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I wake. I don’t know the time nor what I was dreaming. I’m not really
awake yet, and it seems very natural that my hand should move lower,
between my legs. I part my thighs and arch my back a little. My eyes
are still shut, and it’s so cold out there, I don’t want to leave this
small part of warmth here under the duvet. I don’t want full
consciousness yet.

I sigh. My fingers trace my labia, then part them. I slide one finger
inside. I’m already a bit wet there, and I trace myself, spreading
that slippery wetness. It brings out more, and I feel a single pulse
deep inside my cunt, that ache to be filled.
I push my hips up, towards my fingers, but I won’t let them descend
fully yet on my clit; I want to prolong this, just as you would.

Now up. To my clit, and I gasp a little and bite my lip when I get
there. It springs up as it always does, grows plumper, more sensitive,
more slippery. One finger, rubbing, dreamy slowness, circles soft,
then more firmly, then soft again. . .

I slow down. I don’t want to come too soon.

I slide a finger inside myself and clench around it, and then I bring
my fingers up to my mouth and taste myself. I don’t why but the taste
changes, I don’t know if it has to do with where I am in my cycle, or
with diet, or some other weird alchemy of body and mind. There’s
always a similar note though, I think there must be for all women,
some individual scent and taste that is the base note for all our
variations. I don’t taste or smell quite like my one girlfriend’s cunt
did, nor did she smell or taste quite the same all the time. I lick my
fingers, and now I open my legs more, as I bring my fingers back.

I could come very quickly, and sometimes I do; those orgasms that are
had for the relief of tension, or on the edge of falling asleep. Or I
could spend three hours, break out the toys. Not today, neither of
these. This is the waking up kind of wanking.

On my clit now, again. Slow circles that bring me suddenly so close, I
did not know the edge was right there, and I have to stop, before
going on.

I’ll bring myself to this edge 3 or 4 times, coming to the cliff and
then backing off from the plunge. I don’t dread falling, I long for
it.

My hips press down now, rocking in their own rhythm. pushing me
forward.—and then I come, and shudder helplessly, I shake, and there
are no thoughts now, the blackboard of the mind wiped purely clean. My
thoughts fly, scatter like sparrows, my mind empties like that
abandoned wire against the sky, and ll I am conscious of now is pure
sensation, the wetness coating my fingers, the heat of my cunt pulsing
around them.

I’m helpless now, opened up in more than the physical sense, and
though I have scrupulously not thought of you, not at all, nor of
anyone . . . This is when I am suddenly filled with your voice, as I
come, although I don’t want to be, at all. I’m flooded with the image
of you kneeling here, your tongue slipping into me, the rough velvet
of your tongue gently and urgently tracing these soft folds, while
your fingers open me to you even more. How I’d push upward against
your tongue, my hands on your head, my fngers gripping your hair, as I
lift my hips to help guide the chalice of myself to your lips. I push
these images away from me as quickly as they occur, yet not quickly
enough. I can close my mental eye to these images and banish them, but
I don’t seem able to control what I hear, and it’s your voice that
stays no matter what; it invades me and undoes me as I come, as I
shake. I’m inundated with it, like drowning, like diving.

I can’t drive it out. I cry out, in coming, I can’t ever help that,
and as the memory of your voice saying my name fills my head I think I
come harder, because of it.

I lie still in my bed after, heartrate and breathing returning to
normal, hand still between my legs. I hold onto myself.

I don’t think of you but you’re here all the same.
I open my eyes.
Wake.

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My bed. We’re naked, and I won’t let you any longer be above me,
despite how I love and crave to bear your weight on top of me.

I reach a point where I need to be on top, where I can no longer bear
this gentle teasing.

I straddle you, and take your cock in my hand. You haven’t been inside
me yet, but you will be, and now is when I need to kneel over you.

I take your cock between both my hands, and kneeling above you I use
it. I trace it along my naked and bare slit, so you can feel how wet I
am already there, and I tease you and me both by rubbing your cock
now, gently, the head of it, on my clit, parting me at last.

I love my body, this source and root of sensual pleasure, and I also
don’t like my body, of course, –does any woman?–but I know you love
it, and you love for me to be on top for this reason also, so you can
look at me. I watch you, and I close my eyes when I drag the head of
your cock over me, and smile, and not because I don’t want to watch
you but because I know you love to watch me, my face, like this, lost
in our pleasure, dreaming, drowning.

Lost; drifting in the underwater world.

I want you inside me now, I need that. I open my eyes, I watch your
face, your eyes, I lift; I straddle you, I hold the head of your cock
just between the lips of my cunt. I want you to feel the heat, the
wetness there.

I want you to beg me, before I let you in, just a little.

But now you grab my hips and I catch my breath. I think you’ll pull me
onto you. I think you’ll impale me.

