Laurent

I remember that night when we had hard and intense sex through the keys of our phones. 

Completely wet on my bed. Two fingers between my legs, three, four, a hand, two hands. Trying to insert everything I could find within easy reach. Unable to control my breath and myself. Trying to plunge inside my phone to be with you and put your dick in my mouth. Let’s have a taste of what happened during this epistolary romance:

That day, I was wearing the long and large red check shirt that you love so much, without anything under it. Not long enough to hide my butt though. How could I think that someone would ring at my door that day? How could I think that you would take a plane from France and decide to be with me, that day? Maybe I was dancing, maybe I was eating chocolate or watching something, whatever, because at that time, that day, you rang. 

Completely forgetting that I was naked under my shirt I came to open my door and I saw you, smiling like such a nasty guy, already prepared for everything you would do to me. Within one second you jumped inside the house and fiercely pushed me back against the wall. I didn’t have time to think, to realise, to say anything, you were already eating me, smelling me, sucking every part of my body. Trying to take off the only covering that I wore, stuck by so many buttons.

I couldn’t believe what was happening, when I opened my eyes you were already between my legs, lifting one of them and licking, sucking, permeating every part of my body you were able to find of me from head to toe. When you couldn’t wait anymore, and without any need to ask my authorisation, you carried me and started us up the stairs. I was already yours, the strong and independent woman than I am would completely melt on you. Keeping your face in my neck to breathe my skin, in half way, it was enough, it was too much, too long without licking and eating me. You left me on a stair, went down and bit, pushed my chest back, spread my legs, and gave to me the best cunnilingus than I ever had, there on the stairs.

This was the start of a real sex dance all along my stairs. After you’d made me cum for the first time, you lifted me again, raised me a few steps more, on a corner, where one stair is larger. You returned me to my back, clasping yourself closely against me, to become only one person. Without so much hesitation you entered inside me, and then stopped it, holding there, like if an electric wave crossed you. I was already squealing, but it was too early, to fiery, you didn’t want to give me that satisfaction right away. Even if I heard a brief putain due to your lack of strength and certainty, pausing the penetration, you retreated. We stayed there during an infinite time, breathing heavily. You caressed my hair, then tugged it sharply to pull my head back and bite my neck. Just the feeling of your warm breath on my skin could give me an orgasm at that point. But you didn’t decide it would be like that. 

You took my hand and pulled me to the top of the stairs, crossed the vestibule with the aim of going to my room but it was a fake, an acting. You pushed me on the wall beside my room door, kissed me again, licked me again, to finally finish one more time between my legs.

I didn’t even know where my body could find so much cyprine. 

I came to my senses one hour later, we were kissing, naked, on my bed, finally. My body was exhausted, like butterflies inside my body. And you didn’t even penetrate me, yet. But the excitement of seeing each other again was gone, we were calmer, in love, instead of passionate and fiery. It was the falling stage of the sex rollercoaster, when we both knew the rising will begin again soon. 

You took the decision to let me touch you, touch your prick, feel it, massaging it, licking it and eating it. I would it be a part of myself, appropriated by me. I would make it become mine. Play with it indefinitely, have it only for myself, forever. It was gentle, but also really emotional, I treated it like a very precious and inestimable object. 

And I could tell how much it excited you. Excited by how idolised and cherished your cock was by me. 

After all, after you let me approach close to the boundaries, your boundaries, oddly after excitation and pain, after uncounted minutes with your dick in my mouth, dancing with my tongue, you gently asked me to come to kiss you. So calmed you were, so peaceful, you knew your goal and the long-awaited end transpired. 

After devotedly kissing my mouth, you installed me on my tummy and came on my back. You determinately and gently penetrated me. It was insanely natural, comparable to a wooden spoon in a honey pot. Much the same as if my vagina was melted for your penis. 

And I moaned. 

I opened my eyes, and I was alone on my bed, alone on my room. My wet fingers exhausted by the performance, my legs full of cramps and the butterflies all over my body. My phone was still vibrating with your sexts which spoke about how you would lick me and fuck me. I didn’t even read them. I turned off the light and I slept.