Here's a little bedtime story for you... 

If only you had been online during this moment. Maybe it's a little selfish of me, but when I am at my best, we never seem to connect. I was so wet and aching, I could barely sit still in my chair.

He was gone. He wouldn't be back for at least an hour or two. And since you were off in dreamland, it was up to me to ease the need in my cunt, the desire to be filled and fucked by something thick and long and hard. What happens next is the most exquisite self-fuck I have ever had. You have a part to play in this story, so listen up. And get your cock out. Because just remembering it is already leaving me moist and warm. I could go for an encore performance.

I love being taken from behind. There is something about having my butt pressed into a man's groin, feeling the scratch of his hair against my naked flesh and the scrape of his balls against my pussy lips while he's rutting into me that can't be replaced by any other way of sex. The helplessness of being held prisoner against his body and impaled on his cock that makes me feel so peaceful and wild at the same time. Sometimes I like to shove my face into a pillow and asphyxiate myself a little to heighten my awareness of how the rest of my body is reacting to what is going on behind me. The rest of the world falls away, leaving only the sensation of my lover's desire and his want as he pounds them into me, proven by the long, slow drawing out of his penis away from my begging vagina, and the sudden re-entry when he can't bear to be outside my welcoming warmth.

It's hard to simulate that. I have tried every which way I know, and I can't duplicate the heat and the beauty of a man's body against my own. But I tried anyway. Ultimately, it failed, but I tried. I almost succeeded.

I reread some of our conversations, the serious friendship talk when you so sweetly listen to my worries interspersed and punctuated with tender sex talk taken on the run. As I looked over our play, I let my imagination take over and started to wonder what your hands would feel like, traversing the muscles under my skin. Wondering if living a white-collar lifestyle leaves them soft and tender, or if they retain a roughness in texture, strong and knowing as they manipulate the tissues of my body. I love men's hands. I love to look at them and hold them, to watch fingers intertwine with fingers and feel them caress me.

I thought about yours and found my left hand lazily beginning to trace circles against my thigh, the middle finger taking an occasional pass at the line of hair surrounding the mons. It was the lightest of touches, but I dreamed that it was you stroking me, not in any hurry, but absently listening to me drone on about something so silly and mundane while easing my heartache with your touch. Then your three middle fingers spread over the mound of my labia, swirling steadily over and around it, and the words began to blur.

I lay my head back on your shoulder, and after one tiny tremor that coursed through me passed, my tongue wet my lips. I sighed a little sigh of delight, and raised one foot (my good one) on top of the desk to brace myself, while you teased and danced around my clit, never really hitting it, just the lips. My knees widened to accomodate your reach, and to allow you to slide a finger inside me, if you were so inclined. But my clothing hindered you. I had to get them off. They were stifling me.

I stood up and began a slow strip tease for you, bathed in the fire in your gaze, and let it consume every part of my body that I exposed to you. There was no bra under my top, so my breasts bounced gently back into place when it caught them as I pulled it over my head. You reached for them, hefting them in your palms and rolling the nipples under your thumbs, telling me how pretty they are to you. Your tongue felt so good, lapping at the left one, making it a tiny pebble in your mouth because it wanted to be sucked so much. And its twin was so happy to be given your attention, too.

Easing my panties over my hips, showing you my trimmed bush, centimeter by agonizing centimeter (you groaned because I was taking too long), I played with you, teasing and drawing out the lust. Owning you. Holding myself out of your reach, while I played with my tits and dipped my finger in my already flowing juice and smeared it on your lips. But you couldn't have me just yet.

I directed you to the other chair, and took my place in the spot you left warm for my naked body, dangling one leg over the chair arm, and propping the other on the desk again. Closing my eyes after catching the blueness of yours and burning it into my brain, I settled back and went for my cunt, so you could see how I wanted to be tortured and fondled. How hot and ready I was getting for you.

God, how soft the skin of my pussy was. And made even silkier by the wetness that leaked to the surface, soaking it. I tickled at the lips, not allowing my fingers to break the gate to slip inside the walls, but barely there enough to know they were. Up and back, up and back I stroked, my hips rocking against my fingers, humping them slowly. The last upstroke hit my clit, and I know my tongue snaked out as if to meet it, when my little nub jumped and screamed to be sucked or licked. I opened my eyes in time to see you fishing your cock out of your pants, the head peeking out from the zipper. And it was already flowing.

I commanded you to jack yourself for me, so I could watch your hand slide back and forth over the head of your gorgeous cock. And I smiled happily when you obliged. But there was no rush. You took your time, and I swear it grew longer with every stroke.

And suddenly, I didn't want to be masturbating myself, I wanted to be holding you in my hands and my mouth, feeling what your hands must have been, tasting your heat and cradling your balls in my hand. Or I wanted to be seated on your penis, spread open over it to get you as far inside as you could be, and riding it like a frantic cowgirl.

