Mr. Neb ( SEPTEMBER 99)
I have never met Nancy, my Internet pen pal.
We exchanged emails and the occasional ICQ message. We have never 'chatted'.
The subject matter was always intelligent, provocative, risque', loaded with double meanings, but so far, not very graphic.
Surprisingly, we have learned quite a bit about each other in regards to our sexual preferences.
Oddly, our preferences and interests are very similar.
Our emails and messages were the fodder of my fantasy and fantasy is the fuel of masturbation.
That was the task now Ôat handÕ. (Pun very much intended.)
The house was quiet.
The windows in the bedroom were open, allowing the gentle cool breeze to continually refresh the room.
The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow throughout the room.
Naked, I laid down on top of the sheets of the freshly made bed. Anticipation alone provided me with a complete erection.
I laid there motionless for just a moment.
My penis, now eight inches of stick-straight erectness, subtly throbbed with each heartbeat.
My cock and scrotum, shaved completely, were tickled by the delicate air currents.
I began to recall what I knew of my correspondent.
I created her from my previous mental notes.
Slowly, her image appeared to me, blonde, voluptuous, naked and tanned. She drifted before me.
She could see me in my present state and smiled with approval. My virtual lover began her encouragement. Her hands caressed her body, sliding along her hips, her waste, her stomach, and then to her breasts. She seductively licked her lips just as her fingers slid over her hard red nipples. She smiled again at me and firmly massaged her breasts, pushing and squeezing them, as I would have.
My body began its all-to-familiar routine.
A glycerin-like drop appeared at the tip of my cock. This would be just the beginning.
My production of such lubricant, as with the eventual product of my climax, was always remarkably abundant and verged on an anatomical oddity.
We had exchanged a related bit of information.
We both enjoyed the wetter aspects of sex.
It was an integral component to our arousal and enjoyment, not an annoyance to be avoided or eliminated at the soonest available moment.
Neither of us shied away from the juices we produced. On the contrary, we eagerly and fully enjoyed their presence through the senses of sight, texture, smell and taste.
We wholeheartedly encouraged their production.
I was certainly holding up my part of the bargain.
With my imaginary lover floating before me, a riverlet of clear pre-cum now flowed from the crown of my throbbing cock to its base. Hungry for contact, my fingers caressed my scrotum, warm and drawn tight up against my body.
Gently I touched myself, my fingertips feeling the round contours of my testicles through my taught, smooth and hairless skin.
I wrapped my fingers around the base of my erection for the first time and drew them up to the head.
The resulting internal pumping caused a large expulsion of precum.
My ghostly companion breathed deeply, her breasts heaved accordingly, in obvious support. In an expression of our common interests and her desire to arouse, my phantom let a dribble of saliva trickle from the corner of her red-lipsticked mouth. It fell from her chin to her breast.
My efforts transitioned to a new level.
I wanted more than just the visual stimulation from by translucent companion.
I wanted to touch her, to smell her and above all, taste her. I wanted the same for her. I wanted her to touch me, to smell me and above all, taste me.
My hand took firm control and slid all around my cock. Slippery precum soon coated my hand, creating a velvety smooth feeling. That sensation was wonderful, but could not compare with that of the dripping lips or pussy of a woman.
I wanted that feeling badly and so I created it as best as I could. But first, I wanted proof. I wanted proof that my mental friend was as aroused as I.
The ghost of Nancy floated above me. Her soft long legs parted. As clear as if in reality, I looked up at her soft hairless pussy. Her lips were pink, swollen and pouty with excitement.
Her long-nailed fingers seductively parted those lips and I could see her inner flesh glisten. She slowly and with deliberate intentions, touched her budding clitoris and rubbed her luscious opening.
She became more and more excited, more and more damp until her gift was presented. A long silver droplet left the lips of her pussy and stretched at the end of a clear thread down to my face.
The single drop touched my lips and seared them with a heatless intensity.
The smell of the womanâs arousal shot through my nose as if it were actually present.
With little effort I imagined the drop of the miraculous nectar slipping between my lips and touching my tongue. Instantly I created the exotic taste and texture of the juices of a woman.
With my eyes closed, I licked my lips.
My attentions to my cock increased.
I could smell my own arousal. My wispy vision continued to encourage me. She floated back down my body until she hovered over my abdomen. Like a snowflake in a gentle wind she lowered and her phantom pussy enveloped me completely, my own hand providing the surrogate contact.
