Message-ID: <60657asstr$1285758603@assm.asstr.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2010 13:44:17 -0500
From: Angelique Rich <angelique.rich@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Meeting him online (cybersex, mast)
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Date: Wed, 29 Sep 2010 07:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Meeting him online
 
Weeks ago I spent one of these evenings at the computer, adding a few
more hours to the countless hours I've spent in chat rooms, chatting
about sex, perversions and fantasies. I admit, I sometimes ask my self
if I'm addicted to this pleasure and I wonder why it fascinates me so
much. There are a few nicks that are familiar to me in the channels
and I know which one I better don't answer as they are just assholes
bragging with their 10 inch cocks, and with some I have spent hours,
stimulating their fantasies until they loose control and cum in their
pants, napkin, hands... they never tell. Although I've spent hours
with them, I never climax while we chat. I admit, I've pretended to,
but I'm allowed to fake my orgasm online. After all, we all have faked
then in real life, so why shouldn't we in the virtual realm?

And then I met him. He seemed to read my mind when we chatted, and I
had the impression he knows me well. We talked about fantasies,
experiences, and I was pretty sure, he exaggerated about the
experience part as much as I did. He never asked for pictures, never
even asked for a description, as if he would be perfectly aware of
talking to a virtual being and as if he would, not even for a second,
ponder who that person at the other end of the line might be. It was
on the forth time we talked, that the conversation moved from this
exchange to a role-play. I didn't realize when this switch happened.
One moment we seemed to be talking about fantasies and the next he was
in my mind, playing with it, making it visualize pictures of me in his
power. At one point, I stopped answering, because my fingers were to
busy between my legs and he, he simply continued to send me line after
line that sent me deeper and deeper into my lust until...

"I know you want to cum"

"But you can't. You feel the fingers, you feel your wet warm walls
grab them, but you wont' cum yet"

"Four of my fingers spread your walls, opening you, making them slick
with your juices, the smell of your lust and need filling your
nostrils and your room."

"You moan, and you ask me to make you cum. I feel your body shiver and
I watch your helpless shiver as you you see me  shake my head, denying
you your release"

"I finger fuck you, stopping when ever I feel you walls tighten,
stopping when ever I feel you getting close, and every time I whisper
'Say it... Do it...'"

"I watch you fight, watch your pride battle with your need, until you
whisper it"

"I pretend not to understand, making you announce your submission
louder, and my fingertips push on your g spot as humiliation paints
your face."

I watched the lines appear on my screen, four of my fingers buried in
me, I even tried to make my thumb join its siblings in the warm need
of my lust. And I did it. Fingering myself, I begged him, I begged the
screen. 

No reply. 

I fingered my self harder, faster, the wet slick slick slick sounds of
my wanton lust filing my ears as I begged. 

Louder this time.

Nothing. 

I felt it rise in me, I felt playing vanish, as my mind made
virtuality change into reality and focused on our play. I moaned,
hanging on the edge and then I did it. 

I was begging and I mean, I was really begging, no pretense, as I felt
the familiar sensation of my release so close and yet so far away,
denied to me if I would not hear his command. The screen remained
silent and I felt a hint of desperation being added to the ever
growing need and just as I thought he left - 

"Cum."

"Cum for me. Now" 

My eyes saw the words appear on screen and the effect was the one of a
burning match being thrown at gun powder. The first word started it
and by the time the 'Now' appeared, my walls milked my fingers and the
sensation spread over my body, making me shiver and cry out as  nerves
sent the 'start fireworks' signal to my brain, shutting it down so my
body could cum and cum for him.

When I returned to earth, I looked a the screen, flushed and glowing
and my brain digested what my eyes read.

"Thank you"

I typed a "Oh god" and got the message that he no longer existed and I
realized that I've unplugged my network cable in the throes of my
orgasm. A mix of emotions ran through me, but the one that prevailed
was the fear of having him disappointed. I felt incredibly guilty at
the thought  he might think I did what countless men did to me, when
they chatted with me - that I simply left after he made me cum. And
for the first time I wished I would have an email address, a twitter
id, anything, that would allow me to tell him what just happened. I
stayed for maybe half an hour, ignoring messages and hoping for him to
return.

A week, in which I looked for him almost every evening went by, a week
I scolded myself for acting stupid, but also a week I just remained
remembering what happened. And then his nickname appeared again on the
screen, right left to the words: 

"You came, didn't you."

Over the next few weeks, we met again and again, and he guided me down
the path of my fantasies and opened doors to new ones, making them
happen in my mind until I made wet stains on the towel I started to
sit on every time I logged on. And, without being asked, I started to
give bits and pieces of my real self away, mysteriously knowing that,
the more he knew about me, the more he would be able to make my
deepest and darkest fantasies happen in my mind safely. 

And then he told me he would come to a city nearby for business. He
mentioned it casually and I admit - it wasn't him who impulsively
asked for meeting each other. The next morning I had a message in my
inbox. A message telling me date, time and location and making me
smile by confirming he would look forward to meet. I opened the
attachment and looked at him for the first time. 

Middle aged, dark hair with a little grey, dark eyes. Dark, but not
intimidating, something about the mouth made him look friendly. The
picture of a man who knows what success is, self confident and at
peace with himself. And I felt a flush cover my face as I thought that
he looked even better than I imagined from the descriptions we
exchanged what seemed ages ago. And god, was I glad I've been honest
when I gave mine!

I look at myself in the mirror again and I'm so conscious of the sheer
half cup bra and the crotchless panties I'm wearing under the summer
dress. I watch the woman in her late thirties, brown curly hair that
falls on her shoulders and seems to be  pretty much untamable, a woman
wearing subtle make up. No, she's not looking slutty or cheap, and yet
I can feel sexuality radiate from her as I watch her and I wonder if
others, if he will feel the same. 

I know it will not be a normal date if I leave the safety of my
apartment. It also won't be a normal one night stand, as I've done a
few before. If I leave, I'll leave the safety of my fantasies to
venture into the unpredictable, unknown realm of reality. I nervously
press my lips together briefly and as my hand touches the apartment's
door handle , I feel my heart beat in my throat as I push down and
open the door to leave.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As always, feel free to tell me if you liked it. 
If you didn't please tell me as well :)

And - if the story gave you an erotic tickle - thank you :)

Those who liked it can find my other stories here:
http://cynfulangel.blogspot.com/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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