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From: Marie Durois <mdurois@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Secret Lover<*>(FM voy exhib)
Date: Sun, 2 Apr 2000 12:10:01 -0400
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Secret Lover<*>(FM voy exhib)
By Marie Durois
April, 2000
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my story, and I would
appreciate it if my name and my email address were
always associated with it. Obviously it has sexual
content. Any person who has problems with that should
not read further.]
We have never met.
And yet we are lovers, as surely as if your cock had
embedded itself in my cunt, your lips had joined with
mine, our tongues had entwined, and I had felt your
warm body next to mine - chest to breast, belly to
belly, hip to hip, groin to groin.
Who would believe that two people can be intimate and
never have touched?
We met on the Internet. How common is that story
today? I have heard of people finding the loves of
their lives that way, in that anonymous, miraculous
fashion where two people somehow find themselves
sharing something, even though they are thousands of
miles apart.
We met via a discussion group. You responded to
something I had written, a few paragraphs of a
personal nature. You wrote and said you were touched
by it. You encouraged me to try my hand at writing,
saying I had a gift for it. I said I had written my
whole life, but never fiction; I said I would think
about it. One email led to another as our dialogue
began.
We began to share who we were, first tentatively, then
openly, words flowing from our fingers to keyboards
across the Internet. The miracle of connectedness, two
quiet, private people who were somehow able to open up
through words. We began to share our hopes, our
dreams, and our desires. We discovered we were both
people who had ravenous sexual appetites, always
wanting more, but who still loved our mates.. We were
attracted by each other's intelligence and our shared
desire to reveal our most secret, innermost thoughts
in writing, privately, alone.
I thought perhaps you liked me when you sent me your
picture. I saw an attractive man in his late thirties,
thick dark hair, sexy green eyes, smiling. There was
something powerful about your look--the richness of
that luxurious hair, those large, intelligent eyes,
that thick fringe of eyelashes. Everything about your
appearance screamed sensuality; I wanted to reach out
and touch you from two thousand miles away. You were
compelling to me.
I sent you my picture, the only one I had in digital
format. And I told you a story about how I'd had a
torrid email relationship with another man who had
seen my pictures and thought I was attractive but, at
the last moment, stood me up after seeing me in the
parking lot of the restaurant where we were going to
meet for lunch. He later told me he didn't think there
would be enough "chemistry" between us. That
experience had hurt me deeply, making me afraid to
share with you.
You were kind and sympathetic and angry on my behalf.
You assured me that you were different than he was.
You reminded me that I deserved better than that
asshole. With gentle, kind words and a tender heart,
you drew me out with little typed characters that
arrived on my screen, many times each day, like a
stream of caresses, touching me, loving me from afar.
You told me I was beautiful.
And so we began. Two shy introverts, both analytical
and technical by day, creative by night, sharing our
thoughts and feelings and desires. Each successive
email you sent was better than reading poetry. Because
it was written for me. Then one day you surprised me
and sent me a poem you had written just for me. I was
incredibly touched. It was exquisite.
But we had to see each other. Words were not enough.
You had a digital camera and so were able to send me
instant digital pictures of yourself. I had only the
one scanned photo, not enough to really show you who
I was, so I ordered a small camera to attach to my PC.
While waiting for my camera to arrive, you began
sending me pictures of yourself. The first one showed
you fully clothed, in a golf shirt and jeans, photo
cut off at the waist. Handsome guy, the spark of a
twinkle in those eyes. You had that confident look of
someone who had always been good-looking and known it,
but without conceit. Just confidence that you were
appealing.
I wanted to see your butt and requested a picture of
it specifically. What is it about men's butts that is
so appealing to women? I knew you were athletic and I
was confident you'd have a great one.
You sent me a picture of back view, captured in a
mirror. Your butt was perfectly proportioned,
muscular, atop powerful legs, covered in dark hair. I
wanted to touch that butt with my two hands, to steer
you into me, to pull you deep inside me.
And then the gradual unveiling. You sent me more still
shots, like a gradual strip-tease, performed over
days. I loved your chest, with its soft, dark curly
forest. You looked so warm and touchable. And then a
coy shot, everything, except--
Finally you showed me all. You told me you'd been told
your penis was particularly attractive. I couldn't
imagine how. Until you showed me. And then I agreed. I
wanted to kiss it, to lick it, to touch it. I wanted
to taste that most intimate part of you as part of
knowing you. But most of all, I wanted it inside me.
I wanted to feel the way you feel when you bury
yourself up to the hilt; I wanted to feel how deep
"deep" is. I wanted you to give it to me.
My camera came and I hurried to send you a few still
pictures, to reward you for sharing you with me. I
showed you cleavage, and the heavy pendulums of my
breasts as I leaned over. I spread my legs and opened
myself up for you, for you to see my pussy, wet and
wanting you. Your responses were rapturous. I knew you
wanted me, as I wanted you.
Then I wanted to show you more. I wanted to share
myself with you, even though you could not touch me,
and all I could hear was your voice.
On a rainy winter day we logged on to the Internet
together and established a NetMeeting session. I
"called" you with my video camera running. Then I
disrobed, as you might have undressed me yourself, if
we were together. I pulled the warm turtleneck off to
show you my lacy bra. I removed my jeans to show you
my panties. I showed you my long legs, that some day I
hope to wrap around you. This time I performed the
strip-tease, in real-time, in slow motion, with you
watching from far away.
I began with my breasts, removing the bra, positioning
the little camera so you could see them well. Your
voice on the speakerphone told me how you loved seeing
me. I stroked them for you so you could watch the
nipples get hard, as you would make them get hard with
your hands and mouth if you were there.
Then I removed my panties. It took several tries to
position the camera just right so you could see my
labia as I spread my legs for you. I wanted you to
see my pussy, see that I was wet for you. I wanted you
to watch my clit swell up and my lips become engorged
as I pleasured myself for you.
I spread my legs wide, perching my feet on the desk
and table, to show you the secret me, wetness
glistening in the light, wanting you. The camera
showed a woman glowing with desire. My pussy was
spread open for you. I stroked it until my clit
swelled up and my lips became engorged. I did this all
for you, my lover, because you could not be there to
do it for me. And then I came -- for you. Across phone
and Internet I came, exploding in a wild orgasm,
wishing you were there to lick me to further delights,
to stick your cock inside me, to bury it in my depths
and fuck me to make me come again.
I became yours, even though we had never touched. I
gave myself to you that day. And someday you will
claim me in the flesh.
[AUTHOR'S EMAIL ADDRESS: mdurois@yahoo.com
Comments are invited.]
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Talk to your friends online with Yahoo! Messenger.
http://im.yahoo.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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