My phone buzzed again and of course I knew who it was. It was placed strategically in front of me below the computer screen so that I could see any incoming messages without deviating too far from the work screen and the project I was supposed to be focused on.
The phone was buzzing constantly. It had been two months since Sita and I first met in New York and now we were messaging each other non-stop: she in New York, me in Tokyo. We messaged each other about everything: she'd tell me what was going on in the New York office, I would ask her which lunch I should pick, she would send pictures of herself in different outfits before going out or even to work, I would try to be funny cracking jokes, she would ask for career advice, I would send songs from artists that I wanted her to like. This was a message traffic going non-stop as long as at least one of us was awake.
Then there were the phone calls. We'd call each other most days, long calls without any particular purpose other than we both wanted to hear the other's voice. The phone could be on speaker while we each did our things at home, almost like a live-connection to each other. Sometime we weren't even talking, it was just a way of feeling close to each other in real-time, even though we were on opposite sides of the globe.
And then there was the sex. We had only had sex once, that cold January night in her apartment in New York, but that seemed to have triggered something in both of us. I had never "talked" sex much before, and Sita claimed not even to have had much sex before we met, but we were both now very focused on sex, having great sex, having sex with each other and this was suddenly a natural, core part of our conversations. We had only had sex once, but were clearly thinking of each other as lovers.
Sita could call me before she was going to bed -- this would be early dawn at my end of the world and I'd be walking to the office through the busy streets of Tokyo -- and I'd suddenly realise as she was being quiet that she was touching herself. Making my way through the morning crowds, I would hear her through my airpods softly describe how she was lying down in her bed wearing a t-shirt and panties, put both her hands between her legs, let them slide underneath the panties.
And Sita wasn't satisfied just touching herself; she'd want me to help her get excited. She was in the midst of discovering her own sexuality and emotions were important to get her into a mood that would allow her to fully enjoy her sex. Hearing my voice helped her relax, helped her imagine us together.
But Sita would want to go further: she would want me to talk to her about what I wanted to do to her, in as much graphic detail as possible. So, as she'd lie in bed in her dark New York apartment, eyes closed, lips slightly parted for short breaths, and her hands and fingers rubbing her moist crevice, I would step into some less busy side-street and now my mind would be 100% on her as I'd start describing how I would lie down between her legs, spread them wide apart with my hands, so I'd face close up the sight of her wet, wide-open, pink pussy amidst a mess of thick, black pussy-hair all covered in moist and emitting this strong, musky smell.
I would tell her how I'd place my index finger at the entrance of her pussy, intrude it just a little bit, and then slowly rub my tongue up her opening towards her clitoris. And here I'd let the tongue rest, applying a just a little pressure on the clitoris. I'd listen for her breaths. She wouldn't say anything, but her quickening breaths would give away how she was losing herself in her sex. I'd begin moving in small circles, faster and faster, while I also let my index finger move in and out of her pussy -- not very deep, but gently and fast, this seemed to be what her body responded best to. Sita's eyes would still be closed and her mind completely focused on the sensations from her pussy. Her body would start shivering, her hands would reach for things to hold on to as she almost panicked, and slowly the long orgasm would begin to move through her body, as she'd grab my head and press herself violently against my face, rubbing herself, juices and bush, against it.
That way, standing on a side-street in the early hours of a Tokyo morning, I could her cry through my airpods as she'd cum. Then she'd relax again, send me a sweet kiss through the phone, before she'd fall asleep, and I'd go back to reality and enter my office building.
There wasn't much work being done today. Sitting in the office I looked out through the window high up at the Tokyo skyline and, in the distance, at the snow-covered peak of Mount Fuji and my mind was elsewhere. It was Thursday and soon it was time for the real thing. For the last week Sita and I had been planning our next get together. Work would naturally require me to visit New York and her to visit Tokyo on a regular basis -- we knew this was how we were going to be together -- but that was only once every 3-4 months, not nearly frequent enough for us.
