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Cyber Mittens

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College

Samantha: Hello again, gentle reader!

Nina: Hi there!

Samantha: Sam and Nina here! In our customary positions!

Nina: For the uninitiated, that means a brief chat session before we get to the actual story, both of us on laptops. I’m butt-naked on the floor, and Sam’s machine is perched precariously on my back.

Samantha: For the extra-uninitiated, the rules are… oh, go and read Mittens and Schrödinger’s Mittens, it’ll explain why Nina actually types out her protestations to my hairbrush-spanks.

Nina: If you’re just looking to get off, you don’t need to read the first two stories.

Nina: But you’ll enjoy this one much more if you do.

Samantha: Hell, go and read the first two stories especially if you’re just looking to get off.

Samantha: Anyway, here we are, to do the introduction to…

Samantha: NINA.

Nina: Yes, mistress?

Nina: OW! Hey, what was that for?!

Samantha: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CALL THIS.

Nina: I call it “Cyber Mittens!” 😀

Samantha: So, not High-Voltage Mittens, then.

Nina: Um…

Samantha: See, now I’m gonna have to use the hairbrush.

Nina: 🙁

Samantha: DO

Nina: ow

Samantha: YOU

Nina: OW!

Samantha: REALIZE

Nina: aaaahahahowww!

Samantha: HOW LONG

Nina: aaaaaah!

Samantha: OUR READERS

Nina: Ohhhhoh, oh, oh, my poor bottom!

Samantha: HAVE BEEN WAITING

Nina: I’m sorry, mistress!

Samantha: FOR HIGH

Nina: OW!

Samantha: VOLTAGE

Nina: OOOWWWWW YIKES

Nina: …

Nina: …mistress?

Samantha: Wait for it…

Nina: okay…

Samantha: MITTENS?

Nina: AAAAaaaaah ow ow ow why did I give it a three-word title

Samantha: Why isn’t it finished, Nina?

Samantha: And what’s this that we’re reading instead?

Nina: It isn’t finished because just before I wrote the ending, I got inspired!

Nina: And what the Dear Readers are reading is this inspiration!

Nina: It’s about pancakes and butts!

Samantha: Pancakes and…

Samantha: *sighs*

Nina: …

Nina: …I hope you like it?

Samantha: Is this about that time we ate all the pancakes?

Nina: …maybe

Samantha: You wrote a story about that. And you published it on Literotica.

Samantha: You know, Nina, I’ve looked at every single category on Literotica.

Samantha: You wanna know which one’s the most underrepresented?

Nina: …the pancake section?

Samantha: THE PANCAKE SECTION.

Samantha: THAT’S RIGHT.

Samantha: Underrepresented, in fact, to the point of NOT FUCKING BEING THERE.

Samantha: BECAUSE JESUS FUCK WHY WOULD YOU EVEN DO THAT.

Nina: Maybe they should make a pancake section!

Nina: We’d be the first story in it!

Samantha: WE’D BE THE ONLY STORY IN IT.

Samantha: FOREVER.

Nina: Oh man, Sam, can you imagine our Amazon sales if we tapped into that niche?

Nina: For those people who like pancake erotica, we’d be the only game in town!

Samantha: Yes, for those people.

Samantha: ALL THREE OF THEM.

Samantha: And I’m pretty sure one of them is you.

Nina: Sam if we got three sales that’d actually be quite a bump, for us. 😛

Samantha: It’s a good thing we’re not doing this for the money, huh.

Nina: Anyway, it’s not actually about the pancakes.

Samantha: (Dear Reader, if you came here for pancake porn, and I know at least one of you did because this is the internet, you can stop reading now)

Nina: It’s about the day after the pancakes.

Samantha: Oho!

Samantha: That day!

Samantha: Well, all right then!

Samantha: Lead on!

Nina: Very well, Mistress, I shall. 🙂

Nina: Enjoy, gentle reader!

***

A voice issued from Nina’s purse.

“Do you have the time, to listen to me whi-Do you have the time, to listen to me whi-Do you have the time…”

Nina rummaged, resolved to change her ringtone for the ninth time that week, pulled out her phone, glanced at the display. She smiled, and hit the green thing.

“Hey, Sam!” said Nina, more loudly than she had to.

“My God, Nina!” cried Samantha, tinny in Nina’s ear.

Nina’s eyes widened. “Shit, what’s wrong?” she asked, standing up.

“I’ve – ” Samantha hesitated, then spoke in a timid, squeaky voice – “I’ve put on two and a half kilos since we started having sex!”

Nina sighed, relaxed, let herself fall back into the cushions. “From the way you sounded, I thought your house was on fire.”

