[ Daphne reads his first set of texts, fiddling with her device, finding the options he mentioned and testing out trying to take a picture. The first couple are blurry, so she finds how to steady it, squealing in delight when a photo of a standing mirror in her room comes out clear.
In a course of pressing on different functions (and getting several more randomly taken photos of her own bedroom now saved to her photo reel), she discovers being able to switch the camera's position. That gets a blurry selfie, also saved.
Then she reads the rest of what Dream has said, getting the rest of his texts in the time she'd been fooling around with the camera. ]
You have not made me uncomfortable, now or ever. I assure you. I have simply not received messages like this before, nor do I think I know much about sending ones in turn that may be satisfying.
[ Somehow the exchange of texts is making her bolder, body heating up when she thinks about what else he's said.
So, with all of the grace she's capable of given her unfamiliarity with taking photos, she ends up snapping a couple. The first, a shot of white fabric and wavy hair hanging in the frame, clothed stomach and pooling of her nightdress showing, one she hadn't meant to take but sends accidentally. The second, there's intent behind. Daphne takes to heart what he'd said in response to her misfired text: he wanted to see how wet she is.
It makes her heart race to think of sending him such an intimate picture, scooting the hem of her dress up, positioning the camera so it's between her legs, looking down at herself in frame with a soft gasp, wisps of hair covering her sex, slit clear and slightly wet. That she's in the privacy of her own room, has chosen to send this text, it's what she needs to feel secure and unashamed of her choice to even take the picture. ]
Like this?
[ She grows a little nervous then, blushing, still aroused by him getting the message but it's the first of this kind for her. Some self-doubt emerges, and she waits for his reply instead of adding more words. ]
no subject
In a course of pressing on different functions (and getting several more randomly taken photos of her own bedroom now saved to her photo reel), she discovers being able to switch the camera's position. That gets a blurry selfie, also saved.
Then she reads the rest of what Dream has said, getting the rest of his texts in the time she'd been fooling around with the camera. ]
You have not made me uncomfortable, now or ever. I assure you. I have simply not received messages like this before, nor do I think I know much about sending ones in turn that may be satisfying.
[ Somehow the exchange of texts is making her bolder, body heating up when she thinks about what else he's said.
So, with all of the grace she's capable of given her unfamiliarity with taking photos, she ends up snapping a couple. The first, a shot of white fabric and wavy hair hanging in the frame, clothed stomach and pooling of her nightdress showing, one she hadn't meant to take but sends accidentally. The second, there's intent behind. Daphne takes to heart what he'd said in response to her misfired text: he wanted to see how wet she is.
It makes her heart race to think of sending him such an intimate picture, scooting the hem of her dress up, positioning the camera so it's between her legs, looking down at herself in frame with a soft gasp, wisps of hair covering her sex, slit clear and slightly wet. That she's in the privacy of her own room, has chosen to send this text, it's what she needs to feel secure and unashamed of her choice to even take the picture. ]
Like this?
[ She grows a little nervous then, blushing, still aroused by him getting the message but it's the first of this kind for her. Some self-doubt emerges, and she waits for his reply instead of adding more words. ]