You don’t.

You pull me upward instead, towards you, towards your mouth.

No, I say, involuntarily. I always do. I can’t only take pleasure, and
I have to say no, when someone gives me it.

Yes, you say. Gently, urgently. Yes. You pull me by my hips, that one
arm wrapped around them, you pull me towards you. You position me
above your mouth.

I shake, I tremble, I shiver.
I grasp my headboard. I’m kneeling now above your face, my thighs spread.
If I did not cling to the iron of my headboard, I would fall. I hang
on, and my knuckles are already white, before your tongue ever touches
me. I already feel naked and vulnerable, before you open me, as I
kneel over your face.
I already feel split open, and already I am wet; then your tongue parts me.

Your hands are on my hips, holding me firm above you. Your tongue
probes me, opens me.

I melt. I run like melting ice. Unlocked, I flow.

You open me with your tongue, while your arm is around my hips; then
one hand snakes up, and while your tongue is against my clit the
fingers of your other hand suddenly part me, open me fully.

You sink one finger in, and then two, while you kiss me. You kiss my
cunt, my clit, you make love to it with your tongue, your lips, and
your fingers sink into me at the same time, obscenely opening me,
spreading me for your hungry mouth, penetrating me, taking me.

I cling to the headboard, I want to lift myself away from your mouth’s
knowledge of me, from your ownership of me, I want to hide. But I
can’t escape. I can’t escape that tongue–you hold my hips still and
unmoving, firm, in place.

I shake.
You hold me steady.

My arms tremble, like all of me. I can’t do anything. I can feel how
wet I am–how wet you’ve made me. I feel it running down the insides
of my thighs. I feel it against your cheek, which is against my thigh.
I can feel how I am drowning you and drenching you with my cunt. I
cannot help it, this is what you do to me, this is me, coating you,
your face.

I can’t bear it.
I feel the tender abrasion of your cheek against my thighs, that
roughness there because you need to shave again, and as if my own
thought passed through your own mind at the same instant, you turn
aside suddenly, press your lips to the hollow of my inner thigh, kiss
me, and then bite me gently and carefully, expertly, there, a lover’s
bruise I’ll find in the morning, blooming on that most pale and
delicate secret skin.
I feel the muscle there jump and quiver as your lips touch my thigh,
and I know you feel it too, leaping under your lips and mouth, like my
pulse, my heartbeat there.
The tenderness and intimacy of this caress alone almost undoes me,
makes my heart melt too, running over everything.

You pull me down now against you, you want me to let go, in every
sense. You want to devour me, you want my cunt pressed against your
face, I hear you inhale greedily, I feel you drink me, and your hand
and arm try to pull me down even more.
I can’t.

I need to turn around. I can’t bear this. I can’t bear to only receive
and not give pleasure, and I need to twist around. I need to lie on
top of you, I need to have your cock in my mouth now–if this must go
on, I need to have you in my mouth too. Please.

It’s the only way I can go on, with your tongue against me like that,
with my secret heart laid bare and beating and open to you.
I need your cock in my mouth. Please.
I need your most secret self laid bare and beating in my hands.

I take your hands in mine, I peel your arm off my waist, though you
resist. I pull away. I twist, I pivot on your fingers still inside me,
and I lie down on top of you. I hold your balls gently with one hand
and with the other I touch your cock at last, gently at first because
I savour that initial gasp I tear from you, and because I love to
touch you gently at first, before I settle down to the real business
of making love to you, of fucking you. I stroke your cock with my
fingers lightly from bottom to top, and I place my tongue against that
exact place on the head of it–you know the one—-before, with a
sigh, I take the head of you into my warm and waiting and wet mouth.

I taste myself and my desire there, on your cock, mixing with the
taste of your own.

This is the same moment when your lips wrap around me again, around my
clit, and I must close my eyes at the same time as my lips close
around your cock, and I shudder on top of you for an interminable and
eternal instant as your hands hold my hips, your thumbs opening me,
spreading my cunt open for you, splaying all of me open for your
mouth. I must shake and cling to you like this, before I can go on,
distracting myself from the pleasure you give me by the pleasure I
know I can and will give you.

Now.

Now we can begin.

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I’ve been asleep when he calls me. Doesn’t matter, I think I was
dreaming him anyway. I close my eyes and let his voice wash over me.
I’m leaving, he says, I’m out the door in a few minutes, I just had to
hear you….I know this. We’re greedy. Always skating right up to the
edge of whatever time limit we have…and always then a little over.
We’re both always late for everything now. Even more than before.

