The server was down for two days, and I didn’t dare check my emails at work. But surprisingly I was still riding high. I decided to drive past the old Hornsby mansion on my way home from work because a note had come across my desk late that afternoon, an inner-office bit of intrigue actually, as my department’s chief assistant had lunch with her friend who just happened to be the assistant to the mayor. Apparently, the mayor played eighteen holes with the county board president Sunday afternoon. I thought briefly about the violent storm that rolled through and wondered why people played golf when a storm was coming and they had a very good chance of becoming a living—for a short while anyway— lightning rod.
The discreetly small bit of folded paper on the seat next to me said the powers that be were sending someone from the preservation commission to assess the mansion. That was good news. I had been inside the stately old place several times. It was perfect—no raccoon under the porch, no mold, sound roof, revamped electric, modern 1970s plumbing, and flawless foundation. My only worry was they might find it too small to adapt to any modern need. Parking curbside, I rolled down my window just as the man was walking to his car. I introduced myself and asked in a roundabout way what his findings were. I was pleased to discover he was pleased. He told me he had it on good authority that the county was looking to “refit the old place and make it a reading room and archive depository for the historical society.” I was elated.
In the course of the conversation, I began to notice little things about the man. For one, his hair was brown and had a decidedly chestnut quality to the color. He had sunglasses on, so I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but his skin was definitely bronzed. I licked my lips. The anonymous internet world I had so recently entered was bleeding over into my real life. Are you S? I silently asked him. Imagining this man was my shadow lover made my face and other things grow warm. Cursing the redhead’s complexion and the inevitable blush I knew played over my cheeks, I wondered if he could see the color behind those dark glasses. He saw something, because he stopped talking about the house and wanted to know about me, like what department I worked in, did I know so-and-so, would I like to get a cup of coffee sometime if now wasn’t convenient...
I wished I could see those eyes.
I said I would like that very much, but today wasn’t good for me. He asked for my number. I dug around in my purse for a business card and handed it over. He did the same with a handsome smile and grew more and more attractive by the second. I said my goodbyes and headed home with his business card on the seat beside me, musing on how a mere two weeks ago I wouldn’t have even struck up a conversation with an attractive man, let alone given him my real phone number. I had nearly a full-color rainbow going now. With a smile, I pressed my foot to the pedal and headed home… I had a scene to craft.
The enigmatic S wanted me to write a scene of mutual oral sex. This wasn’t something I could piece together from old movies like I did for the kiss. No, I would have to rely on my own experience. I had only had such a sexual exchange with two people in my life. Dan never got the hang of it and we abandoned the attempt after our first try. He didn’t realize that foreplay was essential to a woman, orally or otherwise. No sooner had he started with clumsy, groping hands than he’d finished and gone right to seeking his own enjoyment. The thought hit me then. I had never had an orgasm with Dan that I didn’t produce myself.
Remembering my short-lived romance in Greece, I sighed. That was real. I trembled, I shook, I think I even cried out in the throes of passion. It had been glorious and he had been magnificent. My heart fluttered over images I had stored away, keepsakes of wild romantic love and hot sizzling sex. A man who knew how to really make love was a gift. That man was like Christmas morning.
I took care of all the little after-work things that needed to be done then treated myself to a long, leisurely bubble bath in the dark, complete with scented candles and Sacred Arias playing loud from the stereo speakers down the hall.
Closing my eyes, I lay back and conjured images in the hot steam.
I remembered he asked me to lie back then he sensually connected every inch of his body to mine. Everything about him—the way he smelled, the way the hair on his chest felt against my bare skin, the rough, stubbly beard on his chin, the way his breath felt between my legs as he kissed his way over my mound and pressed his tongue between my lips, the way that tongue drew warm circles on my clit, everything—warmed my body as well as my soul. I reached into the water and touched myself, mimicking the sensation of a memory.
