Bethany

Copyright November 2008. Andrewxx on Literotica.com. No part of this story may be copied or distributed in any way without the written permission of the author.

Bethany, I want you to read this carefully. Very, very carefully. I am talking to you and I need your full attention. I am going to take you on a journey, a path of self discovery leading to your ultimate pleasure. Along the way, I am going to show you some new experiences and share novel ideas to fire your imagination.

You are sitting at your computer. Your carefully manicured fingers dance over the keys expressing your deepest thoughts and desires and committing them to the permanency of record. Your freshly washed hair cascades in front of your dark brown eyes and you deftly flick it away with a toss of your head. Your flowing mane obediently settles back and frames the perfect bone structure of your elegantly made-up face. As you type, an image forms in your mind. The edges of your lips curl up into a wicked smile and you wrinkle your pretty nose in amusement of what you are about to write. Your heartbeat is steady and regular, but as these first thoughts enter your consciousness, it senses the beginnings of your arousal and makes ready by pumping a little faster and stronger.

Listen to your heart now. Steady, soft, even, relaxed. But wait, Bethany, we've just begun.

The words form themselves as you look at the screen, not the keyboard. You remember your typing tutor but now your own Beacon shines. In the top left of the screen you see an image of yourself, taken by your webcam. Next to it, a larger picture of the man with whom you're communicating. You see his torso but not his face. You think to yourself, "Bloody coward. What's so shameful about showing yourself to me? Are you worried that I might recognise you, and tap you on the shoulder in the checkout queue at the supermarket? Not a chance, you're there and I'm here. We're both protected by the anonymity and lies of the Internet."

So you play his game and angle the camera so your face is also hidden from his view. Tantalisingly, you ask him his name, and what he wants. He tells you his name... Michael. He tells you that he wants you to unbutton your blouse. Slowly. Give him a show. Your mind plays the sequence again and again... it always starts this way. Then you remember the colour and design of your bra that seductively comes into view.

Go on... undo the top button of your blouse. Slowly....and the next one, and the next. Pause and think of me whilst you undo the final two buttons. Let your blouse fall open. Bethany, you're lovely. I can see your bra. Listen again to your heartbeat. Concentrate on your breathing.

Your red silk bra sets off the colour of your skin. The under wiring lifts and supports your 34D breasts and gently moulds them into a beyond-perfect shape. Your nipples are hidden from view but your mounds are clearly seen by your ardent observer. You look at his body on screen and admire his obviously youthful frame. His muscles are firm and tight, and you wish you could run your fingers through his delicate chest hair. You like that in a man. You want none of the poncey smooth-shaven boys that pussy-foot around sex. You want a real man; a man that can take you, almost possess you. You need a man that you can get lost in; someone who will take the responsibility for your orgasm and allow you the freedom to scream as you cum.

You caress your breasts through their entrapment and see your hands on screen as you watch the image of the man change. His hands are touching his body now, in synchronous movement with yours.

Touch your breasts, Bethany. Gently stroke them through your bra. Caress them and feel your nipples harden.

He has nice hands with long and dextrous pianist's fingers. You remember listening to your children as they learned to play the piano. It was years ago, yet only yesterday. His hands are smooth and you imagine them touching you, replacing the hands that fondle your breasts as you try to type and breathe and lust after the man, all at the same time. He asks you to remove your bra and show him your regal magnificence. You're worried about being a Rubens, but he's a Michael-Angelo and you internalise the joke. But he has paid, so deserves his reward. Slowly, you comply and undo the clasp at the front and the shape of the bra now hangs from your soft and round shoulders. Even with your low-resolution camera, Michael can still see and recognise your womanly perfection. You shake your body and the bra falls forward and to the floor.

Bethany, take off your bra. Do it now. Feel how your fingertips gently brush and catch on your hard nipples, accidentally, but maybe not.

You have full and firm breasts. Nature has blessed you with shape and form. Although you're almost forty years old, your body tells a different story. Your youthful vigour and good living has belittled your age to an advantageous seven years. So, you describe yourself on the webcam site, you're 32 years old, and you're believed. You don't call yourself by your real name. On screen you are Carlotta.

