"Wasn't that amazing, babe?" he boasts. His pride oozes from every pore, just as his cum still oozes from my unsatisfied body.

Unfortunately for him, I am unimpressed. I rise. I wrap the sheet around my naked body. And I give him an uninterested, "Mhm."

Then I hear him snoring already and realize he never even heard my indifference.

Seven minutes start to finish, and now I stand in the bathroom wanting to scream at the top of my lungs. Not in anger, not in sadness, but rather, scream just to disrupt his peaceful slumber—a childish tantrum in response to years of selfish and unsatisfying sex with my husband.

But I remain silent.

Soundlessly, I clean away all evidence of his cold attempt to be close to me, and I slip into my robe.

Noiselessly, I cross the hall from the bathroom to my office with the stealth moves of a night-prowling cat hunting her latest meal.

I am hunting for my laptop. I settle into the comfy couch and log in with excitement rushing through my body.

My Lush account's familiar red and black comes to the screen, and I see that HE is on already. I immediately begin to tingle just seeing his name with that little green light. I am barely there for fifteen seconds before my IM dings, and I see his words that never fail to stir me from my lips to my loins.

"Hi, lover."

And so, it begins.

Even our hellos are foreplay. There is sincerity in him that makes me feel cared for and wanted.

I am not naïve; I know everything a rational person would say about these online interactions that are just words on a page, never talking, never meeting.

Now ask me if I care. I need to feel like a sexy woman, and he does that for me in the here and now. So, no, I don't care.

He asks me what I am wearing and tells me how much he needs to be close to me tonight.

I feel the yearning in his tone – we need each other tonight.

He tells me to untie my robe, so I do. Faking it never even occurs to me.

He tells me to rub my nipples as if his hands and fingers are exploring my breasts and playing with their tips, pinching, pulling, then finally, as I beg, sucking on my nipples.

As I do, I feel the electricity run from my tits to my pelvis. I roll both nipples simultaneously, pinch and pull to the point of slight pain, but pleasure as well. I realize I am moaning out loud and must struggle to suppress my excitement.

He laughs when I tell him this and says to be careful.

He calls me his alluring goddess; he makes me feel beautiful. He talks of investigating every peak and valley of my body with his soft lips and fingertips, like an eager explorer in a new land.

With a giggle at his metaphor, my excitement, and my yearning grow. When I admit this to my lover, new instructions come across the screen.

I know what is coming next. We have a familiar back and forth. There is intimacy in this familiarity that I adore. When his message comes, I run my fingers between my legs, along the inside of my thighs.

Shivers run up my spine, my shoulders roll forward, and I exhale loudly at this touch, wishing it was his. At the next ding, my fingers begin to stroke my soft, velvety lips that are drenched in my own juices now. My body takes over, and my back arches as he writes to close my eyes and think of his tongue licking my beautiful lips.

I am so entranced in my euphoria; I cannot even type a response.

I know what he will type next, but this feels so good I don't want to move yet. I say, "Please, don't stop for a moment."

"Of course, my darling, all I want is to make you feel good."

He talks of licking my mound until I make my honey for him, and he will drink it all in. I coo on my end of the computer.

As if instinctively, he knows when it is time to move on, telling me his tongue is ready to part my lips and suck on my beautifully swollen clit. With that, I push my fingers between my folds and press her hard. Keeping the pressure, I make small circles that get bigger and bigger as my back arches, my knees drop wide open, and I throw my head back in delight.

Just then, his message says, finger fuck yourself for me, baby, take yourself to the limit with me.

And I do.

I slide two fingers into my wet, tight pussy and feel my tunnel stretch slightly just as it would to his thick cock. Thinking only of his cock inside me, I ravage my pussy and find that special spot that sends me over the edge.

My body finds its sweet release moments before my mind registers the deep eruption of gluttonous indulgence around my clit and the bright explosion of decadent fireworks from my g spot over and over and over again.

In the few seconds, it takes for my mind to catch up with my body, I hold my breath; then the scream that has been building inside me needs to come out. I turn my head into the couch cushion and just hope beyond hope it is enough to silence the volume of my pleasure ringing out like church bells.

When I finally catch my breath and return to the screen, I see that he has also found bliss in our conversation and helping me climax. We regale each other with our mutual admiration for each other.

As we start to say our goodbyes, I point out that we have been chatting for nearly ninety minutes. We both laugh at the cliché of how time flies. Then he makes me coo again with,

“Darling, minutes are irrelevant when in ecstasy with you.”

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