It's hard for me understand. I've got to get a grip on myself. I've got to
figure it out. How can someone, so far away, a thousand miles or more, generate
such feelings. And yet I felt the ache, the moisture, the swelling.
It was a hot July night, humid, dark, without a moon.I had finished my bath
and slipped on my favorite old t-shirt. I turned the light down to where it
was just a faint glow. Expecting his call, I was sitting in my easy chair, one
leg thrown over its arm, my head laid back, my eyes closed when the phone
rang. The call started just like others. Where he was now. Where he would be
next week. We talked about our business, and our mutual hobby, computers.
We're both pack rats, always running out of space because we can't get rid of
anything. Always moving files and programs from one area to another, always
reorganizing. We spoke about a photo he had sent me of himself. But there
seemed to be something else going on. Something I couldn't quite put my
finger on, and then...
"Lena. Would you do something for me? One little thing?" A pause. and
before I could reply, "Would you touch your nipple while we talk?"
I felt stunned, like I had been hit. Not by a fist or anything violent, more
like a shock wave. Something was being pulled from me. Something I wasn't
sure I wanted to let out. I don't know. I can't explain it. I could feel the
heat in my face. My heart seem to beat harder or at least I became aware of
its beat. Would I do it? Could I reply?
"Ok." I don't know how long it took me to get that one word out.
"And would you imagine that it is my hands cupping your breast, holding it
up so that my lips brush the nipple like edge of a chalice."
A fog seem to enter the room. A mystic fog. I was becoming encased in it. It
was beginning to shut out the rest of the world. My hand trembled as it
moved up my shirt to my breast. I squeezed, held myself tight for a minute,
imagining it was his hand, his power that pressed against me. Then I moved
to my nipple, already hard, first taking it between two fingers to sense and
feel its response, and then beginning a soft stroking through the cloth.
"Ok". What was happening to me? I could feel his lips on me, gently sucking,
kissing. His teeth brushing my nipple. The heat of his mouth on my breast.
My hand reached to the back of his head and pulled him to me. He was there
and yet ...he wasn't.
I couldn't answer.
My mind pleaded, "No, please, no.."
"Now take you hand and touch your clit. Just touch it and feel me there."
My lips parted as my tongue returned moisture to them. My fingers moved
down across my mons, to the hood of my clitoris. My pelvis let me know of
its presence as a dull ache began to rise. Fear caused my body to shiver. But
fear of what? My fingers pressed against the hood and as they did my whole
pussy moved. A velvety moisture began to seep between my labia, their
swelling unable to keep it in. He couldn't see me but his presence caressed
me. I could feel his hot breath between my legs as I pulled the lips gently out,
massaging one against the other. How could I be doing this? I was losing
control. I had to stop.
"Now feel me."
I didn't know what to say. I had to stop and think about what was happening,
why it was happening. No harm was there and yet it was .
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"I've got to go now." I couldn't leave it at that. My words were a whisper.
"But I'll tell you something. Tonight, when I go to sleep, I'll hold one breast
and think of this phone call." My face was on fire.
"And that it is my hand?"
"And that it is my cock next to you, hard, pressing against you?"
"Good night Lena. I'll talk to you soon."
"Good night. Sleep tight."
I hung up the phone. My heart was pounding. My brain was swimming. My
clit was ablaze with its demand. My breast felt the pain caused by my own
unconscious squeezing, as my newly freed hand had fond its way beneath my
shirt. I was covered with sweat. My legs were now spread even more as my
other hand continued to slowly massage and stroke my pussy, sometimes
stopping and just holding it in my hand, pressing against myself. The
moisture first covered the labia and then the finger that gently moved up
and down between them. My vagina wept its tears as it wished my fingers to
its opening and then...inside. I could feel the ridges and their swollen
sensitivity. I didn't have to go deep. Response was everywhere.
I pressed my breast even harder as one finger began to move within me. What
would he be doing now. Would he be watching TV, his feet propped up,
having a drink or just brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed. Or would his
hand be moving up and down his cock, feeling it get harder, imagining it was
my hand or my lips stroking him? Could he feel the hair from my head
brushing against his legs? Were my nipples between his lips? .Were my fingers
sensing his swelling need, caressing his balls as the sacks softened in my
hand? Would his eyes be closed as he tasted my juices? Would his cream burst
out, covering his abdomen, my hand, my breast?
The fog is everywhere as I realize I am entering a new space, a mystic space,
a space of serene sensuality. What I seek will be mine. I can now take my
time. There is no urgency. My fingers move slowly, carrying me deeper into
my mind. The feeling in my vagina mixes carnal eroticism with pain and both
with a sense of soft floating. I'm a passenger adrift within my pelvis, my
pelvis afloat within my mind, feeling and experiencing from within. My brain
has become a sexual organ. My vagina, clitoris, labia, fingers, breasts, all
there, reaching for each other, coming together. My breathing is now deeper,
my heart pounding through my breast. And yet...I could stay this way for
ever. A rapture of sexuality has enveloped me.
I allow the orgasms to begin. I can feel my fingers being pulled inside. My
spasms erupt and then again, and again and again. My hands presses harder.
Still more and then more. I swim in an ocean of sensuality, eroticism, lust. I
am naked, and its waters bathe me.
The haze lifts a little. I realize I'm still in my chair. I've got to get
to bed. I've got a lot to think about. But not now. I seem to have lost control.
I stumble and reach for the wall as I move to the bedroom. All because of a
I lay between my sheets with a promise to keep. My hand cups and softly
presses my breast. My eyes close. I sigh.
Good night. Sleep tight.