Two of those fat, Crayola felt tips, discovered at the far bottom of the craft box, purchased during a brief adult colouring book phase. She gave the lengths a slippery Fairy liquid handjob – not quite the same as the knowing fingers of her beloved, but close enough. Somehow she missed being fingered more than the pulsing urgency of cum flooding her cunt.
She dialled, and sat back with her feet at either side of the tripod. Instead of making kissy faces at the screen as he tutted, she brandished the pens and worked one in and out of her pink lipglossed mouth as he masturbated.
Exposing her belly, inner thighs and cunt to the camera’s unflinching eye, she dripped lubricant from off-screen, smoothing it around her clit with the rounded end of the pen, thinking about the times he’d used his cock to bring her off before fucking her. She pushed it in an inch before reaching for the second, squeezing a further glug of lube along the shaft and moaning at the intrusion.
She knew how lewd she looked on the other side of the image, all cute folds of fat and shiny, swollen lips; spreading herself for his greedy gaze. They tried their hardest to avoid thoughts of how this wasn’t the same, wasn’t good enough without the hot, wet sounds and smells of sex.
From two miles away he watched her and grasped at memories of her throat pulsing and yielding to his cock; her tongue assessing the length as he squirted lube in his palm and stroked his cock.
The familiar chainsaw buzz of the vibrator drowned out any other sound, so he watched her cunt twitch and redden, exhaling as his own cum splattered over the screen.
Soon, was what they clung to.