He pulled me on top of him, my thighs trapping the full, hot length as his hard cock slid delightfully back and forth in a slippery path. He kissed me hard and said, “Turn for me, little flower. Let me see you.” I rubbed my clit harder under the water, remembering. Yessss... I turned and straddled his head, a completely new position for me. His large hands parted my flesh, his fingers opening me wide to his gaze while his tongue traced all of me from top to bottom. And I couldn’t help but whimper.
I recalled treating him the same. He lay back, and I covered his cock and balls with kisses and licks, my first time sucking and licking a cock, let alone one so big. I took him into my mouth, tasting him, loving him, delighting in the fact that I too could make him moan. And with arms wrapped tight around each other’s legs, we devoured each other for an hour until we both cried out in mutual ecstasy.
The water rippled as my self-induced reenactment cascaded over me. When my climax died down, I lay back fighting the tears that wanted to come again. No use lingering there at the raw edges of my heart. Because I had loved him so, I wanted him to be happy with the life he built without me. I pressed my moon and stars tattoo to my heart and, picturing him happy without me, wished him well.
Thirty minutes later, physically sated yet emotionally hollow, I sought an intimate connection with another living being, albeit in a totally artificial way. I accessed my email program and ignored the full-to-bursting inbox. Instead, I searched for the succor I found in this unusual alliance and painted a scene out of a loving memory.
S,
Lie back and feel my body cover yours, feel the heat of my body along your thighs. Let me lick you to hardness, You know my warm, moist mouth. Feel as I draw you in, so hard, so large, so smooth against my tongue. Did I tell you I’ve a penchant for firm, smooth things? Feel me on the head of your thick cock, so thick, so smooth. Feel me pressing the rim’s tensile firmness. Smooth things make me want to roll them on my tongue. And when you’ve been treated to enough and your mind and body crave more, tell me to turn and offer myself to you.
See me? My smooth alabaster thighs straddle your head. My sex hovers just above like a flower. Raise your eyes. See the dewy petals of me? Part them with your tongue, suck them, dip inside, lap the nectar your words have created. I wonder, are you as scent driven as I? I’m thinking perhaps you are, so allow me to paint an olfactory image for you. The scent is hot, primal, animalistic. Imagine the hottest memory of a woman’s scent your mind has stored away as a sensorial keepsake. This is my scent in this moment. My humble words don’t do it justice.
Feel my breasts as they flatten against your thighs, feel the rake of nipples gone hard with yearning. But there is more, shadow lover, so much more. My mouth covers you again, so hard, so unbelievably hot. That’s right, use your fingers to pry me wide to your gaze, drink in the mystery of me as I will you. The sweep of my red-gold hair brushes your bare skin. I kiss your knees and higher, returning again to the head of your cock where the sensitive, smooth underside beckons my tongue. I feel your nerves dance for me while your body calls upon me to taste flesh exposed and vulnerable. You flex forward as I slowly descend the full length. Feel my lips and chin brush the base as I swallow the impossibly hard length of you. Burst your excitement over my tongue to dribble down wetly. I’ll lick you dry. Feed me, feed us. I would lap you until I feel your body tremble and you would do the same to me. Together we would discover where all the nerve endings lead.
> My words had me panting again. I could literally feel him against my flattened breasts, and the downy covering all along his body treated my every nerve. They were only words, weren’t they? If so then why could I see it, why could I feel this so acutely? On impulse I added,
My fingers read you like Braille through the confines of this electronic device. I admit I find it sadly lacking.
V
I clicked send and waited.
“You’ve got mail” burst forth from the speakers. I discovered I had been conditioned to have an autonomic response to seeing the envelope and hearing the computerized words. Like Pavlov’s dog, I began to salivate.
Dearest V,
Indeed it is sadly lacking. How is it you’ve reached inside me this way? Are you the sorceress, the witch with unseen powers to tempt me so? I think you are, for I find myself yearning in a way I thought forever lost to me.
