A Few Good Reasons to Share Sexual Fantasies
Hi! My name is Bianca. I'm sorry to send you this chain letter, but I didn't want what happened to me to happen to you. Three months ago I received this letter for the first time. I thought what you are probably thinking now – it's a hoax. So I ignored it. But I found out the hard way – this is for REAL!
Within a month of discarding the letter, I found it harder and harder to achieve an orgasm. I became sexually frustrated. By the second month, I quit having orgasms all together. I was sexually impotent. And after the third month, I was no longer aroused by any means. And believe me, I tried. I was completely frigid!
Luckily, someone else had kept the chain alive and eventually the letter made its way back to me. I immediately began forwarding it to everyone I knew. By the end of the day, I had masturbated six times in my cubicle at work. And now I fuck at least twice a day.
So please, do what the letter says. You may not be lucky enough to get a second chance.
This chain mail has been alive since 1886, when females decided to claim their sexuality for themselves. To keep it going, you must add your sexual fantasy to the tenth spot and delete the first one off the list. Then send it to as many females as you can. Within three weeks, you'll be acting out that fantasy. The more people you send it to, the more fantasies you will experience. Chicks in Chain Mail must survive. Your sexual health depends on it.
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1) Miranda, 33 Travel Agent
I want to go somewhere hot: an island with palm trees and slushy alcoholic beverages. There, I walk away from the crowded resort to a quiet stretch of beach. I feel so daring in my sexy little bikini - I would never dare to wear such a thing back home!
I lie down on my towel and feel the hot sun on my skin. Looking around, I make sure I am alone. My heart pounds as I consider the possibility. I could be nude. There is no one for hundreds of yards.
My fingers trembling, I pull off my top and skim down my panties. I quickly lie down on my belly, naked. The sun and heat feels wonderful on my skin. I pretend to be nonchalant, but in reality, my body is on fire.
And then I hear splashing noises from the calm sea, and I feel a rush in my heart. Someone is coming! Someone will see me naked! I am frozen with terror and excitement. It's too late to cover up. All I can do is hope they will see me and walk quietly by.
I sense someone approaching, getting very close, and I crane my head around. He stands above me. "I didn't know this was a nude beach," he says. He is a tall, fit man with a bright smile. "Do you mind if I join you?"
I feel trapped, I can't say no. My eyes are riveted on him as he lets his trunks drop to the sand. His penis is big and very, very hard. He lies down next to me, but I can't keep my eyes off his penis. "Do you mind if I touch it?" I ask him.
I am soon stroking its length, and he moans. I push him over on his back and climb on top of him. His penis prods between my thighs, and I lower myself down, feeling it fill me. The smell of coconut, sweat, cunt, and sun-baked skin surrounds us.
In no time at all I am screaming with an orgasm that wracks my whole body, and I feel the gush of his cum inside me.
When we can finally move again, we struggle to our feet and run naked into the ocean and wash up. With the salty water stinging our skin, we return to our private little spot, rub suntan lotion all over each other's nude bodies, and we drift off into a hot, lazy sleep.
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2) Cassandra, 38 Housewife.
From the very first time I saw Steven Spielberg, I've fantasized about having oral sex with him. I imagine myself spread eagle on the bed – my legs as far apart as they will go, my ass resting on a pillow. Steven slowly comes into view. He doesn't say a word – he just dives into my sopping pussy. He rubs his chin up and down my slit, raking his partially gray beard along my tender flesh. I beg him for more, but he takes his time, rubbing slowly, until his beard is completely saturated, and my labia are swollen and burning. Right when I think I can't take it anymore, he wraps his mouth around my clitoris and slurps it between his lips. I grab the back of his head and cram his face between my folds. I feel his nose against my cleft, his hairy chin scraping at my anus and his teeth nibbling everywhere in between. I erupt into orgasm. He lingers there until the last aftershock passes, and then he sits up, his beard glistening with my dew, and lisps, "I've got an idea for a sequel!"
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3) Helen, 34 Registered Nurse
He's an artist. A sketch artist. He's asked me to pose nude for him. I can hardly believe he has asked me. It scares me to think about being exposed for such a long period of time, but I still agree to do it. I want to do it.
I enter wearing a robe and nothing else. His easel is placed several feet away from a chair covered in velvet. He directs me to the chair. He slips the robe off my shoulders like a lover. I'm aroused all the more because of his deliberate attempts not to touch my bare skin. He has me sit sideways in the chair – one hand resting on the back of the chair, one leg dangling over the arm of the chair. He tells me to lean back, and my hair falls away from my back. He walks to his easel and stares at me for long minutes before placing his charcoal to paper.
He's naked from the waist up. The bunching of muscle in his forearm mesmerizes me as he makes long, flourishing strokes. My nipples harden with excitement. He doesn't seem to notice. He works furiously, eyes focused on me, eyes focused on his canvas. The air begins to sizzle with the sound of charcoal scraping paper. The time passes all too quickly.