I’m naked and warm under my duvet. He asks where I am, and I tell him.
He can picture it, remember me. Are you going to come for me later, he
asks, and I tell him, yes, as soon as you have to go. I want you to
think about that while you’re going to X, I tell him.
I have to come, I can’t wait for tomorrow for you to fuck me again.
The voice on the phone slows down, drops a register.
Yes, he says, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.
I can’t breathe now. Tell me, I say. My thighs are a little open, and
I’m holding my hand just over my cunt. I can already feel the heat
there, without touching, the heat he brings out in me. Tell me what
you want me to imagine, right now.
Let’s see he says slowly. He’s not above being a little sadistic with
me. I think he likes to prolong it, the moments where he still has
control, before I can make him equally helpless. I both hate and love
this helplessness he makes me feel.
Keep your eyes closed, he tells me
Imagine I’m standing there over you, watching you.
I’d have to take my cock out. I’d have to be stroking it.
Tell me where you want me to come, he says. Tell me where you want my cock most.
I tell him.
I gasp a little. I can’t hold back, and while he’s been telling me to
imagine him stroking his cock, I had to give in though I hadn’t
planned to. One finger gently parting the swollen lips of my pussy,
there is so much wetness there now. I imagine how it’d look to him. I
drag the tip of my finger over my clit and I shudder. I know he hears
it in my breath, and can hear it in my voice, that shiver. I can
picture with my eyes shut how his hands would move on his cock, and
it’s just how I would picture with him here. I’m teetering on that
edge, before i lose all self-restraint. In another minute I’ll
surrender all control over what I do and say.
I want you to imagine me, I tell him.
I want you to watch me.
I want you to imagine me with my legs flung wide, one hand holding
open my cunt so you can see everything, how much I want you, how wet I
am, my fingers on my clit.
Like they are right now.
This is what I want to do with him, to be flung open, all petals
opened, to be known. The layers of my self and of language peeled back
to the shining core. My body a husk split open. It rises in me, around
me like water closing over my head, and I want to know you he says
sometimes, his cock plunging into me, and yes, yes, I gasp, pinned on
him, squirming. I want to be known, to know him and sometimes all this
frantic and relentless plunging seems like the pursuit of something
else, this hunger that is never sated, always more. When he comes into
the core of me and I shudder around him clenching on his cock it feels
like that.
So I want him to see everything, I want him to see me with my cunt
splayed wide, opened for him, in the same way that i would kneel above
his face, let him taste me, know me.
I want you to watch me, I say, I want you to come on me. I want his
genetic code written on me–will you come on me? will you tell me
where?
I know he will have to leave. I can’t stop though, and I know I’ll
come as soon as he hangs up…

The warm voice in my ear is rougher now, lower, between a growl and a
sigh and he says oh christ [O] i have to get my cock out…oh fuck, i
have to

Yes, I say, desperate now and I can’t talk. Yes. Please. I can’t
swallow. I can see in my mind’s eye his gorgeous cock and his hands on
it, I almost think I will faint, if I weren’t already on my back I
would have to lie down.
(I want him to come on me. I imagine it dripping down me, around my
hand. I can almost feel it now, beacuse I’m wet like a river, and I
can almost smell us together. I can almost smell him in my bed with
me, the way he wakes sometimes in the middle of the night and
hallucinates the smell of me on his hands.
I want him to come on me, I imagine it. I want to rub it into myself
and lick my fingers while he watches. I want to let him watch me touch
myself while it runs out of my cunt. I can’t understand these urges,
new to me, but there is something about the way I want you that makes
my imagination turn completely pornographic. We start out teasing but
it’s like we never have enough of each other, the foreplay falls away
in this headlong rushing plunging through space, like the way we can
never bear for you to give me your cock an inch at a time, always that
need for complete union, for you to thrust into me and bury yourself
in me ballsdeep.)
Wittgenstein is wrong; there is a private language and this is what we
are speaking now and so I cannot write it, and when he comes I can
feel it, i can’t help coming too, I always come when he calls me like
my body and spirit are being turned inside out, caught up like a
washcloth, shaken and wrung out by something larger than us. Lying
here gasping and coming back to myself, apart yet not. Only connect.

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I’m on my hands and knees. I tilt my hips up, but I want to tip them
up higher. I have to drop down so that I’m on my elbows and my face is
in the pillow. I can’t support myself with just my hands; my arms will
shake too much, because all of me is trembling. The same way I can’t
come standing up unless he holds me up, my knees and all of me goes
weak, liquid, hot.

His hands hold me open, his hands on my ass, splitting all of me open
for him to take, see, know.
I don’t know what I will feel first, or where. I want this, this sort
of exposure, and it also frightens me in a way. I hold my breath, or
try to. I feel this naked and vulnerable with him anyway, all the
time, this is only the physical symbol of that.

What I feel–it’s not him opening me with his cock. Not yet.

He lays his cock against me, against my open cunt, the tip towards my
ass, his balls against my clit. He rubs his length of his cock between
and against my opening and wet lips. Not inside me yet, he just wants
the shaft against me, to feel the heat and wetness generating there.