“Two and a half kilos!” said Samantha, a static-laden voice in Nina’s ear. “It’s only a week and a day since I kissed you!”

Nina shrugged. “That’s what happens to people when they’re in love, Sam, they put on a little weight.” She frowned. “How the hell much is two and a half kilos, anyway?”

“Like five and a half pounds!” Samantha sounded distraught. “I’ve put on nearly three quarters casino şirketleri of a pound a day! That’s nuts!”

Nina closed her eyes, rubbed them with the fingers of her left hand. “Sam,” she said, gently, “First, you’re still gorgeous, don’t worry about that. Second, do you remember what we did yesterday?”

Samantha paused. “Um…”

“We went out to a fancy breakfast,” said Nina, “then we cuddled up and watched movies. When we were hungry again, you made us pancakes. Special one-week anniversary pancakes.”

“I remember…” said Samantha, quietly.

“And by “Special,” you meant “Normal pancakes, but more of them.” Quite a lot more, it turned out.” Nina picked up her mug of tea. “I was full when I was like halfway done, but we just carried on. We ate them all up, even though we didn’t need to, just because we could. It was an orgy of pancake gluttony.”

Nina heard a moan from Samantha. She grinned.

“Oh, that’s not the worst part. You remember what happened after?” asked Nina. “A few minutes after you put down your fork, you turned to me and declared that you had become sleepy from eating too many pancakes, and you required,” she grinned, “and I quote, a ‘pancake nap.’ Your words, Sam. That’s why we’re both putting on weight. In one short week, you went from daily jogging and weight training to sofa-movies and pancake naps.”

“Oh, God…”

“I enjoyed that pancake nap, too,” said Nina, unconsciously pinching at her own stomach. “And then we were both too full of pancakes to even make love, so I just… kind of… waddled on home.”

“No more pancake naps!” said Samantha.

Nina grinned. “Who are you, the pancake police?”

“I have to put this right. Quick, what’s the opposite of a pancake nap?”

Nina thought for a moment. What the hell is the opposite of a pancake nap? “A…” She furrowed her brow. “A carrot…” she shrugged. “…sex?”

Samantha took a second in answering.

Nina held her breath.

“…a carrot sex?” said Samantha, finally. Nina could hear the grin in her voice.

“Carrots are healthy,” said Nina, blushing. “Sex burns calories. A carrot sex is clearly the opposite of a pancake nap.”

“Oh, really,” came Samantha’s voice, low and sly. “And whatever would you do with this carrot?”

Nina grinned. “I’d…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d… do things with it. To you.”

“What sort of things?”

Nina squirmed in her seat. “I, uh…” she chuckled nervously. “I’m not much good with phone sex, Sam.”

I’m not. I’m really not. If this continues, I’m going to end up saying “I would place it in your butt, and suchlike. Wriggle it about and move it in various directions, until the results are satisfactory.”

Samantha paused. “You? Not good with sexy talk?”

Nina pouted. “I’m better in person.”

“You were fine in chat, that one time.”

An idea came to Nina. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hmm?”

Nina reached up to twiddle the phone cord in her fingers, momentarily forgetting that she was using a cellphone. “I was thinking about that chat, earlier today. It was hot.”

Nina heard the grin in Samantha’s voice. “You know, you could come over and fuck me right now, Nina. But… if you’re feeling nostalgic… I’m open to the idea of cybersex.”

Nina grinned. “No reason we couldn’t do both. One after the other. Just like that first time.”

“Mmm,” said Samantha, low and breathy. “I like that idea.”

***

Samantha: Fucking hell Nina, your computer takes a LONG time to boot up.

Samantha: I thought you were going to put in that spare SSD of mine.

Nina: I thought you were going to help me with that.

Samantha: Bring it over, later.

Nina sighed, nestling into the covers, feeling the sheets brush against her bare bottom.

Samantha: I’ve been sat here waiting so long, I ended up on Literotica.

Samantha: I had time to read three stories!

Nina: Oh no, not Literotica! That place is full of perverts and deviants.

Samantha: And speaking of which, I believe you had something involving a carrot in mind.

Nina grinned. Been a week, now. Still haven’t done much of anything with Sam’s butt. She gave me a little poke there, once, and then we… kind of… didn’t. Was that for any particular reason, or were we just happily distracted by boobs and vaginas?

Let’s see.

Nina: Why yes, Mistress, as a matter of fact, I did.

Samantha: Nina, ooc for a moment – I don’t want a carrot in me, not IRL anyway. You get either pesticides or dirt-creatures, so no. But as a fantasy, I kinda like the texture, the firmness.

