I heard the familiar "whoosh" sound, telling me that someone was sending me a message. I figured at this hour, it would be Alex. And it was.
We greeted each other and I told him I was super horny because I'd been watching some videos. I found quite a few of them from one guy in particular. He was obviously into other guys. Most of them were similar with him restraining them in some way while he used his hands and some oil to edge them.
One in particular stood out in that the other guy was tied down to a bed so he couldn't move much. His cock was being worked on by the hands of the other guy. You could occasionally see that guy's shirt and his bare arms but nothing else of him. In fact some people thought that guy was a woman. They referred to him as "the woman" in their comments. His gender didn't really matter. He was nothing more than a generic arm and hand.
The guy on the bed was being edged for at least a half an hour. I suspect it was longer because they kept taking breaks in the video. So many times he came close to orgasm. He would squirm and moan but the guy stimulating him would suddenly take his hand away then begin stroking his tummy and chest in a soothing fashion while telling him to shush.
When he finally let the poor guy cum, he used his hand to massage all the hot creamy cum back into his cock and he would not stop stimulating him. The poor guy was really squirming now. Bucking and crying out and trying to get away. But he couldn't.
"Tell me about it", said Alex. "What turned you on? How did it make you feel?"
I told him that while I wasn't really into cock and ball torture, but that one act of continuing stimulation after orgasm has always been something I love to try to do. If the guy really balks or protests, I will stop. But it's always fun for me to try. I also love edging, but most of the guys I have been with were not into that at all. In fact most of the men wanted the stimulation to be fast and hard so they would cum quickly.
I added that while I was watching the video, I was fantasizing that it was me on that bed. Tied down and teased until I was begging to cum. And then shushed and comforted instead of being allowed a release. Then when that release finally came, having the stimulation continued for a very long time, forcing me to cum again and again until I was exhausted and then some. Just thinking of that made me so wet that my computer chair was damp.
I also told him that I had been writing a story for a friend and that left me horny too. The story was just submitted for publication but I did show Alex a couple of paragraphs to see if he liked it. The guy I wrote that story for is Alexander. Similar names, yes. But they are two different people.
"I'd like you to write me a story too! A story about the fantasy you just told me of. Submit it for publication so we can all read it."
I told him that I would write the story for him the following day as it was getting late. And we were both so turned on by then that sexting seemed like a better option than writing another story.
I drifted off to sleep after having so many orgasms that I lost track, and visions of that fantasy wafted through my dreams.
The next day, I was dancing. I often do that at night. Dance for a song or two then take a break. Answer a message or two, post in the Playground a bit, and go back to my dancing. People are used to me doing that. I had on my short black nightie. It's a simple design. It comes slightly above my knees, no sleeves, V neck with a black flower embroidered at the upper left. Black ballet shoes adorned my feet. Even though the room was cold, I needed to wear something like that because I tend to overheat when I dance.
I also know that certain people sometimes watch me when I dance so I try to wear something nice. And this night was no exception.
The song ended and I could hear my gardener in the kitchen. He has new boots that are heavy and I could hear him clunking about on the black and white vinyl floor. I walked in to see if he needed anything from me. He lives on the property but we share the kitchen. He was packing some snacks and drinks to take with him. There's not much call for a gardener during the winter. He does handyman type work as well but those jobs were few and far between so he was delivering food at night for a well known delivery company.
He gave a big, devilish grin, a quick hug and told me to have a really good night. Then he grinned at me again, his eyes sparkling as he headed out back door.
I wondered what that was all about. The only times I have seen him grin like that were when he caught me doing something like sexting or talking on the phone to some guy.
And then I heard that familiar sound of someone messaging me. It was Alex.
He greeted then reminded me that I was supposed to be working on his story. I giggled and looked around as if I thought he could see me. How silly. He didn't live anywhere near me. He didn't even live in the same country as me!
"Okay Alex. I was dancing. I'll get to your story right now."
I plopped back into my chair feeling energized from the dancing. Took a swig of my hot tea and began thinking.
It's far easier for me to write a story about myself when it's a true one or at least partially true. Or even to write a story about other people. I can make up the details of their personality, how they look, stuff like that. But when I put myself in a fantasy, unless it's a fantasy involving another known person, I have trouble. The guy or guys are always generic in my mind. They may have eye and hair color but beyond that, they could be anyone. I wasn't sure if I should put Alex into this fantasy or my generic guy.
I heard a noise on the deck. It was the gardener. Apparently he hadn't left yet. I turned to see him waving at me through the drapes on the sliding glass door. There was that grin again! And then he was gone.
I felt an eerie sensation creeping up my spine. I looked up at the skylight as if it held all the answers. And I felt something brush past my right leg. I thought I saw something dark snake by me. Huh. I have a black cat but she never goes under my computer desk. My white Tortie does but she's one of those big poofy cats. I can always tell that it's her because she bumps me with her soft body. I could also see out of the corner of my eye that she was asleep on her perch.
I knew I had felt something. It felt almost like fabric. I glanced down at the hem of my gown. It was hiked up a bit in a haphazard fashion so it couldn't have been that touching my leg. I shook my head to clear myself of the eerie sensation and began to write the story.
I had typed out several sentences, backing over them each time and changing the details. How did I get into the bed? Was it my bed? How was I restrained? Who was the guy?
Suddenly I felt a hand on my knee. My heart seemed to clench in fear. I looked down. Sure enough there was a hand on my knee. But the hand looked oddly familiar. Where had I seen it before? A picture, yes! I had seen it in a picture. That very same hand was now resting softly on my knee. Alex? But it couldn't be. He had just messaged me. And he had messaged me last night too. But then, one can message from pretty much anywhere, can't they?
It couldn't be Alex. Could it? My heart was pounding. I started to open my mouth. I wanted to scream. But no sound came out.
