Letters Iv Continued

Writing the shared doc stories was one of my most exciting sexual encounters of my life. I was writing as if the characters were representative of each of us, our purely imagined selves. They happened to meet in the digital space, but in many ways much more intimate and real in my mind. To me, I was Luke and you were Lacy, but 💯 mental. For me this 💯 mental experience was more real than any physical one.

From your brief comments on literotica, I infer this was not your experience. I believe you, and because I see how little you associate with the goings ons in those stories, it diminishes the intensity of my memories of those experiences. But not to any discernable decline that would inhibit any fantasy that might arise in the meantime.

It's also because of this, that I fantasize that you actually were just as turned on by our exchanges as I was and subsequently my arousal is still extremely heightened. Every time I lay down to masturbate, I begin my journey in the place and time of which our correspondence on that shared doc occurred.

There is one in particular that I like to revisit. It is a public scenario. I wrote it. We are on a public bench along the pathway of a big city park. On the perimeter are tall and modern apartments and condos, which, during the twilight hour, were all lit from the inside exposing their contents to outside voyeurs.

We were making out on the bench, at the same time we we're watching a hot couple making out on their balcony.

Public exposure, humiliation, and voyeurism are some of my most fantastic imaginings. Like you're wearing a summer dress, no stockings, just smoothly shaved legs and a pair of pink vanity fair panties. I tell you to spread your legs and hike up your dress, show anyone walking by or looking down from their balconies to see your fresh smooth thighs framing your perfect pussy.

I would be standing on a facing balcony, close enough we can see each other's faces. I would be smooth from eyebrows to toenails, nude, and holding my clit with my thumb and forefinger, slapping my smoothie balls. And all you need to do is sit on the bench exposing yourself, not necessarily to me but to anyone who takes the time to notice. And you watch me play with myself. The thing that really drives me wild is that you encourage me, without encouraging me. You are reading a book that you love and it's nothing for you to sit exposing yourself and enjoying your reading. You don't care if I am masturbating for an hour because for you it is no effort at all. You understand all you have to do to arouse me to the edge of orgasm is to allow me unfettered access to what lay beneath your sexy summer dress.

You seem to be unaware of how real those experiences were for me. I shared things with you I never have nor will ever share in the future. Aside from the anonymous and random blowjob that I give every couple of years. But those mean nothing if I never get to share them with you. You are my keeper of secrets.

That is another extremely arousing aspect of those experiences, not just the shared doc, but the recording you made, the video clips and pics, and the assignments you gave all added up to unquestionably my most exciting sexual relationship in my pretty long life. And being able to share them, and have complete faith and trust in you makes it so much more valuable.

I know it hardly registers with you, so long ago, and seemingly surface level engagement, you should know how affected I was, and to let you know how grateful I am for your generosity during that time.

I had no idea you'd read my stories. That you liked them, and knowing now that you'd known all along is even more arousing. I mean, I spoke in metaphors, still do, when I talk to friends, and you must have seen through the metaphors, knowing my deep dark fantasies. So fucking arousing.

Now, my fantasies have altered, to include this new information. I have a whole variety of fantasies I can derive from this new information. In a strange way I believe you are still aware of how you are affecting me, and you encourage me, but in oh so very domineering and subversive ways. It's every time I lay down now. Something new for us to do.

I set up my position. Two body pillows and a big stiff pillow wedged in front. Then I stuff the base of my vibe into the point where the big pillow meets the bed with the tip pointed at a 45° angle straight at my perineum and then I lower myself down onto it as it sends vibrations through my pussy and clit. I start off with full battery power, and i set it to low vibe and just swivel myself down onto the cock. I am repeatedly saying your name aloud. I begin to review the sexiest stories, or look at the old pics or video clips I'd sent you.

I love watching them in order. There are many that I never sent. I was embarrassed, can you imagine, after all I'd shared with you, how could I have been embarrassed? If you want, the old place has a new name, scranton. If you want to know the addy leave a comment and I will put the pw in so you can see. I have pics there too that you may like.

But most of the clips you've seen. I like watching the one where I pour my sperm onto my face and then ejaculate over the front of my Lilly white chemise. I watch that one on slow motion and I personify your presence and speak to myself as if I were your embodiment. I command myself to eat my sperm for you. It encourages me and on occasion, when I'm having an extraordinarily good edging session, I can control my ejaculate to such a degree that I spend hours slowly milking myself and eating my sperm. All at your behest. And all in my mind. I honestly can't think of a better scenario. Aside from the obvious, which would be to find another source, but that seems implausible, given what I've already experienced, and how closely I've been able to recreate that experience in my mind, I'd say I've got plenty more to imagine. I mean, having sex with another person, physically, sounds preposterous now, after such a fulfilling sexual experience as Id already had with you.

I mean to say, that in terms of "spankbank" content, combined with a vivid imagination, I much prefer this to getting mixed up with another intolerable match. I actually look forward to my Friday night off from the kids, looking forward to seeing you in my fantasies and edging myself to the utter brink just to bring forth a shaft full of sperm as I catch it with my vibe and deepthroat my cock for you.

It's so hard now, to eat my own sperm. I was so flexible, even into my late 40s I could throw my legs up over my head and shoot sperm directly into my open mouth. Now, I edge myself while I slowly grind my perineum onto my ever increasing intensity of my vibe and work myself up to a frenzy and ready and willing to ejaculate, and then I ruin my orgasm and squeeze out a spurt or two or three onto my fingers. I lick them clean and soak them with cum and saliva and then rub my shaven balls like it's a pussy. Like you see in porn, the women seem to like the taste of their own sperm so much that they salivate onto their fingers and then they finger themselves, that's how I feel.

I mean to say that in order to eat my sperm I have a whole other step, whereas I was accustomed to taking it straight from the source, now I have to ejaculate onto something, my fingers or vibe, and then I have to convince myself that you would want me to eat it all and that helps me. Once I get a big shot of it in my hand I rush to capture as much as possible and while it's still hot I lick it clean. I'm still hard then and I restart the whole cycle until I'm so amped up that I am able to ejaculate another two or three shots and the taste of cum spurs me onwards and decreases the time it takes to cycle through another round because by now I just want more cum and I am shouting your name out loud and ejaculating all over myself. It's this part I need help with, this is the sperm I need to eat and I need your help.

Sometimes I can conjure up the courage and swipe as much sperm as I can and stuff my pretty mouth with four fingers coated in my sperm. I feel so sissy when I am able to overcome my fears and embrace my submissive sissy, but then it dissipates and I clean myself up with my t-shirt and then throw the whole mess in the washer.