Nina: Okay then.

Nina shook her head, grinning.

Nina: Then I will tell you all about the things I would like to do with this carrot, and then when the time comes, we’ll do them with something safer.

Nina: Now let’s shut off reality for a moment, ‘kay?

Nina: And go somewhere where we can do things like putting carrots in each other, having you spank casino firmaları my bottom in public, that kind of thing.

Nina felt a warm rush between her legs as she typed. Admitting that – that I have a public-spanking fantasy… that’s hot.

Also kind of wonderful that I can share that with her so easily.

Samantha: Public spanking? My goodness.

Samantha: Should I tell you what I’d do with this carrot, my love?

Samantha: My little rabbit?

Nina shivered.

Nina: Yes. 🙂

Nina’s hand crept down her belly as Samantha typed.

Samantha: Would you like me to humiliate you?

Nina: yes

Samantha: Masturbate for me, while I tell you all about it.

Samantha: You got me off last time.

Samantha: It’s only fair.

Nina’s fingers ran through coarse pubic hair – she felt the temperature rising as she stroked further down, ran her fingertip over the sensitive nubbin of her clitoris, was mildly surprised to find a well of slick wetness in the valley of her labia.

Must have been the anticipation while I was waiting for this fucking thing to boot up.

Samantha: And you’re right, this is a fantasy.

Samantha: And in a fantasy, we can do things that we can’t do in real life.

Samantha: And so, in this fantasy, I’m taking you for a little stroll.

Nina: Where are we going?

Samantha: I’m taking you for a walk down Main Street.

Samantha: It’s a hot day.

Samantha: You’re sweating.

Samantha: Not just from the heat.

Samantha: You know that you’ve been very, very naughty.

Samantha: You know that you’re about to be punished.

Samantha: You know that you’re about to be humiliated.

Samantha: For the whole world to see.

I like this already, thought Nina, gently stroking between her labia with the index finger of her right hand, feeling heat, softness, wetness, delicious friction.

Samantha: We get to the corner of Fifth and Main.

Samantha: You see your reflection in the window of Jenny’s.

Samantha: You’re a mess. You’re pale and shaking because you know that you’ve been extremely naughty, and you know that there’s going to be consequences, and you know what’s going to happen to you – because I told you before we left the house. I explained to you, in vivid, Technicolor detail, what was about to happen to you.

Samantha: On the busiest intersection in the city.

Samantha: While everyone watches.

With a contented, shaky-breathed sigh, Nina stroked the tip of her index finger around the soft, wet entrance to her vagina. Keep going, Sam. She reached up to the keyboard with her left hand, and pecked out something vaguely appreciative.

Nina: mmm

Samantha: You’re carrying a folding chair.

Nina: oh?

Samantha: Shaking, sweating, not quite believing that any of this is happening, you open it and sit it down on the corner.

Samantha: Already people are turning curious glances in our direction.

Samantha: I smile at them, and beckon them over.

Samantha: And then I turn to you,

Samantha: And I say,

Samantha: “Start undressing.”

Nina felt something hot rush up through her stomach. Oh God. With a happy squelch, her finger slid through a tiny resistance, and pushed deeply into the warmth of her vagina, her palm cupping her mons, pressing gently against her clitoral hood.

Nina: ooh

Samantha: You start with your T-shirt. You hesitate, you can’t quite bring yourself to take your clothes off with so many people around.

Samantha: But you don’t hesitate for long, because I’m watching you.

Samantha: And you know that if you don’t do exactly as I say, the punishment will get worse.

Samantha: Slow, trembling, you pull it over your head.

Samantha: I’m pleased with how slow you’re going. You want to go faster, but your desire to get it over with is fighting with your fear of doing it at all, and fear is winning.

Samantha: I take your T-shirt,

Samantha: and I tear it in half,

Samantha: and I throw it into the trash can.

Samantha: And that’s when you realize that you’ll have to walk home without it.

Oh God, she could. Nina writhed, breathing heavily, blushing, her finger moving in slow little back-and-forth motions, a tiny wet sound issuing from each miniscule thrust. She could just tear that thing in half like it was paper.

Samantha: People are stopping, now, and staring.

Samantha: They’re looking at you, Nina – at your tits, nestled in that lacy white bra of yours.

Samantha: And they can see your nipples. All hard and perky, because as terrified as you are to be doing this, you’re also turned on by it.

Samantha: All these strangers can see how turned on you are. They can see the pulse of your heartbeat in your neck, and they can see how scared you are.

Samantha: (ooh, sudden inspiration!)

