Looking through my old emails, I came upon love letters sent between me and a long distance lover years ago. This lover was the man who spurred the catalyst that has become my life now and the man who helped me say good-bye to a life lived in black and white and fully express my sexuality in living color. I remembered, we sent baleful yearnings, salacious, lustful requests and descriptions of what effect our frantic attraction would cause in our everyday lives. Back and forth we’d write, trying to satisfy the penetrating ache and unyielding incompleteness we both felt by not being able to satisfy (or even see) the other. Though it’s quite clear that our keyed-up lust bred bad writing, I can attest, the feelings and yearning were quite serious and real. These letters are bursting with the impatience, passion and heady, overwrought longing of two people experiencing passion for the first time … at 40.
Our conversation ended so abruptly, it was as if I had just awoke from a pleasant dream to the harsh reality of another day. During the last few minutes of our time together, I was merely just sitting there enjoying listening to your voice and our banter. It’s as if we were two boxers sparring in a ring except our gloved hands were replaced by quips and words that landed with love, passion, and torment.
I was left psychologically spirited and sexually charged – not to the point of no return, but I felt that if I could muster an orgasm in your honor, I might be able to sleep soundly with you in my dreams. I began by reviewing transcripts of previous IM sessions, but was quickly caught up in the task of trying to read for other meanings and inflection. Pausing to cease that effort, I tried to get more into the sexuality of it, but was left semi-erect and no clear path to success.
I realized the burr in my saddle may have been my contemplation of your request for a picture of my hands. I Googled “hands” for some time trying to find a likeness yet without my scars, veins and weathered skin. Finally, my conscience got the better of me. “She gave me a pass to not partake in this folly. Why throw something out there that is not you?”
Finally, I took a photo of my hand. Using the chairside table and lamp, I aligned and lighted so it would be just so. First I considered the palm side but demurred with the crazy thought that somehow you could determine more from me by reading my palm. It would have included the all too evident calluses from the day’s labor restoring the house. Then to the back, I rolled my E.T.-like digits under, thereby not only covering my rugose fingertips, but also hiding signs of my oral fixation … nails bitten down to the quick.
Satisfied with the results, I sent it to you without further contemplation. I knew once it was sent, I could not take it back and only have greater regret depending on your feedback (a side note, your feedback was gracious and worthy of my consternation).
It was now approaching midnight and my body yearned for release. I spent some time catching up on my reader, madly scanning for a
picture or something to provide the needed spark. At this point, I actually adjusted my laptop from my lap to the footrest in front of me. In this position, without any underwear, I was free to grasp, grope and cajole arousal from my member. At one point, the arousal built to a high enough level, I felt it necessary to push my pants down to my ankles, thereby allowing for unfettered access. My tip exuded a small amount of pre-cum yet not enough to satisfactorily lube. It’s as if my body was yelling, “This isn’t what we’ve been getting! Who are you trying to fool?” I contemplated reaching for a bottle of lube to assist, but that seemed like almost too much work to complete.
In a hasty last attempt, I began searching for stories. Stories describing acts that we’ve yet to achieve with words as inspiring as those that we’ve streamed. There was enough inspiration to continue, but not enough to fully satisfy my needs. Finally, just before midnight I gave up.
Throughout the evening, I’d incessantly, almost compulsively switched to Twitter, AIM and Gtalk, hoping your RL (sic: real life) would allow for respite and you would be online. I envisioned myself as an intruder, hiding in the shadows waiting for you to return to your room. I knew if you did, I’d spring upon you like a cougar on a quail. Unsuspecting you’d be mindless as I assaulted your senses. You’d be powerless as I grabbed you with strong hands and pushed you over the back of the chair. You’d be paralyzed as I’d yank the nightgown from your startled body, and there before me, your alabaster skin would provide a feast for my weary eyes.
My shoes would kick your legs wider, matching the feet of the chair. Only your thong would seemingly provide protection from my lecherous eyes. Your answer wouldn’t matter, for your fate had been prejudged. Shortly after your retort, my right hand would smack flatly against your ass. Your head would involuntarily jerk up only to realize my left hand in your hair still held you in a contorted posture. “Do you know how much I longed for you to return?”lecherous eyes. You’d feel my body slide by, fearful of my next action. Then suddenly I’d grab your auburn locks and pull your head back, as if correcting a spirited filly. A slight gasp would come from your mouth, not expecting the onslaught. “Why did you keep me waiting so long?” I’d sneeringly whisper in your ear.
Perhaps realizing no words were appropriate, no sound would come from your lips. My hand would gently descend and stroke at the reddening image of my palm. Barely touching your cheek, it’d gently trace the contrasting lines of broken blood vessels and unfettered skin. Only, when you’d emit that sigh, that peaceful accepting sigh, my rage would rise again.
“Are you enjoying this my Elle?” I’d scowl. While my left hand would jerk your head again, my right would push down my pants. There, the product of my hours of waiting would spring forth waiting to finish the attack. You’d remain glancing, unknowing the certainty of your situation.
My right hand would return to your rear and trace the line of your thong from back to front. There it would find purchase and frantically push it aside. Grabbing your hip, my erection would suddenly arise from between your legs shocking your senses and causing your head to flinch against the bonds of your hair yet again. “I know you’ll enjoy this,” I’d promise.
