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Subject: {DeidreNg}JDR"E-mail Exchange"( MF )[1/1]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=====================
2) This work is copyright by the author. You may download and keep
copies for your personal use as long as the author's byline and e-mail
address and this paragraph remain on the copies. Posting to newsgroups or
on websites is permitted as long as no money is charged for access and as
long as the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on
the story.
Ng sister stories are available on their own website,
http://www.geocities.com/Paris/LeftBank/6979
=====================
The following story deals with explicit sex. If you're not old enough
to be here, you're not old enough to read it. Scram.)
================
E-mail Exchange
Deidre Ng
deidreng@aol.com
Dear Tammy,
Since you asked, this is how things went after that first story
from him.
We were both pretty busy the following day, but in the
afternoon we went to the cafeteria together for a soda. I asked him
why he had written such an erotic piece and sent it to me, of all
people. He said that the idea just popped into his head as he walked
through Bowling Green on the way to the post office for stamps. We
had sent these messages to each other and he wanted to see how aroused
he could make me via e-mail. But it wasn't just that. It was me in
particular he wanted to arouse.
The cafeteria wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty either. We
were talking quietly. Suddenly he smiled awkwardly and said he wanted
to write something that would make us intimate. He looked down at the
table. The soda had been sweating, and when he moved it there was a
ring of water drops on the table top. He pushed them around with his
finger, dragged them by surface tension til they joined together. He
seemed lost in thought, or perhaps waiting for me to respond. Perhaps
unconsciously his finger caressed the water drop on the table, pushing
it, circling it, holding his finger hovering over it til it leapt up
and spread across his finger tip. It reminded me of how his finger
might move if it were hovering over me, between my legs, between my
lips, hovering, waiting for surface tension to attract my surface to
his. I clamped my legs tight together and shivered at the breeze
blowing through me.
The more his finger caressed the drop of water, the more
aroused I got, the less able to speak and break the spell. The word
intimate was echoing around inside me. This went beyond the intimacy
of a shared secret. Whether he knew it or intended it, he had already
entered me through my most sensitive and delicate opening, that of the
imagination. He had lubricated his entry with slippery words that
left me breathless, his strong shaft was words, his ejaculation was
more words that I still tasted inside me. Having aroused me there,
made love to me there, been as intimate with me there as could be done
with words, what could the rest of me do but follow helplessly.
Hadn't I, the night before, invited his kiss, his caress, begged them
even. In my privacy I had craved his intimacy, far beyond a wink at
the coffee station.
He looked up at me, breaking the spell. I gathered myself
together, reining in my feelings and my bodily urges. I told him that
if he wanted to be intimate he had chosen how to start very well. I
was still a bit surprised to be the subject of his attention. He
flattered me, telling me that I was smart and pretty and sexy, that it
made for a very attractive package, especially the smart part. I
suffered through being complimented as well as can be expected,
simultaneously basking in his praise and trying to squelch the little
voice inside that kept saying it wasn't true, that I was dumb and fat
and why should he care, it's just my pussy he wants anyway.
We had to leave it like that, and I went back to my desk still
ambivalent. Ambivalent and aroused. Aroused and unsure. Aroused and
more aroused. I could taste his words like he had come them into my
mouth. They rolled saltily in my mouth. "...intimate...push him into
you..."
That evening I got another e-mail:
---------
No Words
---------
At 6:30 you get message via e-mail, which you think is strange,
since you assume I am gone. The subject is simply 'No Words',
suggestive enough to quicken your heart even before you click the
message open. The message itself is simple. "No panties either. My
office. 9PM."
At 9 my side of the floor is empty. The cleaning lady has come
and gone. You step inside and close the door. I meet you with a kiss
that begins as a shower of little kisses across your cheeks and lips,
then focus on your lips as we embrace. We stand, kissing, exploring
each other and our mutual desire. Our grip is tender and fierce as
our kisses meet and join and melt together.
In our own time, we separate just a little. I hold your hands
and lead you to my desk. Clearing aside papers and keyboard, I motion
you to sit up on the vacant space. You do, and flip out the skirt
from beneath you. Now standing between your legs, I bend to kiss you
again, seeing the pulse thudding in the veins of your neck. Your hair
falls away from your up- tilted head. I lean against you and your
legs embrace me. A whimper of desire escapes your lips. We kiss.
Your tongue is fire in my mouth.
In our own time, we separate just a little. Your head rolls
back and your breath escapes in measured gasps. I stroke your arms
and push against your breasts beneath your blouse. I kneel.
Now I am face to face with your heat. With my hands on your
buttocks I bring you to the edge of the desk. You widen your spread.
I kiss you. Small and tentative at first, then circling and little
flicks of my tongue. Your motions and gasps are spasms of guidance in
your pleasure. I know it when you come and come again.
In our own time, we separate just a little. I am ready for
you, and you are ready for me. I lean against you once more, my hands
on your knees, your ankles crossed in the small of my back. We rock
back and forth, and I slip quickly inside of you, greeted by your
slickness and warmth and desire. We stop and start at many stages.
We rest and kiss. I slip right out of you by accident one time. With
a giggle you guide my wet shaft back into your waiting depths. The
ending is a slow build, a thrusting that cannot stop, your every
muscle holding, squeezing me as I explode within you. Breathless, we
hold each other. We are one.
In our own time, we separate. We clean each other, touch each
other, kiss each other. You laugh, I laugh too, we hold each other.
In our own time, we bid adieu. You open the door after a last
long kiss and the spell is broken. At your desk you find an e-mail
message waiting that says "Thank you, and Good night. I love you."
You go home. No-one on the subway knows why you laugh and
smile, shiver and hug yourself.
