Possession

I come into our chat room, and see him with another woman. His words are arousing, seductive, sexy as he plays with her.

My heart races, knowing this is part of our arrangement. That cybering sexually with others is just part of the game. But this time, my lust boils over, and I interrupt him. I tell him to meet me in our private chat room. He agrees, and I exit out of one site and click into another.

I wait in a private room, one for only two people, and shortly he appears. As he enters, I type furiously, feeling such a tangle of emotions I don't know where to begin. I tell him what I am doing, and as I type, one emotion clearly separates itself from the others; jealousy. Pure, unadulterated, full blown green eyed jealously.

I grab his shirt in my fists, shoving him against the wall, flattening myself against him. I kiss him ferociously, my tongue plunging into his mouth, searching for his tongue, finding it, biting it with my teeth. He responds to my aggressiveness with his own. turning us so my back is against the wall, his hard chest crushing me into it.

I tell him exactly what my body would be doing, what I would be feeling as he takes me. Its a hard, brutal, possessive kiss. He describes how he is sucking my tongue, kissing me almost savagely. How he feels my passion, my lust, my need for him obliterating everything, everyone else.

I describe how my nipples are puckered and hard, poking him in the chest as he kisses me. He tells me he is sucking my sexy full bottom lip. I do the same, then I bite his lip, hard enough to draw blood.

He pulls away suddenly, telling me he is gazing into my eyes, searching for what I am feeling. The intensity of our conversation is taking my breath away. I feel like the house could burn down around me and I would not move away from him, from the screen, from his words, his thoughts, his emotions.

He describes how he shoves me back, pushing me to the floor. I tell him how I land, on my bottom, legs spread wide apart, my nightgown riding up my long legs, bunching around my waist. I write how my cunt is dripping wet with arousal, lust, desire. We tell each other how hot we are, how the blood lust is surging in our veins, our words perfectly matched, completing each others sentences at times.

Telling me he is lying down on top of me, he describes his body. How rock hard his cock is between my legs, rubbing up against my plump, swollen pussy lips, his heart thundering in his chest as the lust builds. I picture him there with me, his strong male body covering mine as I look into his eyes, searching them, wanting to see what I feel reflected back to me in his.

He paints a picture of him above me, a drop of blood gathering on his lip where I bit it. The scarlet drop slowly drips down from his mouth to mine, and I can almost taste it. I savor the saltiness of it, and I describe how I would lick it off my lip, my soft pink tongue darting out, arousing, inflaming him further.

He tells me how he would take his iron hard cock in his fist, rubbing it along my wet slit, coating himself with my honeyed female juices. I tell him how I respond, my hips arching up towards him, my body begging for his possession.

He continues, telling me how he enters me, a hard, rough, forceful drive into me, plunging into my depths until our pubic hair is meshing together. Holding himself there, his powerful hands gripping me tight I feel it in my heart, feel him buried inside me, his male to my female, a glorious act of love and lust.

He describes how he would start to fuck me with hard, savage thrusts, his swollen cock head nudging my hardened cervix with every inward stroke. The words flow between us, both of us lost in each other, feeling something passing between us through the computers.

It has never been like this with us, this claiming of one another. I want him to brand me, mark me somehow, yet knowing it is impossible. Our relationship exists only in the world of cyberspace, our own private world we created from our first conversation. Meeting once, sometimes twice a day, the sexual games and fantasies between us are erotic, mesmerizing, addicting, showing me how much I have been missing in my serene, boring, almost asexual life.

Yet the emotions are painfully real. My love for him is endless, boundless, as complete as any real life love could ever be. The touching of physical bodies is the only thing missing. The feelings, the closeness we share, is a part of me, of my life.

Through our chats, he has given me back the gift of myself, the erotic, sensual, lust filled woman I was all along. Stifled by a cold, unfeeling husband, he awakens in me the parts of myself I have kept hidden deep inside myself for so very long. Its a rebirth, an awakening of my battered spirit. His love for me nurtures me, feeds me, restores me.

And my love does the same for him. Trapped in a passionless marriage, I give him his maleness back, his strength, his sexual power. We take each other further and further into the riches of sexual, sensual lovemaking. Each time is something new, sometimes sweet and tender, sometimes rough and hard, but always with love and caring.

Anything I suggest, or ask for, he gives, with no reservation, no doubt, no guilt. Everything he needs, desires, longs for, I give, unselfishly, freely, lovingly. Its a perfect relationship.

He moves on, telling me how he would be taking me, making me his once again, showing me with his body how much he loves me. I can only respond, taking him inside me, over and over and over. We describe our orgasms to each other, the minute details unbelievable in their completeness. I can feel him, smell him as he climaxes deep inside my pussy.

My own orgasm rockets through me with just a touch of my finger on my wet hard clit. I struggle to type now, my arms shaking and my stomach muscles quivering as the powerful release slowly fades. Most times when I chat I just type, not touching myself at all, but it is iresistable with him. The desire, the need to climax is overwhelming, as I know it is for him.

He describes how his cock would be jerking, flexing inside me, his creamy male essence pumping, spurting into my waiting body. I picture him there at his computer, his hand coated with that evidence of his lust for me, his cock still hard as he strokes it slowly, savoring the aftershocks as they ripple through him.

Collapsing on top of me, our hearts pounding, now we soothe each other, telling of our deep love for the other, asking what in the hell just happened between us. I can offer no explanation, only knowing that had it been in real life, it would have been exactly like this. He is mine, my mind screams. I don't want another woman touching him, ever, either in real life or in cyberspace.

Softly, he reassures me, telling me how special I am to him, how much he loves me, how the cyber sex is just play, it doesn't mean anything. And I believe him, sharing his thoughts. I play with others at times, too, but what I feel for him is totally different. He is the only one who has gotten into my heart and become more than mere words on the screen. I know it is the same for him.

We say our goodbyes, arranging to meet later that night. I know I will be there, waiting.