It had been twelve hours since she fucked me and I was still feeling the effects. Flashes of her heavenly body riding my lap on the sofa stung my mind at breakfast, amid household minutiae with my wife. I barely listened, head brimming with visions of flung back hair and gasps as I pawed the incredible breasts of a woman I didn't know at her breathless insistence.
The recollection had me hardening beneath the forgotten bowl of cornflakes. Though we hadn't been in the same room, every short message that appeared on my laptop made me believe we were. Sipping vodka in my home office, warming both my thoughts and libido, I stirred in my underwear anticipating each erotic moment she conjured.
She was a sensational writer, starting slow. Teasing. Building tension. Telling me we'd snuggle on the couch before clambering onto my lap, trailing tiny kisses across my throat and gently scraping her teeth over my earlobe. I could almost feel it all. Her fingertips drifting beneath the T-shirt up to my chest. Tender kiss, smouldering at first, becoming fiery. Tongues. Lips. Teeth. Hands clutching at one another, bodies crushing as passion swelled along with my cock at each sordid line of text drawing me further into her wonderfully filthy mind.
I'd freed my prick and stroked its length. Nothing existed but her words. I hung on every detail that popped onto the screen, minute by delicious minute, hardening fully in my fist, head swimming with dirty imagery she painted. When she laid my hands on her clothed breasts I could sense her heart beating beneath. Faster when she stripped our tops.
Although the entire two-hour conversation was an escalating, mind-blowing tease, teetering on our respective edges throughout, two aspects still floored me as I failed to focus on breakfast.
The first was after removing her bra, erect nipples brushing my chest, she said, working her way up until one was level with my taut exhalations. She wrote:
Bite it, please. I want to feel it sting...
I pictured the pebbled cherry hovering an inch from my lips, dark waves of hair framing it, tickling my cheek. Waiting, despite her grinding impatiently against my bursting erection. Quivering.
As her nipple slipped between my lips, I drew it into my mouth and sucked, teeth clamping over the tip. Biting. A low groan in her throat spilled into the room when I increased the pressure, her head thrown back, grabbing my neck as I lit her insides with flashes of pain soothed by a swirling tongue.
She whispered in my virtual ear, You've no idea how wet you're making me right now.
I gave her more. Bit harder until she begged to taste me. Slid to her knees and pulled my jeans and underwear down, circumcised cock springing free for her to lick, scratch and bite. She cupped my balls in her warm hand. Lapped at the same pre-come I smeared over my flared tip, imagining being engulfed, nudging her throat as she gazed up into my eyes and took every inch. Repetitive. Dirty. Needy. All teeth, lips and glistening saliva. In a frenzy, I grabbed her head and used her mouth until the surging pressure peaked.