Months blurred into a haze of filthy correspondence between Stiles and Derek, their letters escalating from naughty teases to outright p*rn*graphic confessions. Every envelope from the prison arrived like a drug, Stiles’s hands shaking as she tore them open in the privacy of her room, her parents none the wiser downstairs. Derek’s words grew bolder with each reply—detailing how he’d choke her with his nine-inch cock, breed her fat pink pussy until she couldn’t walk, make her swallow his cum like a good little whore. He’d describe jerking off to her Polaroids, cumming all over the pics of her spread cunt, her massive tits, her juicy ass. “I lick the photo of your pussy before I stroke, imagining your taste, you dripping slut,” he’d write, sending Stiles into frenzies where she’d fuck herself with a dildo, moaning his name into her pillow.