I bit my lip and knew it was time. Time to find you and give you what you want, what I wanted, and give lust wings. I got up on shaking legs from my chair and held my hand out to you. You took it in yours, and we walked to the bedroom. I felt like a virgin, for some odd reason. Like I was embarking on a trip to a place I had never been. It was our first affair, I decided. The first time we would have each other. So I made the room ready.

A candle. A single candle shedding its light over the room, while I lay down next to you, touching and exploring you, kissing and whispering to you. Then you bent me back over the pillows I had arranged, your tongue making trails over my breasts and stomach, down to where I wanted it to be. It danced among my curls, and tangoed with my clit, pulling and biting at it, then sweetly loving it with kisses. My tongue reached for my teeth, and I arched up to you, begging you to come inside and fuck me.

You felt so good. So long. Stretching my girth with yours, tearing up my walls with your size. You pulled back out, repositioning yourself to fit better inside my small cunt. It wouldn't matter. It would still hurt. But it was a good hurt, because I would feel all of you, even as wet as I was. I would feel your thrusts, and the outline of your cockhead and the shaft as they began their rhythmic pace- in and out, in and out, angling to catch me on those most sensitive spots (how did you know?), slowing down to make it last for a good long while. And I needed to help you, because I couldn't help myself. I had to know what my clit felt like just then. How hard it was from being adored, how it trembled with holding back from screaming its release. But still begging to be kept waiting, anticipating that whatever was coming was going to be worth it.

You slipped out once, and hit my anus. Holy shit. I entertained the idea, for a moment. Of letting you have my ass. But you had a better idea. You rested your head in my shoulder a minute, breathing heavy against my chest, then whispered for me to turn over and get on my knees.

Please. Please, please, please raise me up to meet you. Tease my slit with your cock, and let it drip tears of need, I thought. Every muscle of your legs and your stomach I could feel against my skin. Your arms slid over my shoulders and back, massaging, easing any tension away. Then they spread my thighs apart, and your thumbs stroked my cunt lips before you drove yourself inside and held me to you with your cock. I knew I was pulsing around it, the throbbing spread over my entire body and centered on my clit.

Taking you in my hand, the base of your cock held firm in my grasp, I began to undulate on you, pulling on your dick with my pussy, tightening my muscles around it, and dragging myself back and forth. Your fingers found my clit and massaged it, rolling it and stroking the underside of it, until I was panting and dizzy. I lost control of my tongue and it reached for something, and I had a delicious image of taking another cock in my mouth while you fucked me. Or I fucked you. All I know is that you were so deep inside, that I thought I would be split in half.

There was a pillow by my hand and I grabbed it. You were riding me, pulling out then plunging back in, over and over, hitting the roof of my passage and the spot. I could feel the ridge of your cockhead catching it when you would pull out, and you must have too, because you would hold there a bit and tease it, making little circles inside of me with your rock-hard dick. I was so fucking close to losing my grip on the passion, that I felt I needed to smother myself to keep control. So I buried my face in the pillow, unable to breathe, only able to feel your cock in my cunt, then out of my cunt, then back in.

I found the vibrator. Three times you had almost had me over the edge. Three times I held out a little longer. A couple more and I would fall into blackness. Your penis inside me. The vibrator fucking my clit. The lack of air making me so aware that I was riding on clouds of red-tinged lust and ready to come hard and long. But you weren't ready for me to. You pulled out and I cried. You pushed in, but didn't stay. You barely dipped the head into the well of my juice. You rammed inside and fucked faster and harder, then pulled out. But not before you snagged my spot. Back inside, kicking my knees apart so you could go deeper and I couldn't move.

I was going to pass out, I was sure of it. But wanted to come on you. Please fucking make me come. But you just pulled out and rubbed my clit with the head, gasping in delirious surprise at the feel of the vibrator on your tingling skin. Then I fooled you, and caught your cock with my pussy, forcing you up inside me and I fucked back on you, bucking my hips so that you would have to hit my spot. You grabbed my shoulders and pulled back, dragging me up so that I had to kneel, but then I got what I wanted, and you were barely inside, but I could feel you and the ache made me want to reach for you and jam myself down on it, hard, barely able to contain it, but need it.

I was screaming for more and trying to get it, my cunt hunting for more of your cock, my knees spread over your thighs, and then it happened. I humped everything in reach, your hand, the vibrator, your fucking beautiful prick, your balls and just kept fucking until I felt the dam burst and flood over us, drowning your cock and making my clit hum. Then I fell onto the pillow, while you took over and fucked me raw, until the aftershocks subsided and you were spent, too.

The sheets and the pillows were a bitch to wash. I couldn't walk straight for a while, either. I don't remember that I ever did it that way before, and that I could take so much of the silicone friend. But it really wasn't the same as having flesh and blood. But I did learn a couple things.