Is that possible like this? I’ve been having way too much fun experimenting with this kind of conversation and I want to keep trying. I want to make this feel as real as it can. I want to make you feel an honest connection even if it’s only for the few minutes I have your complete attention while reading this.
And I do have your attention right now don’t I? Wherever you are reading this, your focus is on my words regardless of how close you are to guessing what my real voice sounds like. But you know these are my real words, my real thoughts.
There’s no way for me to know who you are or what you look like and of course that’s part of what makes this so exciting for me. You could be a 21 year old ginger college student smirking a little bit right now while reading this and I can feel myself blushing at that thought. Or you could have just turned 50 and are just quickly browsing through post after post with a cup of coffee. It’s enticing and intriguing for me no matter who you are because you’re absolutely real right now.
So can I make this feel personal? Is being completely honest about what I’m doing a good start? It’s Friday which means I’m just in just a pair of jeans and a light grey top sitting at my desk. My office mate left early which gives me a little more freedom to type this.
I can let you see more by admitting that I have on a pair of black and white stripped panties. I’ve forced myself to be so painfully open in other posts that this feels so easy right now. It’s easy to admit that my heart is racing right now imagining you reading these words. I can feel your eyes on me and I can feel myself begging for the judgment.
Actually, that might be a way to make this harder for myself. Should I actually be begging you for this right now? Do you know how much I honestly don’t like having this make me look at all submissive? But if I’m really thinking about it, making a post on here is already begging for your attention. I’m begging for this intimacy, for someone real to read my thoughts like this. I’m begging you to make me feel vulnerable on here that I’m opening myself up to whoever stumbles across this.
And that’s you right now. It’s you who gets to watch me squirm in my chair in this moment. It’s you who gets to know that I’m embarrassed of how I act on here.
God is it weird to tell you that I want to feel your breath on me? I want to see your eyes fixated on these words. I want to feel your pulse. Man, woman, old, young, cocky, reserved, outgoing, depressed, it doesn’t fucking matter right now does it!? You’re sharing whatever this weird moment is with me and I can feel my body reacting to you. I can’t stop myself from saying these words out loud under my breath while typing them. I can’t stop from letting my hand slip under my jeans after each sentence when I don’t hear anyone walking by my open door.
You’re doing this to me whether you realize it or not and I’m thanking you for every fucking second!
Completely yours for this wonderfully twisted moment,
Sarah.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/bhpuoa/f_can_i_make_this_honestly_feel_intimate
I’m enjoying these little moments more and more Sarah. When I started reading this I was listening to something but I paused that to give you my full attention as that only seemed fair as you are being so honest.
Your first words wandered and my attention nearly drifted away, but my focus returned when you mentioned honest connections. I’m intrigued by the question of whether anything can truly be honest when people are hidden behind their self-made digital facades. In reading on and wondering where this was going, I noticed something…an image was growing more clear in my head. Of you sitting there, your eyes wide and looking ahead at the screen, and then quickly towards the door, before you reach down between your legs. Of your nervous energy as you await the reaction…questioning whether the results will deliver that desired sense of intimacy and connection…or will they simply cause you to find stimulation elsewhere or, worse, lead you to return to your work? This much you can be certain of – I felt it. I received your energy and your words morphed into a wonderfully twisted feeling of knowing and understanding and desiring.
Your first words wandered and my attention nearly drifted away, but my focus returned when you mentioned honest connections. I’m intrigued by the question of whether anything can truly be honest when people are hidden behind their self-made digital facades. In reading on and wondering where this was going, I noticed something…an image was growing more clear in my head. Of you sitting there, your eyes wide and looking ahead at the screen, and then quickly towards the door, before you reach down between your legs. Of your nervous energy as you await the reaction…questioning whether the results will deliver that desired sense of intimacy and connection…or will they simply cause you to find stimulation elsewhere or, worse, lead you to return to your work? This much you can be certain of – I felt it. I received your energy and your words morphed into a wonderfully twisted feeling of knowing and understanding and desiring.
Your first words wandered and my attention nearly drifted away, but my focus returned when you mentioned honest connections. I’m intrigued by the question of whether anything can truly be honest when people are hidden behind their self-made digital facades. In reading on and wondering where this was going, I noticed something…an image was growing more clear in my head. Of you sitting there, your eyes wide and looking ahead at the screen, and then quickly towards the door, before you reach down between your legs. Of your nervous energy as you await the reaction…questioning whether the results will deliver that desired sense of intimacy and connection…or will they simply cause you to find stimulation elsewhere or, worse, lead you to return to your work? This much you can be certain of – I felt it. I received your energy and your words morphed into a wonderfully twisted feeling of knowing and understanding and desiring.
You are so captivating in your intimacy that I feel my heart beat faster at the same time. Reading feels like the most intimate kind of voyeurism.