I love touching my pussy. I love the feeling of my most personal effect in my hand. I love bringing myself to orgasm by playing with my pussy. I love the feeling of being in charge of my own happiness. I love feeling my silken gift at my fingertips, and the feeling of intimacy that it provides for me.
I've also had to learn to love all of those things.
I've come to love them over the last several years, as masturbation is my only true sexual outlet right now. I haven't had sex since my divorce, a little more than a year ago. We usually only had sex, say, during halftime of a game, and it was normally short enough in duration that each of us could take a shower before the second half begins. He also never bothered to go down on me. I asked, of course, but he refused to do so. Honestly, it made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin that a man, who said he loved me and found me sexually attractive wouldn't do that, yet normally would guilt me into doing it to him. To me, that's the ultimate showing of lust; putting your mouth on a place on someone else's body that you know it simply should not go. That is the absolute peak of craving another's skin. For me performing oral on him, however, it was never lust. It felt more like a chore.
This is my life now. Granted, I have two teenage daughters, whom I love dearly, and they are my reason for living. My marriage, however, was never a real marriage. It always felt more like a business arrangement. I know my husband loved me; it's just not the kind of love that I needed, nor that I wanted. I can't remember the last time I felt truly wanted by him, in any form. I also think he usually thought of someone else every time he was with me.
This is going to sound conceited, and so help me I don't mean for it to, but I know that I'm attractive. I know because I've been told that my entire life. I'm in my early 40s now, and men, as well as women, have always been attracted to me. I've never suffered from lack of attention. I'm a blonde, around five feet tall, with large, beautiful, and natural breasts. I also have great skin, and nice facial features. I know I'm attractive because my ex-husband's friends have hit on me, even while we were still married. One of my girlfriends hit on me once, and even total strangers hit on me. I know it sounds immodest, but when you're told something over and over by many people, you tend to believe it.
For the record, I never, ever cheated on my husband. The opportunities to do so were numerous, but I always honored my commitment to my husband. I don't have to leave for work until two in the afternoon, so I always had mornings and early afternoons all to myself. My daughters are in school, husband was at work, so I'm home alone all those hours. There were a couple of occasions that the temptation was nearly overwhelming, but I always resisted.
Thank God for the internet. What an amazing tool it is; it's a library, it's a store, it's a party, it's a toy. All rolled into one. The unlimited possibilities that exist on the internet never cease to amaze me. It can also provide a great social outlet for those who aren't able to interact with people for one reason or another. Some people are shut-ins, some are horribly shy, and others are true life 'desperate housewives' – like myself.
Several months ago, I began visiting an online message board for a TV show that I enjoy. I liked reading other people's comments on the show, and what they thought would or should happen next. Some people on the site I found more engaging than others, and I even managed to make a friend or two. Granted, those friends were in other states, and in one case another country, but it was always nice to see them online, and to talk with them. Then, I met him.
His screenname is irrelevant. What is relevant is the way I began to gravitate to him. I would see certain things that he would say, and he struck me as very intelligent, a quality that is sexy in and of itself. He also struck me as very sexual, and he also had a sense of humor that was all his own. Things that he would say online would set him apart from the rest. His line of thinking rarely fell in with many others, but that's what I liked about him. He tended to be somewhat ambiguous when he spoke of himself, so he was quite the mystery man. He and I exchanged a couple of posts back and forth, but nothing of significance; just small talk.
The online forum was set up in such a way that people could send private messages to one another. One morning, on a whim, I decided to send him an email. I didn't say much to him, just how I enjoyed reading his posts, and what he had to say. I waited for a couple of days, and there was no response from him, despite him being online since I'd contacted him. Finally, I got a response from him.
"Thank you for your nice words," the message began. "I'm not good at receiving compliments, but I'd like to pay you one in return. I think you're sexy. I've never even seen your face, but I like everything I've read from you. You tend to not say much online, which tells me you might be the shy type. Maybe there's a tigress buried inside the kitten you appear to be."
He got me again. He said that he found me sexy, despite having no idea what I looked like. That comment did more for me than any I'd heard for a long, long time. It made me feel wanted, and appreciated for who I was, not how I looked. He began to intrigue me even more. I even found myself thinking of him while I masturbated. I envisioned this faceless stranger, having his way with me. Every time he typed something, whether it was addressed to me or not, I found myself more and more infatuated with him. One thing I didn't like about him is how far away from me he lived. I mapped it out once, online, and determined that it would take him 19 hours to drive from his front doorstep to mine – and that's if he drove nonstop.
Over the next several weeks, our online friendship began to flourish. We began exchanging emails frequently, as well as talking via instant messaging. Still, in all that time, he never once asked what I looked like. He even flirted with me, on top of that, making sexual innuendoes out of the most random things. Finally, I decided to take the initiative. I asked him if he would like to see what I looked like. "Sure," he typed back to me. I had a few photographs scanned of myself, so I picked the one I thought was best, and sent it to him. It was me, alone and smiling, looking in a direction just away from the camera lens. It could almost be construed as an artistic type of pose. I opted to send that to him through email, and I waited. He responded a few minutes later with a couple of photos of himself. One was simply a photo of his eyes, and nothing more. They were green and captivating, and the kind of eyes that spoke from the soul. The other was a photo of his tongue. His tongue was long, and it was tantalizing, almost tormenting. The text in his email only contained a simple phrase, but it was all I needed – "I want you."
