Page 105 of The Flirty Vet

Wilby:What is it?

Col:I flew down to the Gold Coast.

Col:I'm in my hotel room.

Col:Lying on my bed.

Col:Naked.

Col:Touching my hole.

Col:But it's not giving me what I want.

Col:Which, in case you haven't figured out by now, is your big, juicy cock sliding in and out of me.

There.

I leave it at that. Not a bad effort for my first time dirty texting. Wilby should be nice and hard by now.

The bouncy dots appear then disappear a few times. Yep, he's having trouble thinking.

I smile. Perfect.

But then:

Wilby:Pic?

Fuck. That ain't happening. Thatcan'thappen. I'm not in my hotel room. I'm fully clothed and making my way through baggage claim.

Col:You go first.

I wince. Shit. That's not really a solution, more of a stopgap measure. But maybe he's out in public, too, so can't send me one, either.

I make it through the airport and order myself a car when another text comes through—a close-up shot of my favorite cock in the world. It's a great pic, too. Right angle, lighting, everything.

Col:Where are you?

Wilby:At the pub. With a mate. On the Gold Coast.

I shake my head. Got to give him points for keeping up the ruse.

Wilby:Snuck away to the toilets.

Wilby:I was hard just thinking about you and what you're doing and was able to take the shot quickly.

Wilby:Good thing, too.The guy who came in as I was leaving started dropping a massive stink bomb.

"Ew, gross," I mutter to myself.

Wilby:Now it's your turn. Pic please.

Annnd I'm back here again.

Col:What pub are you at? I can get dressed and we could meet up? I'm kinda hungry.

I stare at my phone, hoping my second deflection tactic works better than my first. My car pulls up so I drop my luggage into the trunk and get in.

I don't hear from Wilby until my phone buzzes as we're pulling up at the hotel I hastily booked. I grab my bags, thank the driver, and check my phone.