I reach back. I need more contact, I take his balls on one hand and
press them gently against me, my clit.

(this is when I begin to lose control over my silence.)

He’s teasing himself, but also me.

I feel him pull back, I let go, there’s suddenly cool air there
hitting me, where his cock was. Then the head of it. Just pressing
there, against my clit.

Show me, [O], my lover says, use me.
Use my cock. Show me.

I reach back. I don’t speak. I don’t have words for this. I take his
cock in my hand, the heft and weight and thickness, the bloodpulse of
it, and I press the swollen head of it against my clit. Slippery, hard
also, wanting.

I know [X] loves to watch, and needs to see my need, not only feel it.

I rub him against me and feel his hands tighten on my ass and hips,
his fingers digging in, I hear his intake of breathe, the choked gasp
like the one I’m making, have been, smothered.

I turn my face against the pillow, I know he wants to see me.

Now I’m teasing me, but also him. Up, down, around, getting the head
of his cock shiny slick, wet, moving down and rubbing it against me,
where I’m opening. I dont push him in yet, I pull back, up, to my clit
again.

Then I have to. I guide the head of his cock to me, I press him in.

Just the head, stretching me open and invading me. It takes a minute
always to adjust to that, this penetration of one’s most secret self
my another, no matter how much you want it and are ready and aching
and demanding it. Even though it also feels most natural, like the key
turning in a lock, something built to fit, there is this moment of
invasion and acceptance.

He pushes in, giving me a moment to adjust, take him in. One inch,
two. The thickness of the head, the slight dip after it, then the
thickness of the shaft, only one inch.
Count.
Breathe.
Open.

More. Give me more of you, now.

I want more. I want him to press ahead. I want all. He stops, waits.
Breathe.
I feel how wet I am, how it runs out of me. I reach around. I take the
rest of his cock in my hand. I push back on him.When he slides into me
now my hands find the metal of my bedstead. I need to hang on to
something. I have to. My fingers wrap around the metal, my nails bite
into my hands. I know he can see my hands clutching, cam see my
knuckles are white. This involuntary movement also tells him I want
him, and what I want, just like my hips and ass thrusting up against
him tell him as surely and truly as any words I might say.

This is the other language, the body-language, the one lovers are
fluent in and speak secretly and privately and only to each other.
It’s the language of rhythm and pulse and throb like that of the heart
that keeps beating even when we want it to stop; it beats I am, I am.
It matters but it also doesn’t matter in this instant that he also
fucks another, because this is our language of need for each other,
and no other.
Inviolate, he violates me.
What is desire like, for men? For me, for women I think, it’s this
sudden awareness of this absence, this hollow, this need to be filled,
this emptiness that didn’t exist before. Suddenly we feel it, suddenly
it exists, it did not exist until we wanted someone. Now it’s there,
an ache, a hollow, sudden, piercing.

It’s like love in a way, the need for one specific Other, suddenly, to
be complete. Something not-us and once not-known is now essential,
necessary.

Now he fucks me, driving deep and slow. Pulls my hips back onto him
with each thrust, feels me pushing back, yes, now, this, deep.
Not pulling his cock out of me all the way, only pulling back an inch,
thrusting again, he needs to be in me deep, all the way.

I tilt my ass up for him, I want him that deep, it hurts and I want
that hurt, that pain when he hits my cervix, that mouth there hungry
also. I love to be fucked like this, and I love it when he fucks me
like this, because he splits me open, fills me, I love his cock and
need it–this cock, this man. This cock is beautiful and the largest I
have ever known, it hurts, fills, rends, gives pleasure through
pain–but it is attached to this man, this one, and I want both just
this deeply. Like this. Inside.

Inside me, the tight secrecy of the self split open, apart. This is
why I need him to fuck me like this, ass in the air and my cunt and
ass opened to him fully, all of me opened and splayed wide for fingers
or tongue or cock. Any of them, anywhere. Fill me.

Now he pauses, pulls back. The head of his cock still in me, and i
want him to plunge in again, to drive deep and deeper still.
I also want his cock in my mouth, I want that too.
Or to feel him pressing against me opening up my ass. to feel his cock
nudging me there, prying me open with just the head, I cannot take
more yet but I want to take all, but I love to feel him coming in me
there, I love how his come will run out of me after, I love the pain
and the way I will feel his cock in me long after, that memory of
being joined when we’re not.

I’m waiting, how will he fuck me, where?

Make me whole, fill me.

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It’s too hot to sleep. I twist my hair up off my neck and sleep naked
under a cotton sheet with only a fan, but I still wake up. In the
still close dark the sheets are damp and when my hand drifts lower i’m
more hot and more slick there. I remember you here and over me, I
remember you winding your hand in my hair and pulling, making me arch
my back. I can hear your voice that clearly now, that murmur behind
and above me, I know what you need, right before your hot mouth finds
the back of my neck and you thrust yourself home, inside me.