Michael leans forward towards his screen as if he can get closer to you. He wants you and needs you as you knead yourself. His image goes out of focus as he bumps into his camera. As he stands to re-adjust it, you catch a glimpse of the lower part of his body. His cock is erect and of a good size. You estimate a comfortable 7 inches. And it's a nice girth too. You think you could get your hand around it, but only just. As you continue to rub your breasts and tweak your nipples, he begins to rub himself again, this time he knows that you're watching him masturbate openly. His left hand cups his dangling balls and cossets them as his right hand masterfully controls his cock. It slides up and down, up and down, up and down, working with a strong, steady rise towards a climax. You admire his cock and feel almost jealous of his hands. You wish it was your hand cupping his balls and stroking his manhood.

You adjust your camera and focus it on the waistband of your short skirt. In this webcam dance to climax, you have regained his attention as he watches you undo the belt that hugged your midriff fall out of sight. And now your beautiful fingers easily manipulate the button and zip of your skirt. As it slips down your thighs, you wiggle your hips to aid its passage. Resistance is useless as it submits to the inevitability of gravity.

Stand up, Bethany, and take off your belt and skirt, but no more... not yet. I want you to wait and build up your climax, which you know you will not deny. How's your heartbeat?

You're wearing the thong that matches your bra. Normally, you don't wear any underwear at all, so you're ever-ready. But you're wearing the uncomfortable garment just to make a show of your figure. It decorates your slim hips with a fine silk string, and your pussy with a pink silk triangle. But whilst the bra silk was a plain fabric decorated with lace, the thong is a soft satin that catches the light. You feel the outline of your pussy lips through the fabric, and Michael is entranced.

Bethany, feel the outline of your pussy lips through the fabric. Take your time. Nice and slow, pressing gently but firmly into your mound. Keep going...don't stop - allow your pleasure to build.

As you caress yourself, your mind returns to the faster-moving hand holding the engorged prick on the screen. You can sense Michael's excitement as he can sense yours.

Are you excited now, Bethany? Well, if you are, move the cloth covering your pussy to the side and touch your lips with your fingers. Concentrate on the feeling of skin against skin. Warm, moist and musky, your pussy responds to your touch as your fingers explore the inside sticky folds of your labia.

Michael sees what you're doing and matches you stroke for stroke. As you rip off the troublesome textile to enable your needy thrusts, Michael's hand becomes a blur. You gasp as now two fingers enter you, deeply sloshing in your juicy hole. It's so rude. But you want more to put out the fire that rages inside you. A third finger stretches you as you seek your clitoris with the other hand that spreads open your hood to allow your thumb to pound your button on each stroke. The whole of your cunt responds to the incessant beating your hand provides. You continue onwards and upwards to manipulate yourself towards your climax. You are standing but your legs are weak and unsupportive. You collapse to your chair with your legs open, providing the camera and Michael with a view of only your pussy and hands... the rest of the world is irrelevant to both of you.

Think of my hand doing what yours is doing now. Think of my fingers moving in and out of you with my thumb on your clitoris. Think of my heart beating in time with yours. Visualise my cock being rubbed by you. Your wetness coats my hand as you cum again and again and we share the sound of your moans and the sucking sound of your pussy dragging me in, stroke after drenched stroke. Cum for me, Bethany, cum for me now. Let your body overflow with passion. Call out my name.

You look at the screen and see yourself pleasured by your own hands. Your pelvis bucks up to meet your thrumming hands as they draw your orgasm from your body. Your mind reels as you look at the screen and watch Michael pull his cock and drive him into a frenzy. His head is pulsing with blood and has turned a shade of plum. He has entered the purple zone. It wouldn't be long now. His hand felt like hers and his imagination ran riot as he watched Carlotta cum on his screen. She had a look about her that resonated with his soul. It was almost as if he knew her, despite the obvious fact that he was here, and she was there...wherever "there" was.

Are you watching, Bethany? Watch as he cums for you. You are his muse, his creativity, his idol, his goddess. He's cumming for you, just as you are again. Cum together with him on screen, and with me in your mind. Cum, darling Bethany, cum now, cum now. Cum, now.