There’s always someone with which you share your most erotic and fiendishly sensual moments. Someone that your experiences with go beyond one telling. Someone that defies all reasonable and sensible thought because you just have to have that final, lingering, kiss. C was my “someone”.
We’d met by random chance. I was struck down, immediately, by her smile, her laugh, her flowing brunette locks – how could I possibly look away, even for a second, from those effervescent irises… And then, fuck…then she would speak. Her softly accented tone making my name sound fresh and new, like no one had ever articulated it properly before; making it her own and me more hers with every, single, syllable. I was utterly sold.
Soon, I would find out exactly how much trouble I was in Good trouble – well, maybe bad, too. We’d spent one evening in the company of friends and we both knew it wasn’t enough. Alas, we lived at distance, separated by sea, and I was in no financial position to jump on the next flight and follow her. We made do with ‘phone calls and texts, all completely innocent and without ties to anything suggestively sex driven. No. I think we both were doing that secretly, but never wanting to allow the other person to think that it was just some lustful booty call. It made it worse. Well, better, but worse in the sense of desire. I really wanted this girl to be beside me…and I wanted her to feel something of me beside her. I wrote to her. It started out innocent enough, but my mind’s desire overtook my restraint and I wrote and wrote, word after word, painting this picture of what we would do together when we met again. I was explicit in every detail. Drawing out the moments; the adjectives; the feelings; the sensations…I didn’t hear from her for a day. Not a big problem, I’m pretty useless at responding to people promptly…
Then my ‘phone pinged at me with a message. It was from C.
Apprehensively, I opened it. It was a voice recording. She knew that hearing her would melt me immediately. She told me that she’d read my words and that they were…how did she put it…’on point’…and I’d really turned her on. Her voice rang out to tell me to listen. She described her fingertips across her skin. How she imagined me at her neck. How wet I made her feel beneath her own touch. She ordered me to listen to her while she played with herself. Telling me how what I had written was getting her off. Hearing my name again and again until she came. I was gone. Out of it. I listened again, my hand now racing over my cock. Laying back onto the bed with my eyes closed, letting my whole room be filled with the sounds of C’s breathy, pre-orgasmic tones. I wanted to be deep inside her. I mimicked the thick, hard strokes, timing my own to come with her…
I wanted more trouble, immediately and badly I lay there, with me all over my chest and stomach, and didn’t feel an ounce of that post-wank guilt. An absolute first. My mind was made up. I had the coldest of showers – yeah, sometimes nothing else will do – and then called her. I made flight arrangements. Dates. All the shit that goes with it. I didn’t want this to be something that never had a chance: I needed her to know that she ran deeper than anyone had done before. I also knew that that was quite a scary thing to tell someone…so we had to meet either way. Face-to-face; to be able to see the truth in the eyes behind the lexicon being spun.
Friday. Three weeks in the future. ‘I’ll meet you at the airport.’ Done…
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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1lsdpa/that_time_i_never_wanted_to_stop_part_one_voice
Above all else, I really enjoyed your casual writing voice. It’s a good change of pace from the usual erotica.
Wow…thank you…I’ll post up the second part then.