That's all he said – "I want you." My panties got wet just reading them. Here was this man who knew so little about me, yet wanted to be with me. I wanted to be with him, too, so I told him as much. I didn't just want to be with him; I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to have his cock inside me right then and there. I can't remember the last time I wanted anyone so badly. I was afraid that being so open would scare him away, as men tend to fear sexually aggressive women. They can talk a big game, but when push comes to thrust, they can balk quite easily. I was home alone that morning as usual, but even as I typed the words to him, I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was around, even though I already knew nobody was home.
His response came quickly, and he felt no need to be subtle. "I want to fuck you, Kelly. I want to make you feel things that you weren't aware that you could feel. I want to put my cock in every orifice of your body. I want to taste your pussy for hours, until you think you can't stand it anymore. I want to fuck you until you can't even think. I want to come all over your face, your tits, your stomach, and inside your sweet pussy. I want to fuck you in every room of your house. I want to fuck you in public, for everyone to see. I want to fuck you in front of all your friends. I want to take you when you're not expecting it, and force you to submit to me. I want to make you my personal fucktoy."
I'd never been so hot in my lifetime. My panties got soaked at the thought of him doing all those things to me. My body felt alive for the first time in years, and my mind became consumed with thoughts of fucking this man whose real name I didn't even know. This wasn't me being a lonely woman, seeking fulfillment from any source. This was a reintroduction to primal lust. I wouldn't have known him if I walked right beside him on the street, yet my body burned for him. I excused myself from our online conversation so that I could fall to the floor and masturbate. I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. I absolutely had to come at that moment. I pulled up the dress I was wearing, opened my legs, and rubbed my clit as hard and fast as I could. I couldn't come fast enough. I felt my hand covered in my own juices, and I imagined those same juices covering my fantasy man's face. My orgasm came quickly, and it was vicious – I loved it. My body was radiant with my thoughts of this man whom I would probably never meet. As that thought washed over me, I suddenly became very uncertain.
For the first time in so long, I wanted something. I felt driven. I felt like I could be purposeful again. I'd been going through the motions in an unhappy marriage for so long, that I had lost my sense of worth. My girls always kept me going, but they didn't know how things were between my husband and me, and still don't. I found myself getting in deeper and deeper with this stranger, and now wasn't sure what to do. This was new territory for me.
A few days later, during an online conversation, he asked me for my mailing address. He said he had something he wanted to have delivered to me. I had still never heard his voice, or even seen his entire face in a picture. I was extremely hesitant at first, because even though I was enjoying this fantasy, he was still a stranger. I'd heard so many stories about people meeting in person because of their meeting on the internet, followed by horrible events. I told him I'd have to think about it. I wanted to, I really did. I told him I'd think about it, and that I'd give him an answer the next day.
After sleeping on it, I decided to take the risk. I know I'm a normal person, or at least as normal as can be. I determined that not everyone on the internet wants to come and kill you. There are people out there who are just as normal as everyone else, and are just looking for a place to go, so to speak. I decided to roll the dice, and send him my home address.
I sat down the next day, and composed a brief email to him, including my home address and phone number. I stared at it for a moment, nervously, and then clicked Send. The instant I sent it, I wish I hadn't. I became incredibly panicky, and suddenly wasn't so sure I had done the right thing. What if I had just made a huge mistake? What if I was wrong about him, and he did want to harm me or my family? The more the day went on, the more nervous I became.
A few days went by, and I hadn't heard from him. This had become the norm, but this time it was different. I was hoping for some kind of acknowledgement that he received my email or not. Maybe he was traveling for his job, or maybe his computer was on the fritz. Who knows? That brings me to yesterday.
I was at my computer desk yesterday morning, going through emails and just perusing the internet in general, when I heard a knock at my door. I got up, and went to the door to answer it – no one there. I stepped outside, to see if maybe it was a delivery man who had left in a hurry. Still, nothing. I shut the door, and returned to my desk.
He must have let himself in, and then knocked on the door from the inside, to see if I was home alone. I sat at my desk for a few more minutes before it happened. A man, wearing a leather mask came seemingly out of nowhere, and was running towards me. He wasn't speaking, but he was breathing so heavily, that it almost came out as grunting. He dropped a small duffel bag just before he reached me. I tried to scream, but I was paralyzed – absolutely paralyzed. He grabbed me, and threw me to the couch behind us, the only sound in the air being his heavy breathing. Only his eyes, nose, and mouth were exposed by the mask. Everything was happening so fast, though, I couldn't get a glimpse at his face. I thought I had woken up in someone else's nightmare.