Suddenly, with nary a warning I’d push my throbbing member deep inside you. The wetness of your loins contradicts the plea of your surprise, as I’d slam my entire length deep inside. And at my hilt, I’d pause. My hips would roll and my right hand would push back against your mons, hoping to feel myself buried deep inside. I’d adjust some more and probe some more, again hoping to feel the outline of my member buried deep within.
While remaining deep inside, my hand would slide down across your clit. Gently reminding you of a presence outside your cunt. Then two fingers would trace the slippery, swollen lips distended by my insertion. Gathering juice as if a bee gathering pollen. That same hand, those same fingers would then find your mouth and forcibly enter urging to be cleaned.
And upon the sound of a whimper, I’d awaken again realizing my need to gain control of your mind and body yet again. My right and left hands would join together on your shoulder blades pushing you further over the spine of our makeshift saddle. I’d push strongly against the center of your back while my hardened cock would remain deeply buried. Only satisfied when the sweat began to roll up your back, would my devastating attack begin.
And in an animalistic fever, my passion would erupt. My guttural sounds accompanied by your moans and the sounds of our sexes sliding together. The moisture from our efforts would drip from our bodies while the juices of our groins would wick up your thong. At times my force would so overcome our pose that the chair would slide forward causing us to adjust yet again.
Our passion was building, our bodies afire. I would sense that we’d be approaching the peak before orgasm momentarily. And yet I’d wanted to render one final punitory act. My hips would slide back – my dick just outside your dripping slit. I’d pause just long enough to make you hesitate, make you yearn, and make you turn your head in search of fulfillment. Only there you’d see a blur.
You’d momentarily realize it was the indistinguishable sight of my left hand racing to find your left ass cheek again. And with a loud smack you’d cry. Then, from pleasure to pain in a mere fraction of a second, your mind would become overwhelmed with the contrast and try to comprehend the significance. “You must always remain available,” I’d deeply scowl.
And then, before you could adjust, searing fire now smoldering in each cheek, I’d pile into you again, momentarily slamming the air from your body as your heaving chest crashed into the chair. My hands would be pawing at your hips attempting to maintain the tempo. Our bodies would take over, the passion overwhelming.
And out of the corner of my eye, I’d notice the clock. 12:23am.
There, in the haze of a sex depraved fantasy, you’d slipped into the realm of AIM. In a flash of a moment, you’d come and you’d gone. Not even a whisper. Not even a pause. Never even realizing who waited in the shadows.
I’ve just read your story for the third time tonight and am still left breathless and stimulated beyond any hope of sensible relief. The fact that a very similar fantasy has played through my mind a 1000 times before without having the courage to speak it aloud was enticing enough … but to read on .. oh my …
The first time I read your story in full was in the restroom of an event at a posh hotel this evening at approximately 8:00pm. These restrooms had individual shuttered stalls that were more like individual closets in a East Hampton estate than a hotel lavatory. I snuck in to read my piece from my lover and it did not disappoint. When I noticed the fresh wet feeling between my thighs, I knew I was sunk. I had already decided to take off my skirt, hang it on the hook and place my phone in my left hand … my right began to massage the inner folds of my slit. Already steaming and drenched, my pussy was ready as it had been all day … to get fucked again … to cum again to your delicious description of how you would have your way with me.
When you described your shoes kicking my feet wider apart, I felt heady as I began to stroke my pussy even faster and deeper, grazing my clit every now and again to let it know that I would be back to sate her. Your hand slapping my ass, other hand grasping my hair as I sighed to release the feeling of the deep relief your presence promised me. Scowling “Are you enjoying this, Elle?” had me panting even harder in that tiny space imagining your hot, moist breath behind my ear as you whispered it while working over my cunt in a furious fever for satisfaction. I could feel my face contorting, getting hot … I could hear my inner voice struggling and begging for me to make myself cum now. But the story wasn’t over and I knew that you would want it saved until the last possible moment.
The moment you slammed your cock into into me, resting it in my deepest crevice, feeling for an outline of your member, I could barely stand it. Imagining, your steaming body against mine – feeling your skin connect with my back and knowing you were inside me was more than I could take. I shook and could feel the flutter of my orgasm coming with my fingers nowhere near my clit. I literally had to bang my head against the stall wall (not too hard, but enough to smart) to snap me out of it and put me on track for the rest of the story.
But then you shoved your fingers bathed in my cum into my mouth and it was nearly over. My arousal had begun again and at full force. Thankfully, what came next would be my relief and and my refuge. Reading how you were fucking me hard and riding me like and animal, I rubbed and rubbed – my clit getting more aroused and engorged …. faster and faster. Both our bodies as one and rasping with moans from deep within. Feeling my body limp over the chair, your hands on my hips guiding your cock deeper within me and then out in just enough time for another ass slap to drive me over the edge. Faster, faster – harder! Rub harder! I’m almost there, my back against the wall, my head tilted to the left, my right hand moving so fast it’s almost shaking my clit free from my pussy. I had to make myself cum. As you piled into me again slamming the air from my body, I came – hard, just as I was imagining your hands keeping time with my hips thrusting your cock deep into my cunt.
There, in the luxury hotel bathroom stall the world paused for a moment to focus itself on me. Everything slowed … sound, sight all turned down one notch to the rhythm of my heart and throbbing pussy. I closed my eyes and licked my lips to savor one last second before I had to return to my obligation. When I opened the stall, I knew I would have to join the real world again and leave you … my torturous, lovely, vigorous and sexy lover behind.
I await your return from the caverns of wherever you are, but hurry and come back to me …