Eyes closed now I dip one finger inside myself. Hot, wet, swollen, and
also tight. I remember you behind me in the shower. We’d lit the
candles and left the lights off and you knelt behind me, making me
lean into the water pouring over me, sluicing over the curves of hips
and breasts and ass. You lifted my breasts from behind, weighed them
in your hands, pulled and pinched the nipples until I pushed back into
you. You made me lean forward, elbows on the slick wet tile. You knelt
behind me and I felt you cupping my ass and opening me, my cunt and
ass both exposed to you, to your gently persuading fingers and probing
tongue. I ground back on your face, the way now im grinding into my
hand, remembering you.

When you think I’m quivering and wet enough you slide a finger into my
ass, following your tongue. Then i feel the plug, slippery. You spread
me open, and it hurts to feel it slide in, but it’s this hurt I
welcome and stretch to accomodate, eager. Now your hands on my clit,
slippery, you play with me. Taking my hand and guiding my fingers
inside my cunt, you tell me to tell you what it’s like, you make me
feel it. How the geomoetry of my cunt has changed, how I can feel the
rigidity of the plug and its ripples through the walls of my cunt,
narrowing that passage, making it tighter, this familar smoothness now
alien, different.

Oh, fuck, I gasp, please–I don’t know what I’m asking for, but you
answer me anyway. Yes you tell me. I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to
give you my cock.

On the bed you make me lie down and then slide into me, an inch at a
time. Your hands tighten on my hips. Standing alongside the bed with
me stretched across it, my legs dangling off it, you slide into me,
watching my face. One inch and then withdrawing, now two. I almost
can’t bear this feeling of fullness, of being taken and penetrated so
thoroughly, in two places. This is mine, you’ve said to me before
about my cunt, and it’s true; I come when you tell me, and I come for
you, but now I feel it in a way I have not before. You do know what I
want, I want your cock, I want to travel farther, travel faster, to
push the limits of sensation of myself and breach the shells that hold
the self. I want to transcend time and place and circumstance. This
thing that means you wake with the taste of me on your mouth and the
smell of me on your hands, the way that the sound of my voice invades
you in dreams and you hear me with you in stillness, in church,
especially in church, the same way that when I listen for the light
within it’s you I hear.

And when you thrust into me all the way, filling me entire, stretching
me open I wrap my legs around your hips, pulling you in deeper,
shuddering under you, you fall forward, taking my hands in yours now,
holding them over my head, long deep slow thrusts now, for as long as
you can bear, until you stop and pull my legs up, bend them, plunge
into me as deeply and as desperately as you want, no restraint now, I
hear the shower still running, the slap of our wet bodies, my sounds,
yours. When I beg you to let me come, to tell me to come, you keep
fucking me hard and fast, you ask me teasingly if I’m sure, if I’m
ready. I scratch you now, nails digging in before I remember not to, I
want to bite you and instead I pull your hair, yes, I say damn you,
yes–
Come then, come for me now O you say urgently, come for me like you’re
falling, come on my cock now baby

and I do, and i hear you swearing while I come on you and around you,
these blasphemous and also transcendent prayers we mouth imploringly.
I feel you trying to hold back, and then oh jesus, you say, and I feel
you start coming, hot spurts, I want it running out of me afterwards.
You’re still hard and you fuck me with smooth deep slow strokes into
coming again, I’m shaking. I don’t think I can come like this, all of
me stretched open and filled, but you make me, you won’t pull out or
take the plug out, I clench around it, falling.

I come like that now again, remembering you, falling. I fall into
sleep with my fingers still dipped inside me, like you did.

Story from our beloved little O from eros-logos.blogspot.com. She is back!
Weeks ago now and you are gone, but it always takes me so long to capture what’s important.

We’re at the restaurant, waiting for a table. You’re leaning against the wall, and I have my back to you a bit. I am always slightly nervous in public with you. This vibrating line between us means that sometimes i can barely look you in the face in public, I can barely stand to be near you without touching you. I have the feeling of flight with you, and I have also fear: I don’t know where we are going, how fast, how far. I know you don’t know either.

You reach for me and your hands rest lightly on my hips, pulling me back into you, against you. I love when you hold me like this, I love the freedom your hands have to roam all over me, but I also loathe it, because I can’t touch you, I can only submit under your touch. I hold my breath, because I don’t know what you want: if you want to grope me in full sight of everyone, you know I won’t stop you. I lean back and your lips brush my hair, my neck. One hand trembles for a minute on my hip; I know that what you want to do is slide that hand up so that I can push my breast into your waiting palm. You grip my hips a little more firmly through the thin cotton of my skirt, and I can feel your cock getting hard, pressing a little against my ass.