A huge dribble of precum oozed from the opening and was soon distributed along my length where it would do the most good. My stroking intensified and created the same rhythm as my lover would have.
Her complete body rising and falling, continually impaled on my engorged cock, her wonderful breasts heaving and jiggling in counter rhythm.
Faster and faster I made the ghost ride me. Louder and louder I had her exclaim her feelings of pleasure, her secret wants and her deepest desires.
In a tumultuous explosion I granted her release.
In the absence of real feelings, I could only create the image of her sweet cum seeping all around by cock, still deeply buried in her. I vainly tried to recreate the twitches and spasms that my cock would have experienced if this were all real. I took what little factual information I knew of my distant friend and embellished it as I required. I expanded to ultimate limits her expression that she too loved to experience the textures, smells and tastes of our natural lubrication and ejaculations.
I fabricated the gestures and acts that I wanted her to do as a result of her own pleasures and desires. I quickly rationalized away the fact that they came from my imagination. No. This is what she wanted to do.
This is what she loved to do. Nancyâs floating body rose off of me.
She drifted down between my legs. Her beautiful face looked back up at me, my hard cock partially obstructing the view. No, she did not take me into her mouth. She moved against me.
My cock, soaked in real precum and imaginary female juices slid against her face. The mixture smeared warmly on her red lips and her cheeks. Back and forth my hard rubbery cock bounced over her face. She continued until her face was slick and glistening in the setting sunlight.
With all the power of my imagination, her vision moved up my body, her wet face getting closer and closer to mine.
Then contact! Our lips touched! Her wet tongue slipped into my mouth and mine into hers.
The experienced portions of my brain fired off the familiar warm, soft, slippery and sweet sensations of a womanâs cum. What better way to receive them than by the face, lips, and tongue of their producer! I was in the final stages of the whole procedure. My orgasm, my real orgasm was fast approaching. My hand was all over me. I rubbed hard at my balls. I vigorously stroked my cock in long and fast motions. I was wet and sticky in my own juices. I held the base for my pretend partner.
ÔTake meÕ, I fantasized. It is quite possible that I also spoke the words. ÔTake me into your mouth.
Desire me! Desire my hardness between you lips.
Desire my cock filling your mouth. Desire my eruption! Desire the warmth! Desire the sensation of thick spurting cum!
Desire the taste of cum that would bathe your tongue! Beg me for it. Plead with me to release myself into you.
Encourage the intensity of my orgasm by tickling my balls with your fingernails. Suck my cock hard as if to draw me out.Õ
Reality and imagination collided in a shattering climax.
My mind followed through with the selfish visions that I so desperately craved. Long intense expulsions of thick semen left me and mentally entered the mouth of my friend, as she fictitiously desired. She moaned and continued to suck me as her mouth filed.
My mindÕs eye fabricated the sight of saliva mixed cum dribbling from her lips as I continued to spurt between them.
The sensations of reality began to sink in but my mind refused to confess the fact that I was alone.
The warm sensation of real cum at the base of my cock and along my abdomen did not come directly from me! My ejaculate had not leapt from my erupting cock to fall in thick bands on my stomach and chest.
It was not coating my hand still urging my orgasm to completion. No! No! Nancy took me as I fantasized she would want to!
This was her idea. She loves this! She told me so!
This was her idea, her desire, and her chosen method to enjoy my texture and taste.
My spurting cock was in her mouth and so must be my climax! Surely that is what I felt. Surely I was feeling Nancy open her mouth to release its contents in as seductive a manner as possible.
What she could not retain she was slowly and seductively allowing to flow from her mouth down onto me.
The visions that were so vivid just moments ago now faded in and out. It was harder to picture my fantasy of Nancy.
Soon, her image was missing more times than I was able to retain it.
Eventually, she was gone and I was again alone.
My body went limp in an attempt to recover.
My arms fell to my side. My body, although fully exposed to the cool air, was very warm.
My cock, still long and firm but not as erect, lay up against my abdomen. The long streaks of warm semen were splattered from my abdomen across my stomach. Once a thick rich white, they were becoming a thin translucent gray as they liquefied.
I would lie there for a while. I was in no hurry.
There was never a rush to clean up. There was never a rush to end the feelings and the smells. My only regret was that in reality, at least this time, I was the only one that had created them.
Prisoner 96 Is OUTTA There - I don’t suppose we can blame Prisoner 69 (did you see his nametag?) for being unmotivated about this prison break, but it doesn’t take a lot of imagination...
1 day ago