Yes, we lay belly to belly, your lovely orchid open in full. Feel my finger slipping inside like a sensual bee seeking nectar. You’re so wet, so hot... Feel two fingers now running over your slippery ridges. I have to taste. And taste I will. Feel me, V, feel my mouth draw both lips and clit, feel your pulse pound there as I suck firmly to make your flesh swell. I feel your heart against my tongue as I press into your warm, silky depths. I see you, lovely one. I see your ginger curls so short and soft like down. Feel my fingers open you wide. You enflame my senses and beckon my tongue to return.
Yes, suck me, little flower, suck me down and share this most precious exchange two people may have, for this is far more intimate than any words we have shared so far.
Are you ready for my cock? Will you open your silken thighs for me? Let me sink into your heat. Make it so, V, craft the scene, for my body throbs to bury balls-deep within yours. I find myself quite hungry for you. In fact, I find I crave to discover my soul once again, and I suspect you hold the key. Do you think of me, V? Do you rush home to search for my reply to your own siren’s call? Do you crave my words, and when you have them, do they cause you to reach your delicate fingers under your panties to tease yourself or do you wantonly slake the thirst and give that which your mind and body craves? Be assured lover, I do for you.
S
I read then reread those words. Discover my soul? In that moment I wanted him. I wanted him for real.
S,
This, my lover in the ether, is the absolute most erotic imagery you have painted for me yet. Yes, I am a witch as you say… I can conjure these images and through sensual alchemy bring them to life. A servant golem, built from desire, and it says feed me. I find it heady to think you sit, cock in hand, reading my words, your knuckles wet and arm muscles taut. Tell me what image of you I see when I imagine you stroking? If you do, does a tremor ripple over you before you explode? Or do you hold it back, balls aching to find your release later? Tell me, do my words stray through your mind when you are otherwise occupied?
V
A reply came so quick at first my mind missed it.
Siren V,
Yes. I can scarcely think of anything else. I stroke for you here at my screen. I stroke for you in bed while your perfect description fills my senses. I stroke for you in the shower, imagining your body slick with soap before me. I stroke for you in almost depraved longing. Paint for me, sensual one. Take my mind where my body would follow.
S
The ache between my legs became an ache just under my breastbone. I was falling in love with electronic print! No, I was falling for the mind who crafted it with such precision. How I ached to make these words real.
S,
Feel my hand curl around you, marveling how desire changes a man from flesh to steel. I desire to trace these bulging veins with my tongue. I want to feel the hot blood course under the velvet sheath. I want to slip the tip of my moist tongue into your body as you enter mine, swirling and tasting and hotly forcing your focus on the cluster of nerves that correspond to my own. Ah, you have me now. I must admit to pulse-quickened searches for your reply. I read your words and I pulse, yes, pulse and throb. I want you to know that when I am done writing this I will adjourn to create magic. Lying back on my bed with my legs wide, I’ll position the head of my vibrator, then close them scissor tight around it. With muscles flexing, I’ll surrender to this electric delight humming on the capstone of my nerves. I must.
V
I clicked send and waited with teeth biting down and worrying my bottom lip. I felt tense, no, tense wasn’t the right word. I was god-awful horny. Sure I could bring myself off, but I didn’t want to. I wanted a time machine, I wanted several years back. I wanted to lie beside bright blue waters on a white sand beach next to the man who heated my blood and made my heart sing. In lieu of that impossible dream, I wanted this man. Yes, I wanted S.
No reply.
I played two hands of FreeCell on the computer. Somehow solitaire was too pathetic in my current mental state. The words rang through the silence of my home office—“You’ve got mail.” I felt a rush of wetness between my legs.
Bewitching V,
Your words fire my imagination and heat my blood. They pool in my cock and balls gone heavy now in full desire. Take my hand, lovely V, follow me to my bed, lie back on petal-strewn sheets and fan your autumn-colored hair across my pillows. Allow me to pay homage to the goddess you are. Let me begin at your little feet. Feel me lightly kiss, and yes, you will feel me bite ever so slightly, for the need to devour you is great. Reply lover.