And now you whisper in my ear:

I want to fuck your hot ass right here and fill you with my come. I want you to feel my come soaking your panties and running down your leg as we walk home.

Now my breathing speeds up, I know you hear the catch in it. I push back into you a little, subtly moving against your stiffening cock. I’m coming undone, and you are too.
There is this way we have, this thing between us, it means that the flame turns up right away. A word, a look, and it’s suddenly there, all consuming, devouring. Suddenly I am starving but I no longer want to eat. Why does this happen, why is it that for each of us, our desire veers straight to the utterly pornographic, when it comes to each other? I don’t know why, it’s something about being inside each other’s heads–but it does, and I love it, crave it, you.

I want your hand between my legs now in full view of everyone, sliding up under my skirt. I wouldn’t stop you, I’d close my thighs on your hand and come on you, crying out. I am afraid of what you might ask of me, because I am helpless with you, and I know you are with me.

Now you gently push me away from you a little, you tell me our table is ready. I am trembling and flushed and I can’t look at the server. I don’t know how I’ll walk but I do, I can feel that my panties are damp.
I’m not looking at you, I look down at the table and when I’m drinking the wine you ordered you lean over and tell me quietly what you want me to do.
My cheeks burn but you know I won’t deny you. I never do.

I get up and go to the women’s toilet and lock the door.
I balance on the sink. I pull my skirt up.
Don’t take your panties off, you’d said. I want you to just pull them aside.
I want you to come in them for me.

I pull the crotch of the silky fabric aside. I gasp when my finger parts my swollen smooth labia. I am already so hot, so wet. I’m thinking about you fucking my ass, I’m thinking about how you gently ease the head of your cock into my ass, how I cant take more than the head of you yet there, you are too big.
I want you to open your cunt for me.
I want you to take a picture with your phone and send it to me now, here.
I want you to show me your cunt belongs to me.
I do. My legs shake a little, holding myself open like this. My hands shake too sending you this.

You’ve made me come for you in public before, touching myself in a public place subtly, when you couldnt be with me. You havent asked me for this before though.
Send me a picture of how wet you are now.
Send me a picture of your fingers on your clit.
Show me how open you are for me already.

I do.
I take them all, everything you asked me for. I send them to you at the table.

I can’t bear to look at them even, but I know you’ll make me look at them later when you take me back to my flat before you give me your cock.

I text you, please call me, please let me come, tell me when.
I am leaning back now against the mirror, and I have two fingers inside my aching cunt when my phone rings and you whisper into my ear, telling me what you want…

It takes a long time for my breathing to slow down. There is a knock on the door and an impatient rattling now of the knob. I put myself back together.

You didn’t let me come and you didn’t let me wash those fingers. When I am back at the table I hand you my underwear, this silky scrap rolled up into a tight ball. You lean over and take my hand as I sit and you put my two fingers into your mouth. Your lips and tongue closing around them and sucking make me lean back in my chair and I close my eyes and shake as I lift my glass and the wine slides down my throat, it feels to me as if your lips were closing around my pulsing clit, and I don’t care who is watching us. What I feel is abandon, and when you lean over again I know what you say is true, and it’s only because you alone can get inside my head that it’s true when you say to me, your cunt is mine.

Methinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me. [. . .] and come a stove boat and a stove body when they will, for stave my soul, Jove himself cannot.

The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen
 
You are at the end of my bed, leaning against the wall, and watching me.
I close my eyes and your voice fills me. You are speaking to me. I love your voice and it enters into me. This is always true, that your words and your voice make me wet, whatever they speak about.
And has been true since we met. This feeling that we will come apart if we do not have each other soon. A current that underlies, always, everything that has passed between us.
It is always there, this erotic current, potent and compelling and drawing us, a tributary of a larger river. We know we could let go and be swept away…perhaps drown.  We’ve always known that if we once let go we could fall and never stop.
 
I open my eyes. I watch you.
I want to know you.
Everything.
I want you to know me. Everything.
 
I am lying on my back, naked, while you sit naked and leaning against the far wall.
There is sunlight pouring through the window and onto this bed, touching us both and binding us together, though we are too far away to touch each other directly. Still, the same light spills over us.
The way I want you to spill over me and in me soon.
Over my breasts, my mouth, my lips, even my face…I will open my mouth and catch as much of you on my tongue as you will let me.
I will savour your taste and every drop, every spurt, that you give me of yourself.
 