Nina’s left hand crawled up underneath her T-shirt to her breast, cupping, squeezing güvenilir casino gently, the palm of her right hand squelching wetly against the sensitive point of her clitoral hood. What sort of inspiration could that be?

Samantha: Wrapped around your neck is a pretty black collar.

Samantha: An invention of mine.

Samantha: It’s feeling the pulse in your neck.

Samantha: And I’ve brought along a big subwoofer and a strobe light.

Samantha: Every time your heart beats, the subwoofer pounds, the light flashes.

Samantha: Everyone can see and hear how terrified you are.

Samantha: You can’t hide yourself from them. Even if you try to pretend to be calm, your terrified heart will betray you. You feel like a specimen under a microscope.

Nina: fuck sam thats awesome

Samantha: You don’t have to type back, little rabbit, just make yourself come.

Samantha: This is my fantasy, now.

Samantha: You’re in my world.

Samantha: You’re just here to fuck yourself for my amusement.

Samantha: Confine yourself to oohs and aahs and mmms.

Nina’s fingertips found her pert, erect nipple, and pinched, stroked, twisted just a little – and the index finger of the other hand slithered from her vagina and gently stroked the sensitive bump of her clitoris. Sharp, clear, focused little points of pleasure. Yes…

Samantha: Your fingers find themselves at the hips of your jeans.

Samantha: “You’ll find it much easier,” I say, “if you take your shoes and socks off first, you silly girl.”

Samantha: Shivering, you do that. People watch. You wonder what’s going through their minds – how much of a pervert they must think you are, that you’d so clearly enjoy disrobing in public.

Samantha: The sidewalk is hot and gritty under your bare feet, and there’s a warm breeze across your belly, your arms, your breasts.

Samantha: You realize that soon you’ll feel that breeze in more places, and you already feel naked and vulnerable and exposed, and your heart beats faster.

Samantha: Your fingers go, again, to the button on the front of your jeans.

Samantha: They don’t work properly – they’re shaking too much.

Samantha: A drop of sweat runs down from your armpit.

Samantha: You wonder if the people who are starting to gather nearby can smell you.

“They’d smell me now,” breathed Nina, a thrill running through her belly at hearing her own words spoken aloud, quiet and shivery, tugging her nipple, stroking inside herself. “They’d smell my cunt,” she whispered, teasing her finger over her tingling clitoris and downwards, then pushing two fingers slowly into her vagina – feeling herself stretched, satisfyingly full.

Samantha: Finally you get the button undone.

Samantha: You start to pull down your jeans.

Samantha: You’re wearing a thong underneath – you feel a breeze on the top of your buttocks, and you hesitate.

Samantha: I don’t like that hesitation.

Samantha: I grab hold of your jeans and I yank them down to your ankles, and I’m not at all gentle about it.

Samantha: You’re standing in your underwear and a puddle of jeans, on the busiest intersection in the city, with strangers watching, and you can feel their eyes on you. You can feel them staring at your bare bottom, at your pert nipples visible through your bra, at the pubic hair visible through the lace of your thong.

Samantha: A motorcycle passes, weaving through traffic, and you feel its hot exhaust cough against every inch of your skin.

Samantha: Well… not quite every inch.

Samantha: Your reflection in Jenny’s window is a pale, shaking, terrified wreck.

Samantha: Your eyes focus past your reflection and to the customers eating ice-cream inside.

Samantha: They’re all watching you. Some are staring in shock – some are grinning, or blushing. Some are holding a spoonful of ice-cream halfway to their open mouths.

Samantha: I say, “Turn around, little rabbit, and show the nice people your pretty little backside.”

Samantha: You comply, of course, and as you turn, you feel the breeze across more of your bare, vulnerable body.

Samantha: You feel their eyes on your butt. You feel them evaluating it, comparing it to other asses they’ve seen throughout the years, silently grading it.

Nina moaned, stroking her fingers back and forth inside of herself, her scent rising, the laptop shaking on her tummy with each heartbeat.

Nina: mmm

Samantha: You’re not finished stripping, yet.

Samantha: I say,

Samantha: “Are you going to take that bra off, Nina, or do I have to do it for you?”

Samantha: Your fingers fumble with the clasp – you can’t stop them from trembling.

Samantha: We’re attracting quite a crowd, now. Traffic has stopped, and a hundred strangers are openly gawping at your barely-clothed body, your visible nipples, your bare ass.

Samantha: Finally you get the bra undone, and you fumble it off, slowly, trying to cover your breasts with your arms.

Samantha: I scowl at you and grab your biceps, painfully tight, and I ram your arms down to your sides, exposing your nipples to the warm sun, the cool wind, the hundreds of pairs of eyes.

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