I await.
S
Petal-strewn sheets. I swallowed. Good god, he was a sexy man.
S,
I smell the roses, their essence rising from the petals as the heat of my body warms them beneath me. I smell my scent, for my arousal is beyond measure in this moment. I draw a sharp breath as your nip to my arch takes me by surprise, but the press of warm lips in the same place cools the nerves gone wild. I feel the stubble of your chin, the rough/smooth dichotomy sending a tingle to run along my spine. Your hands stroke and caress. I feel the tickle of your fingers as they trace my calves. You’re at my knees now. I feel your lips, feel your warm breath. Where do you travel next I wonder? I think I know.
V
My heart was pounding. My breath was coming short, and I was aware I needed to swallow because my throat had gone dry. His reply finally came.
My sensual lover V,
No, pretty one, have no expectations, only anticipation, for you never know what my body and mind will treat you to next, but I assure you, all will delight. For now I will leave your shapely legs and kiss you. Feel my body glide along yours, feel my weight press against you on my journey to your mouth. Yes, that is my hard cock grinding down. I can’t help myself, V. My body craves the contact. I hold your face between both hands and lightly rub my lips over yours, not quite a kiss, not quite a caress. Open, sweetness, open your lips to mine. Mmm, my tongue traces your bottom lip. How soft you are. I know a place that is softer still, but for now, I linger here. My tongue finds yours and swirls over and over it.
I break the delightful joining to shower your face with kisses. Feel my rough cheek. The beard I once wore is gone, but the shadow remains and it rasps against your neck, making your lovely alabaster skin glow pink and flushed. I bite down and suck your flesh lightly into my mouth, feeling your body rise to me. I’ve marked you with a lover’s mark, and oh, lovely one, you do wear it well. Hear my breath at your ear, warm, heavy, excited. My lips glide along your collarbone to your upper chest. My tongue finds the crescent moon and stars and traces them, feeling the image slightly raised on your smooth, flawless skin. Your rose-colored nipples entice me... I go there next.
Tell me, lover. Take me there.
S
My clothing felt tight, as tight as a robe and slippers could feel when skin desires to be bare. I took them off because my skin felt feverish. My breath came faster as I sat naked at my desk.
S,
My fingers curl into the warm silk of your chestnut hair as
your mouth closes over one nipple. You hear me gasp as you suck both areola and nipple into hot suction. Your teeth graze me, lightly biting, the pleasure/pain skittering along nerve meridians that run in a straight line from nipples to center heavily between my thighs. Touch me, lover, use expert fingers to tease me open, fill me with your fingers as lips and teeth treat one breast and then the other. I’m burning now.
V
Burning was right. I stood just long enough to tuck one leg under me, feeling a need for pressure there against my sex. I ground down against the calf I straddled, dreaming of words to use next as we culminated our curious relationship.
You Have Mail. “You’ve got mail.”
Looking down, I saw my breasts were flushed in a fevered hue as though a beard had rasped across them. But no, S had no beard. I put another memory aside and read.
Beauteous V,
Your alabaster flesh fills my hands. Feel me now, holding one breast firmly. Your areola bulges, and I treat the full blooming rose with firm licks. Feel as I press both creamy breasts together, drawing your swollen pink nipples close so that I may suckle and lick first one then the other. See how my love bites mark you? Such a lovely canvas. You have no idea how tasty you are, lovely V.
And now feel my hands glide. Yes, part your legs for me, pull them back, hold them wide. My lips run along your ribs and belly. God yes, I smell how turned on you are. It fills my senses, and I know you know we won’t be denied. My fingers lightly pinch and roll your clit until you squirm and moan and make little sounds in the back of your throat. You’re so swollen, so excited. My fingers enter your tight warm body and withdraw. I hold my fingers between our mouths, my desire to taste all of you at once. Kiss me, lover, taste.
Anderson, Rose - Hermes Online (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5