But right now we prolong this knowing of each other, this slow exploration.
I lie back and spread my  legs wide for you.
Your eyes hold mine….but cannot help moving over my body too, the same way you cannot help sliding your hand over your shaft, the same way I cannot help also watching you, your beautiful hands on your gorgeous cock. The cock that is so swollen now and longing. The head of it shines with precum and I want you to kneel over me now, and fuck my mouth, my face, my throat, but we won’t, not yet, not yet.
I cannot decide what I want more, your hands on me or your cock in me. I only know that I have to have you, all of you, and give you all of me without restraint– I want everything.
 
Again and again our eyes meet, we lose our selves in looking and then we find ourselves again in each other’s eyes.
 
I reach down to my naked, shaven pussy and with both hands, I slowly open myself for you as you watch.
I want you to see me, to know me.
 
I can feel the cool breeze over me there, and I can feel how wet I am. That wetness that I know you see there too now, pooling, glistening. I can feel it flowing more now, trickling out and soaking my thighs and these sheets, because you are watching me, while I watch you.
My clit has never felt so swollen and so in need of attention, that skilled attention that you or I could give to it now, but I will not touch it, not yet.
I see you swallow and I know what you are thinking.
 
I spead my legs even wider, even more, and I feel myself open and splayed now like a book for you to read, a book I give you.
I can feel that I am completely open to you now, you can see everything, and you can see the way I am split open for you like a fruit.
Something juicy and red and sweet and soft.
 
And still we wait.
I want to hold myself open to you like this, so that you know and can see–without words now–that I am giving you my desire, my lust, my self. So you know you can fuck me, possess me, in any way you’d wish.
I feel helpless not to do so, and I know you feel helpless too. It is like having no choice—except that there is.
I choose.
Always.
And—I choose you. You.
 
I am holding my breath.
This moment hangs here in the air.
This last moment before we lose all restraint
.
Now I close my eyes.
My thighs are trembling, already.
What will you explore me with first, I wonder?
And where?
Will it be your tongue I feel first? Or your lips?
Your fingers?
Your cock?
I do not know, but I want everything.
I will give you—everything.
The smell of the river floods the room, the smell of desire, already.
There will be time, there will be time, in this room, for everything.
 
my eyes are closed, my breath is caught, i can feel my heart beating and the insides of my thighs tremble. I wait.
I have faith.

Again, for, about, inspired by, created with, my lover P. We both came to this fantasy on IM, and I’ve recreated it here, for P first of all, always, and then for Daniel and Sabrina. And for you, Reader.

This is the sequel to Desire, posted here on 27th June, but you can read this on its own. And our story—P’s and mine—the story behind this story, the mask behind this mask, is at Eros, Logos.
http://www.mycyberaffair.blogspot.com

Your fingers inside me. My mouth opening to your probing tongue, just as my pussy does to your probing fingers. I don’t care that people may see now. But we’re hidden still by the tabletop, not exposed yet. Your hand underneath my skirt, your fingers deliciously probing me through the hole you’ve made in my torn wet pantyhose.
Your fingers burrow into me, and I stifle a gasp, as you mutter to me,
“God, what a tight cunt you have, O.”
Now I can’t hold back my gasp, both of shock at that forbidden word, and delight at your desire for me.
I take a deep breath, and try to keep my voice low, so we’re not overheard, and steady, though it wants to tremble—I say to you, “I want you to fuck it. To fuck me. Please…”
You’ve noticed though that my writhing now is likely to attract attention, that my smothered gasps will not go unnoticed for long, though this pub is dark, and our corner secluded.
You smile, lazily, and say, “I am going to fuck you very hard, O.”

I want to shatter your control. I need to get you somewhere where I can get my hands on you, my mouth…”I’ve wanted you since September” I whisper longingly. I can’t believe that you’re here with me, fingers buried inside me in this public place, the object of so many of my masturbatory fantasies since class started.

“And I’ve wanted to have you. And now–now I will.” you say, and suddenly your fingers leave me, and I’m left open, aching, wet—longing to be filled again. You trace my lips with your wet fingers before devouring my mouth again, both of us tasting my desire for you. I am overwhelmed by the intimacy of the act, and it makes me cream all the more.
You stand up and offer me your hand. I take it, still sticky from being inside me—I don’t know if I can walk, my thighs are trembling so! Yet somehow I do, and in the dark cold street outside you put your arm around me, holding me close to you.

“This way,” I tell you, “not far.” For you know of course that I’d picked our meeting place with this in mind all along. Taking you back to my flat.
We want to kiss in the street. To stop along the way, because as close as my flat is, we are so very hungry for each other. But we both know the risk. Being recognized. What are you doing, out walking like this, with a woman so clearly your student, and dressed so sexily?—So we hurry.
But we do have to stop along the way, once…scanning the street, seeing no university people, you suddenly pull me into the doorway of a closed shop, pushing me up against the door.
God, I can feel how hard you are, pressing against me, kissing me deeply…
And I lose my head. God I need you, right now. With one hand you pull my hands above my head, pinning them to the door, restraining me, and slide your other hand into the deep V of my dress, along my lacy bra, slipping under it, cupping my breast, teasing my nipple, rolling it. I can’t help moaning, you steal my breath away, my nipple springs up hard and aching, like my swollen clit, yearning for your fingers, your tongue…”Not here!” I whimper… “please, someone will see us…” “Yes,” you say, “and if they do, they’ll know what a whore you are, won’t they. They’ll know that you’re my whore…”
Yes.
I am.
And I want to be.

