The chair rocks when I lean back. It's one of those black ergonomic jobs with sturdy armrests and wheels. The rug keeps it from rolling too freely. Usually my legs are curled up in the seat. But now I've braced my feet on the struts that support my computer table. I've fiddled open the buttons of my flannel cover up. Underneath I wear nothing as I'd planned on going to sleep. That plan had been abruptly derailed when I began reading a delightful bit of fantasy that you had mailed. As I scan the lines of text I'm both a little surprised and a lot aroused at the rough words you've used. They suggest a primal undertow that really turns me on. I click the mouse button with one hand. The other slides across the skin of my chest, skimming down to cover my breast. I massage the soft flesh, causing goosebumsps to rise and my nipples to harden to stiff points which I roll between my thumb and forefinger. Text continues to scroll across the screen. "Oh... wow." The heat between my legs intensifies as I feel the tingle of very real need. I continue touching my breasts, teasing the nipples with saliva slicked fingers. I let the glistening wetness of my slightly spread pussy lips increase until I can barely stand it. I forgo the rest of the story. I need both hands to satisfy the rising desire your words and my imagination have conjured. Finally, I stray below the waist. I drag my fingertips along my outstretched thigh, allowing my nails to tickle the sensitive skin in the crease where my leg joins my body. I shiver when I draw my fingers up my slit. They come away wet. Lightly coated in the dew produced by my fantasy. I grope to my right and open a dresser drawer. With minimal fumbling I fetch the Torpedo out of it's hiding place. I toy with my wetness. Sliding my finger up and down, pressing a little further between my lips with every pass. My head drops back when I press on my clitoris. God, I wish it were you touching me. I wish I could kiss you while your fingers were coated in my juices. The image excites me even more, evidenced by the rush of increased wetness. I rub the tip of the vibrator along my slick opening. Holding myself open, I ease it inside. I bite my lip to silence my moan as it fills me. A fine sheen of sweat almost immediately appears on the skin between my breasts and on my stomach. I begin moving my hand, stroking the vibrator in and out of
my cunt. My imagination takes over. This is you inside me. Instead of the rubbery, fake skin of the vibrator I feel the silky smooth ridges of your cock thrusting deeper into my body. In my fantasy I can touch you, taste your skin, wrap my legs around you as I grind against your hips. Oh Jesus... I'm pumping faster now. Wishing I could feel your heat... Feel you slam harder against me as I make you lose control. Your hands curve under me, guiding my movements, trying to slow me down. But I don't want it slow. I want it hard and fast. Now. I twist the dial on the end of the vibrator with fingers slippery from my copious leakage and sink it as far as I can inside of me. The sudden vibrations send a shock through my entire body. You are held deep inside me. I hear your hoarse groan as you press against me. I feel the pulsing heat as you come. God, oh God... I'm panting the words over and over as I orgasm. I rock back further in my chair, my heels on the edge of the seat. My eyes squeezed closed, trying to prolong the fantasy... But there are no warm arms to hold me. I smell of sex, but it's not the same. There's no long warm you to hold in my arms and no hot breath to feel upon my cooling skin. I sigh and stand up, the still buzzing Torpedo in my hand. I have to go clean up now. A small laugh escapes my lips as I look down as the chair I just baptized in a very unusual way. It's a miracle that I didn't fall off the damn thing and break
my neck! |