Instead we had been planning a weekend in Bangkok. I was going to fly out tomorrow morning, but Sita was already at the JFK airport. I picked up the phone and read the message:
"Boarding the plane now. See you soon. I can't wait. I got plans for you ;)".
Twenty-four hours later I was making my way through customs at Bangkok's Suvarnabhumi Airport. I exited the luggage area -- no luggage for me, I wasn't planning to spend much time outside of the hotel -- and entered the Arrival's hall. It was tropically hot, packed with people everywhere, and it was the first time I was there so I stopped for a second trying to find my bearings.
Suddenly in the corner of my eye I noticed someone approaching me. And there she was, Sita! She threw herself around my neck, and I dropped my bag and hugged her hard. Then she looked at me -- I loved that beaming smile of hers -- and we kissed, passionately, tongues playing with each other, not minding any of the hundreds of smiling people surrounding us.
Our boutique hotel was in the Sukhumvit area of central Bangkok: full of hotels, bars, and buzz. Night was setting in as we checked in. We had sat close to each other during the taxi ride from the airport. Talking was always easy with Sita but sitting in the back seat, my arms around her, was also the first time we were together since that night in New York. Sita was dressed for Thailand. She was wearing a loose white shirt and a tight pair of shorts. I let my fingers run down the golden-brown skin of her thighs, positively surprised at her goose-bump reaction. Close to my chest I could feel one of her breast -- I knew those curves well. Looking down at her chest I could make out her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. No, she wasn't wearing any bra.
In the hotel lobby we were excited, holding hands, and kissing each other frequently, even while scribbling on papers checking in. We were restless, eager to be by ourselves.
Next thing we were in our room, a tiny box with basically just a queen-sized bed, a window towards the Bangkok night, a TV and a small bathroom. We dropped our bags on the floor and I pressed myself against Sita as we kissed, pushing her towards the wall. My hands went for her shirt, which I pulled out from her shorts and I felt her naked waist, belly and moved quickly up to her bare breast. I cupped my hands around them, large, teardrop shaped. The nipples were hard and erect.
This was the most sensitive part of Sita's body, and she responded like clockwork, panting into my ear and whispering:
"I love you".
I pressed my tongue into her mouth. We both struggled to breath. I let my hands move down straight to her pussy, feeling it up and down outside her shorts and already warm and obviously wet. The shorts were elastic and it was easy to reach behind and feel her ass, and placing my hands on her buttocks I pushed her against my cock. Her hands, meanwhile, where still around my neck as we kissed.
Then she broke free. She looked at me without saying anything and walked over to the bed. There she sat down, pulled her shorts off and threw them on the floor. She kept looking straight into my eyes as she began unbuttoning her shirt, which she then also threw on the floor. Then, fully naked, she moved back up to the middle of the bed and lay down, without her eyes losing contact with me for a second. On the white sheet her brown body was exposed in all its curvy glory: her long, black, messy hair partly covering her face, her large, rounded breasts with the nipples protruding, her wide hips and long legs. And then she raised knees, moved up her feet close to her ass, and opened them wide so her pussy came into sight.
The pussy, a glistering pink line amidst the bushy black pussy hair opened towards me. At the bottom it opened up towards the dark interior of her anus, and framing it all was her large, round ass. Sita, still looking at me, put a finger in her mouth and then moved her hand to her pussy and parted the lips.
"Do you like my pussy?" she whispered. "I want you to eat me. Please eat me. Please."
I awoke from my freeze, quickly slipped out of my own shorts and t-shirts and, fully naked, sat down at the edge of the bed in front of her ass and pussy.
I grabbed her ankles and spread her legs wide. Then I buried my head in her pussy. It had been two months, but her body, her eagerness to explore sex, had taken me to a sexual dimension that had been unknown to me, and her pussy was so exciting to me. She didn't need any additional stimulation -- we had both been building this up for hours -- and I pushed my tongue as deep into her vagina as I could. My nose, my face was buried in her moist, hairy pussy and she moaned as I drew circles around her clitoris.
"Oh, eat me, please eat me, I'm all yours".