And that’s why, when you let go my wrists, I push you up against the door. I start kissing your neck, and fondling your cock, through your trousers. Cupping your balls and fondling them lovingly.
You lean back against the wall, eyes closed, moaning at my touch. Your cock is twitching in anticipation of what I’m about to do, and I love it.
I kiss you deeply, passionately, my hands on your growing, trapped cock, stroking you through the fabric. And I whisper, “I used to watch you in class, and dream of you fucking my mouth. Did you know that?”
“I dreamt of that,” you say, your voice hoarse. “I had to struggle not to stare at your pretty mouth.”
“And all I could think about, P, was finally doing this,” I say, and I unzip you and slip my hand inside your pants.
Your cock springs up, eagerly welcoming, aching, for my touch at last.
“So hard for you,” you gasp.
“Yes, I love it,” I say, “I love it that you’re hard for me, P,” while one hand reaches inside your pants slyly, to fondle your balls, and I stroke your shaft with the other. Your breath quickens and deepens, just as mine is.
And now I can’t take it any more, I need to be on my knees for you, right here, in the street. I have to have it, now. Even with people driving by who might see, even with people leaving the bars and walking by—I need to be on my knees for you, and I ask you, “Please, P,”—I plead—“can I taste your cock now? Please…” I whisper this in your ear, kissing your neck, my hands stroking you, teasing you.
“Yes O, suck me,” you say hoarsely.
“Swallow my cock”
Your hands caressing my ass now, pulling up my skirt, exposing my ass clad only in torn, wet, sheer black nylon pantyhose. I am exposed, and I don’t care.
I want your cum to run out of me, soaking my pantyhose even more.
“Please, suck me.”
I drop to my knees, and smile up at you, teasingly, seductively, as your hands move to twine in my long hair, to hold it off my face, so you can watch me, watch your cock. Moving in and out of my mouth, shining wet. But first–
Slowly and deliberately I run my tongue just once, up the whole length of your swollen cock, from base to tip, making you gasp.
“Oh, just one thing, ok?,” I say, holding your gaze.
“Yes, anything,” you moan, watching me.
“Promise me you’ll cum harder than you ever have in your life.”

You smile down at me, “ I don’t think I’ll have any choice about that,” you say.
And I wrap my lips around the head of your cock at last, I’m so eager, so desperate to taste you, to have you in my warm wet loving mouth.
I don’t care that we’re exposed like this, that I’m on my knees in this dark street, as you clutch my hair and gasp.
Because I need you. I need to taste your precum…mmm, salty, delicious…I need to taste your cock, feel it on my tongue, filling my mouth, my throat. God it turns me on!
You can’t help thrusting into my mouth.

I can’t tease you, I need you too desperately, and I wrap one arm around your hips, your ass, pulling you into me, encouraging you to thrust, telling you without words to fuck my mouth, my throat. Pushing your hips away, and then pulling you back, encouraging you to take me, to use me.
And you do. And I love it, I love it, I want you to cum, please, let me drink you…I can feel your balls tightening, I know you are already ready, wanting to cum, pour it over my tongue, down my throat. I feel like I could cum from just that, it excites me so terribly! Oh, cum for me lover, let me taste you, please…
But then you stop me. No!
“I want to cum in you, O,”you say, your voice shaking,“Darling, I need desperately to fuck you. Now. Please!”
I’m thrilled and frightened and ashamed, all at once, but how can I possibly say no to you? When I’m so wet, so aching for your cock?
“Yes”, I say, my voice shaking too, I can barely speak, “Yes, now. Please, oh god, please…” I don’t think I can stand, but you help me, I lean against the door, and you pull up my skirt over my hips, exposing me, and you plunge into me, through my torn hose, slamming me against the door. I can’t help crying out, as we fuck savagely, though you slide so smoothly into me, because I’m so fucking wet now. Battering me, your cock sinking so deeply into me, ramming against my cervix, causing me such sweet agony and pleasure, both at once.

And I’m lost, utterly. I don’t care who may see, I don’t care that there are people walking by on the other side of the street, I don’t care that cars are driving down the street, some slowing for a minute, some not, I only want you to not stop, not stop, until you cum in me, hot spurts filling me, and I cum with you.
I don’t care–Because I’m your whore, you’ve made me your whore.

O