With a Cell Phone and a Laptop

We've been friends for a while; unlike others I've met online, you don't feel the need to keep anything from me or hide behind a persona -- that means a lot to me. I like that I can talk to you about anything, that when I need cheering up, you always seem to sense it and know the right thing to say. I like that you can share your joys and tragedies with me. Over time our chats have shifted from being only about friends' topics into something more, and I like that, too...

We've been chatting for a couple of hours now, about how our days were, about minor and major annoyances. You know we're both feeling lonely. One of us -- does it really matter who? -- suggests a way for us to work off some of the tension and stress.

And so begins the story...

I'm sitting at my computer, and you're at yours, a couple of thousand miles and three time zones away -- the city of angels, so far from here! The scene is set; it's your fantasy tonight, and we begin by teasing one another.

I tell you what I'm wearing for this imagined tryst of ours: a silk kimono. You get hard just picturing it, don't you? You can feel how soft the fabric is, sense how the contours of my body must feel, as your hand lazily caresses me through the barriers which separate us. As we chat, my hands part my kimono, exposing the silhouette of a single breast; my fingers cajole my clitoris as I read the words you type.

Someone -- was it you? -- suggests we take our chat to the phone. You know I don't mind; we both love the additional sensory input of hearing the other, especially once we reach the throes of passion. Your voice whispers in my ear, caressing me with words of seduction. As I listen, I grow slick with desire.

Your voice insinuates yourself into my living room; my hands serve in proxy for yours as I listen and pleasure myself. Lost as I am in my own imagining of this shared fantasy, I don't notice the blinds of the sliding glass door are still open...

Perhaps it's a movement I catch in my peripheral vision, perhaps a sudden sense of watchfulness; but when I glance at the sliding glass door, I notice a figure standing outside, watching me.

"Oh, god!" I say into the phone. "There's someone outside!"

Your voice soothes, "It's alright."

Frightened, I begin to rise from the chair, the right side of my kimono falling away and exposing half my body to this stranger's eyes. The figure steps closer, leaving the shadows. Immediately, I recognize you...

The arousal of fear slowly gives way to sexual desire; I can't believe you're there, outside my home instead of where you should be, a single thickness of glass the only thing separating us. As I calm down from being so startled, I notice you're wearing a simple pair of sweats, and your hand is tucked inside the pants, obviously stroking your cock as you continue to talk to me. "Tease me. Dance for me," you command.

I gyrate my hips in a languid, elongated figure eight, which allows you a good view of all the pleasures I posses. You step even closer, the glass still conspiring to keep us apart unless one of us removes it. You place your hand on the door, as if doing so will make the barrier vanish. Nodding encouragement, you beckon me forward, almost within reach. Echoing your movements, I, too, press against the glass. Your fingers trace the outline of my form, your need evident in the way you eye me. As if knowing my thoughts, you say, "Open the door."

I barely have it unlocked before you fling it open, taking me hastily in your arms. Your hands roughly caress me through the kimono as you glory in the ability to finally touch me. "You aren't supposed to be here," I protest; but your actions and my response make a lie of my remark.

Your voice sounds different than it did on the phone; not unrecognizable, but somewhat altered. Your face, too, even though it was familiar to me prior to your arrival, is different from the one I've previously met. The disparity of what I expected and what stands before me isn't unappreciated.

You dressed as you did for ease of access, and you shed your clothes quickly so that you can stand bare before me; but you choose to leave my kimono on, at least for the moment. As your delicate fingers roam, you feel my nipples stiffen under the fabric which conceals. Our pleasured moans sigh in unison. Every touch seems to create electric sparks in my nerves, causing me to tingle with anticipation, excitement, and arousal.

Pushing me away, you state, "Turn for me. Let me have a good look at you." As I comply, your hand grasps the kimono, pushing it aside. Placing your hands on my shoulders, you stop me so my back is to you. You step closer, wrapping your arms around me so that your hands can fondle my breast and cunt. I can feel your engorged penis pressed against my bare back, your breath rustling my hair as you bend to bestow kisses on the sensitive areas of my neck. From our previous experiences and my admissions during our phone conversation, you know I'm already wet enough to accept your conquest. My desire, as evidenced by lubrication, is obvious to your nimble fingers.

You press your body against mine; your proud cock nudges me, forcing my flesh to yield to you. As you penetrate me, the welcomed shock of joining causes us to drop to our knees. Your body, leaning toward mine, pushes me down on all fours; your hands fondle my ass then move around to caress a breast and my clit. God! You know how I love to be fucked like this; I've told you so many times before...

Every stroke you plunge into me is a blessing and celebration of the synergy we create.

You shift, so that we're face to face. You long to watch me as you mate me. Your mouth covers mine, stifling my moans, which die in your throat. Your lips rain kisses all along my throat and collar bone.

You stroke deeper, harder, pushing into me as far as you'll go. I gasp and sigh at the mastery you demonstrate. God! How often I've imagined this; and, quite unexpectedly, it's come to pass...