. Love that little dress you wore for your 21st birthday btw, baby. I can see your nipples

Ana: Omg...STOP!

Can we talk about Freya now?

Greyhound: On Skype

Ana: Fine, I’m out.

Greyhound: Don’t, Tati!




iPhone Messenger

Grey: Baby

Tati: Go away, Grey, before I block you.

Grey: I stopped. Seriously…

Tati: Don’t you have a photo of Freya you can beat your meat to instead?

Grey: A man needs a little diversity in his life.

Tati: If we Facetime or Skype once, can you be good?

Grey: You’ll do it?

Tati: If you behave.

Grey: Why are you doing this for me all of the sudden?

Tati: I hate text messaging. Well, I don’t hate it, but autocorrect sucks ass.

Grey: Get on your laptop. I’m gonna call you on Skype.

Tati: Ok—just give me a few moments to pull it up.

Tati opened her laptop again and pulled up the Skype app, a little apprehensive. The group had been chatting for a month or so a couple of times a week. She had “met” not only Grey, Ash, and Kaylie, but also Jonathan as well. Freya came into the chatroom sometimes, though she was not as talkative since she hated sitting in front of a computer for any significant length of time.

Again, they all seemed like a close-knit group, and once more Tati wished she had a bunch of friends like them. She sighed, and when her Skype opened up, she found she answered Grey’s call a little quickly.

Realizing that she was in the shittiest of tight tank tops and short shorts ever, she was a bit frustrated with herself when she saw his face peering back at her for the first time.

Holy. Hell.

The man was...hot. There was no other word. He had deep-set, crystal blue eyes and dark, silky hair. Pillowy lips settled nicely over a strong jaw that was dark with a few day’s stubble. The man may have been wanting to get into business, but he could have made bank as a model.

As she blinked back at him, unsure of what to say, he graced her with a lopsided grin. It was roguish, and Tati honestly wondered how Freya could resist that face. The woman must have some willpower.

“Hey there, baby,” he said to her, his grin widening over white, even teeth.

“Hey,” she said, her voice small and weak.

“Prettier than you expected?” he asked.

She peered at him for a moment, thinking of how to respond to that. She didn’t want to stroke his ego, but was hesitant to lie as well. She was honest to a fault.

“No, I was just wondering how you managed to fit all of your big, fat head onto the screen,” she told him, settling on snark.

“Well, the one above my neck may not be as big as you thought, but—”

“Finish that sentence and I hang up,” she interjected, her mouth twitching. She was trying to hide a smile.

“You’re no fucking fun.”

Damnit. Even his frown was gorgeous. Freya was fucking crazy not to hit that at least once.

“So back to Freya,” she said, clearing her head of naughty wayward thoughts of those lush lips placed between her thighs, his tongue licking up her cream.

Fuck, she was wet and she was only looking at him.

“What about her?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

“Have you tried—I dunno—dating someone seriously and not just fucking anything that’ll lie still long enough?”

“Not really, though I could make an exception for you,” he confided, smirking.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her pink cheeks darkened with the crude compliment.

“I don’t date people halfway across the country,” she told him. “Or men in love with other women for that matter.”

“People, eh?” he said. “So, do you swing both ways?”

“No, I like dick,” she retorted too quickly. Tati immediately wanted to clamp her lips shut, possibly staple them together for good. She must have been chatting with Grey too much. She was starting to speak like him.

“To suck or to fuck?” he asked her, his grin widening even more.

“I thought this conversation would be about Freya,” she muttered petulantly.

“Yeah, well now that I’ve seen you in the flesh, I might be a little hard again,” he told her.

“Keep your hands where I can see them, sir,” she warned him, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“That’s it, baby,” he told her, his fingers lacing behind his head as he stretched back in his seat. “Pout those lips for me. I’m imagining them wrapped tight around my cock.”

“I’m never going to win with you am I?” She tilted her head at him as if scrutinizing a new species of insect.

Grey closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Freya may have been his dream woman, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tati might not as beautiful as Freya, but she was still a gorgeous woman. Her hazel eyes were large and warm, giving off a very innocent look, though Grey knew better. She could be just as raunchy as he at times. And her hair was wavy, piled on top of her head with loose tendrils framing her oval face.

Her cheekbones were just as high as Freya’s, and her hair was a pretty chestnut color. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top, but both were still plump, though not in that fake Botox way that some women donned.

And yes, he was hard, even harder now that he had seen her in the flesh.

Sort of.

Tati closed her eyes for a moment. Was he kidding her? She was nowhere near as attractive as Freya and yet he was acting like just looking at her in her ratty tank top with her hair pulled up in a stupid messy bun was getting him off. He had to be fucking with her.

“Baby, I can tell you just how you can win with me,” he told her, his voice throaty. He resisted the urge to stick his hand down his pants as he watched her mouth turn down in an adorably sexy frown.

“Freya,” she reminded him, as if saying her name would wilt his raging hard-on.

“I can see how hard your nipples are,” he informed her.

Her arms crossed over her chest quickly, obscuring them but pushing her tits up and making her cleavage more prominent. “Yes, baby—push those tits up for me.”

He failed to stifle a needy groan.

“I’m hanging up,” she threatened and reached out with one hand toward her computer.

“No—wait!” he called out, shooting upright in his seat.

“Then behave,” she admonished him.

“I can’t help it if you make me hard,” he told her. “You should be flattered. I haven’t even seen you naked yet and I already want to fuck you.”

“Flattered that a manwhore like you wants to fuck me?” she questioned with a frown. “I feel so...special."

Sarcasm ruled.

“Hey—I don’t get hard as fuck from just looking at anyone, you know,” he told her seriously. “They usually have to suck me off to get me this stiff.”

She cleared her throat, her heart beating a little bit faster. “Well, as flattering as that notion is, I would prefer not to talk about this with you when I know you’re head over heels with a good friend of mine.”

Right. Freya was her friend as well. They had hung out all week at that damned convention. Freya had gushed about her new friend, but Grey hadn’t paid much attention to her words. Now, he wished he had.

“Fine, baby,” he told her, soothingly.

He was so going to jack off to her later, though.

Down, dick, down.

“So, back to Freya and when your love first...blossomed?”

He snorted at that before rolling his eyes.

“Well, it all started with her last boyfriend while she was in college...” he told her, and settled in to explain his deep love for Freya Landon.

And all throughout their thirty-minute conversation, his eyes kept wandering to her lips, wondering what she tasted like.

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