You’ve just hung up.
I’m laying on the futon, legs still partially covered by the bed’s sheet but not wide opened anymore. On the contrary, my knees are stuck together, legs on the side, whilst I’m laying on my back, a phone in my right hand….I don’t know where the left hand has gone.
I’m still blurred, in a haze, just waking up after the wave that went through my body. Suddenly I start being conscious of my left hand, next to my cheeks…I lift it up as if it was a stranger’s hand, not a part of me anymore. My fist is closed, clenched as would Leonard Cohen say in his song… clenching her fist…I look at it, lift it in front of my eyes…I open my fist, distend my hand…My hand isn’t wet…it’s soaked, glued by my own juices. I part my fingers as I parted my legs a few minutes before. My fingers are palmed by my juice, it stick to them like a spider’s jelly net. Funny how wet they are, skin full of wrinkles, like an old woman’s skin, like I’ve spent hours in a hot bath.
Today this hand explored me front and back, went to places I’ve never really seen with my own eyes, but only touched, felt and sensed. This hand is my inner eye…For this, I know no more than a blind person, or even less, because their senses are said to be so superior to ours. This hand has been navigating on strange flesh canyons, warm and wet. When my fingers entered my ass — the back door, as would Toni say in the Surrender — the entrance and inside were already soaked. They glided down easily, so easily inside.
The space was huge…a real cavern, with soft, smooth walls…softer, smoother than my pussy…It’s not irregular inside…the walls are soft, tight, unlined, tensed like a nomad’s izmit escort tent, a sail. The first time I fully explored this place, I thought the wetness would be some disgusting stuff coming from me. It’s not. You can enter there, and then just right after, dive the same fingers on my wet pussy. That’s what I did. A dive, a long, long dive in my ass, two fingers…the start of a wave, and then a dive on a similarly warm and wet place, but so different, full of hidden hollows and smooth dents — my pussy — and then another start of wave, while pumping.
It all started hours ago. I ‘ve just received your mail mentioning Marie. The girl form the book…She has a very soft face. It’s weird. She doesn’t look like me, although she has brown hair and eyes, and very dark pubic hair…SHE is very good looking…But I feel close to her, as looking at a twin sister, or even at myself — maybe because she seems my age, maybe because she looks innocent. She looks like she makes love, masturbate, or have sex exactly the same way as I do…I don’t know. Giving herself truly, seriously, seeing everything as a nice moment, emotions, beauty. Something you don’t really talk about, something you don’t share, except with the person who shared these moments, who was with you, witnessing it.
Am I attracted to her…I don’t know. I don’t want to kiss her, I don’t even want to touch her. But I do imagine her gently touching me, holding me in her arms, kissing my neck, saying tender words… looking at you massaging me, and helping you giving me pleasure. And I would give myself entirely to such situation, I would abandoned myself to your double caring….Snapshots of such moments came to my mind when I read your mail…I yahya kaptan escort felt warm, cared, comforted, sheltered, and my belly warmed up very quickly… and my thong couldn’t contain my wetness, and I felt my trousers being gently moisturised between my legs.
It was hard to concentrate, after. I felt the tone of my voice had slightly changed, I could feel my bra on my breasts. I could feel better everything, sensed everything. I was suddenly conscious of where I was sitting, what my hands were doing, my clothes on my body. Eventually, little by little during the day, my senses came back to normal but the rolling warm ball inside my belly didn’t disappear…It’s a strange feeling. Like a sudden hole, a weakness, which moves inside you from the belly button to the middle part of the thighs, and sometimes even go across you from front to back, at the end of your spine, between the cheeks. It’s a nice feeling. Sometimes when it last for hours, my vagina will contract, from time to time, pumping an imaginary tongue, finger or dick while I’d close my eyes for a few seconds.
I thought of the book several times. I could see this particular photo. Legs wide opened, wearing socks, serious face, looking innocent, taking sex very seriously, a form of art, a form of beauty. I could hear you, when you come. I could feel you, when you came in my mouth….That’s something I asked myself later on today: I can feel the sidewalls of my ass, smooth, tensed and soft, a bit like your sex.
And you, how are you inside…as soft, tensed, smooth and wet as your dick? In my mouth, it gave me the same feeling, the same touch, than what I sense when I dive my fingers gebze escort on my wet ass.. You did that, too. So now you know how you’d be in your own mouth…
I came half an hour ago. I’m now on my belly, writing. I let my left hand wandering gently from my ass crack to the lips of my pussy…It’s still wet in that area, still soft. I feel still warm, the warm sensation inside…I start pumping, ass pointing to the ceiling…
Your message came after 10:30, as I came a second time, on my belly. In your text, your tongue was replacing what my fingers just did a few minutes before… You do write nicely…”I’d like to lick you as you lie on your belly… from your ass to your clit…drowning in your juices…until you come again…” My hand didn’t came back to the pen. I reached my clit once again. Your voice in the phone was like having you by my side, a voice inside me, giving me orders, giving consistency to what I was feeling, to what I was pumping.
When you came, I had a warm wet stroke inside my pussy, my own juice trying to pretend it’s you… I came shortly after that, for the third time that evening….the same strike, although different each time, but still the same lightning, the same warmth, my body stretching, my head turning, the haze, I don’t see, I don’t know where I am, I don’t think, I don’t question, I’m not a person, I’m not a body, I’m just feelings, I’m just senses. Do you experience that, too? Not feeling you’re material, just being a feeling. Not feeling your senses, just being all your senses. When I finally opened my eyes and turned on my back, I saw the mirror.
On the mirror, two feet, two legs, a bed’s sheet covering half a thigh and partially a very dark pussy, one breast…my knee is hiding the left one, they’re so small…still hard, pointing to the ceiling, though.
I haven’t wrote half of what I felt….the first orgasm, on my back…but I’m so tired now, eyes closing…. Good night…