Before I left that night I had written him two messages:
Subject: just right
-------------------------------
Message Contents
-------------------------------
Perfect. You were PERFECT. You were so, so, so absolutely
perfect. How do you know exactly how to make it so perfect? I can
understand how your fantasies would reflect what YOU would like and
would be like. But how do you know so well the details of just how I
would respond, even though you've never made love to me? Is what I
would like and how I would like it so obvious that it shows on the
outside? Or do you and I happen to share the same imagination?
(Did you make this up just for me, or is it something you might
actually want to do?)
I'm staying late tonight, but I'll still close my eyes and smile a
Mona Lisa smile on the way home as I sink into the back seat of the
limo.
It will give me something to think about as I'm lying totally
relaxed and naked on the top white tile step in the steam room at the
gym after my run this evening, and it's about 115 degrees. I can't see
a thing because I don't have my glasses and the room is foggy thick
with steam and the hiss of the compressor. The hot little drops of
water condensing on the ceiling fall onto me unannounced - I never
know just when they're going to fall or where they're going to land. I
usually close my eyes and breath very slowly and deeply because the
air is too hot and wet to breath normally. I feel completely
surrounded. I always take a quick shower before going in there, so my
skin feels smooth and shiny and soft, and my hair is wet and smells
fresh from the shampoo and hangs long over the side of the step.
I'll most certainly go over every detail. And over. And over. And
over.
You got it just right.
Well there was no hiding my feelings after that, was there?
And so I wrote:
Subject: what's going through my mind on the west side IRT
-------------------------------
Message Contents
-------------------------------
Oh, David.
I think about you now, all the time. I really do. I think about
how it would be with you. You really are making me crazy. The images
and sensations you come up with for me, the way you imagine I would
respond - it's a little scary how right you are. The little sighs and
whimpers, sudden quiet deep moans that surprise even me, pulling you
into me with my legs around you, arms folded around your shoulders and
neck, fingers in your hair at the back of your head, my hair falling
everywhere, (around your face when I'm on top) soft kisses, deep hot
kisses., slow, messy, open mouthed. I'd love to tease you with my
tongue. Just the tip, outlining your lips, hunting inside your mouth
for your tongue, finding, pulling back, sneaking in again. My lips
gently tasting your mustache, my fingertips and nails stroking and
smoothing your beard.
I especially liked the part in cashmere where I was on top, slowly
working you into me, oversized sweater falling and moving across my
skin, your hands moving over me, under that softest sweater, even
warmer than the cashmere. You cannot imagine how much that turns me
on. It's unbelievable. Too many men seem to forget that there are more
than three places on my body I enjoy being touched. (Basically,
anyplace there is skin does the trick).
And the gradual deepening sensation of you slowly filling me up,
and the perfect moment when you're finally completely inside me, close
and hard and hot between my legs, belly to belly. I always lose my
breath at that moment, eyes closed, lips parted, my hair slipping over
my shoulders as I lean towards you to kiss you hard. There aren't any
words at that moment - you might feel the soft stinging scratch of my
nails as I tighten my grip on your shoulders as I finally take you
completely into me. Being only five feet tall, and more or less
petite overall, I must tell you that, while I'm sure I could take you,
I'm a bit...(how should I put it delicately)... on the tight side..
You would be very safe, very hard, very hot, and very, very desperate.
And I have excellent muscle control.
And I love to move with you. If I'm on top, let me do the work -
let me move up and down your entire length, pulling up but stopping
just short of your very hard and slippery head and oh so slowly
pressing back down, squeezing you from the inside as I go, until you
can feel me resting on top of you, dripping on to you. I might lace
my fingers through yours, holding your hands just above your head,
leaning forward, my weight very gently pinning you to the pillows -
you're much stronger than I am, but you let me do this anyway because
you don't want to upset the balance. I can watch your face, your
eyes, tease you with almost-kisses for a bit before I give you my
mouth for what turns into a seemingly inseparable devouring kiss, and
I hear your sighs and wimpers through it. I can tell as you get
closer and closer to coming, but even though you're signalling me to
move faster, oh please, please, please, I might take just a little
more time, make you last a just a little longer, until you absolutely
can't hold on another second, and crush me to you, burying your face
in my neck, shaking as you come into me, as deep as you can. I stop
moving and lay perfectly still on top of you, holding you very close,
ohyes ohyes oh yes oh so sweet, until the last little shudder is over.
We stay like that, not speaking or moving, just catching our breath.
After a few minutes I'd pull myself up, pushing my very messed up hair
out of the way over one shoulder to look at you, kiss you oh so gently
on the mouth, eyelashes, fuzzy face, warm damp neck and mouth again,
moving slowly and smoothly from kiss to kiss.
You made me so happy. I feel wonderful. I love seeing you so
excited. I love making you so excited. Here, put your arm around me,
let's curl up and fall asleep together. Everything okay? Mmmmmmm.
good night.
Of course for me it was another night of tossing and turning
and calling out his name as I touched the fire he had lit in me. I
was over the line now. I had to have him. If he wanted intimacy he
was on notice now what to expect.
We had a soda break that evening as well, after a full day of
running into each other in the hall and elevator and just exchanging
glances. We sat away from everyone else and I told him everything. I
told him what he had done to me, what I had done when I got home the
last two evenings. I told him how much I hoped he truly wanted to
make love to me, now that I wanted more than anything to make love to
him. I told him in exacting detail how I would go down on him, given
the chance.
He listened to me impassively. When I ran out of things to
say, he said he wanted those things, too. He reached across the table
and we touched for the first time.
**************************************************************
================
E-mail Exchange
Deidre Ng
-30-
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