Introduction
Love and affection come in many forms. I've experienced them all, from the playful love through new experiences; the unwavering selfless love of a years-long friendship; and the deep, maturing love of a committed romance.
Throughout all these experiences has existed the delicious fire of eroticism. The burning passion of two ships passing in the night, aware of each other for only the briefest of encounters. An understanding gentleness, touched by the sweetness of childhood daisy-chains and shy first kisses. The mellow passion of a loving partner together enamoured through a life shared.
I have stories enough to fill a library, dear reader, a bittersweet mix of the traumatic and ecstatic, and I hope to regale you of them all in time.
For now, though -- a story of blossoming attraction and of newfound sensuality despite the distance.
Ch.01
I suppose we found each other, really. Shy and inexperienced didn't really explain just how nervous we were together. I was 18 and Nathan 20 years old, and neither of us had experienced much positive attention from our respective people-of-interest.
Our first conversations centred around shallow eroticism -- exchanging pictures, kinks, fantasies. I was attracted to his intelligence, his passion for literature and his imagination. All were spectacular to behold. He aroused me with the pictures he painted in my mind. I found myself shivering in ecstasy during many of our late-night conversations, fingers slipping silently beneath the blanket to tease my swollen centre.
After several weeks -- or maybe months -- of this delicious affair, we made the leap to video calls. I was surprised and just how attracted I was to him. Piercing blue eyes, a shock of black hair and the most adorable accent I'd ever heard. Nathan had managed to capture my imagination thoroughly. We talked and got to know each other properly -- discussing books, politics, science and art. We found ourselves continually aroused, flirting and teasing with tell-tale inexperience.
Our sessions of self-pleasure were an open secret, something we pretended to ignore out of misbegotten shyness -- until the time came when Nathan asked if he could watch me. My heart leapt into my chest with a potent mix of anxiety and arousal. I enthusiastically consented, and I could immediately see him shift slightly to adjust the hardness beginning to tent his shorts. My one condition was that that I could see him.
The little red dot on my laptop showed my camera was on; I knew he was watching me, drinking in my form and hungrily waiting for my next movement. I switched off the harsh main light and instead flooded the room with warm yellow from the desk light, reminiscent of sodium bulbs. The laptop sat on the bed and I angled it as best I could, desperate for his approval.
Swaying slowly to the internal beat of my favourite song, I slowly pulled my shirt above my head, revealing first the pale skin of my stomach, then the lace of my bra. I heard a gasp and the camera panned down to reveal the soft rasp of shorts sliding over his hardness. It certainly wasn't small, and as his hands stroked over it, I felt my skin tingle with excitement. I wished, not for the first time, to touch the soft skin, feel it twitch in my hand, hear the gasps and groans of pleasure so close to my ear.
Distracted from my internal fantasy, my shirt was discarded carelessly on the floor with the swell of my breasts clearly visible. I caressed myself, slipping my hands over the lace, before turning to face away.
I could hear his breathing, and Nathan stroking himself. My nipples hardened, pressing against the lace -- aching to be touched. I released the clasp on my bra and let it fall. All he could see was my bare back, my dark hair reaching my waist, and my skirt clouding his view of everything beyond my hips.
"Fuck. You're a tease."
"Ask me nicely, then," I whispered, my confidence growing with every one of Nathan's pleasured breaths.
"Please, show me. I want to see you. Please."
