I pull my smartphone from under my pillow and look for that message icon on the top left side of the screen. You are the only one on earth who knows my private messenger name and who has ever heard my voice through the cyber channels. Over the past month, I’ve slowly revealed myself to you, but not less intimately. I realize I might have made you uncomfortable yesterday when I exposed my breasts to you; but you told me not to apologize. However, you didn’t tell me not to do it again.

Your flirting skills need much improvement, but your innocence makes me smile. I love the way you tell me where you are going, what you are eating and what you are doing (all with pictures for proof). I feel you are here with me. I love that feeling to the point where it’s impossible to release it. Reality be damned again and again. Technology has taken over my life and you have taken over my heart. I reach out to you from a half a world away.

I can’t tell you how badly I want to show and give you pleasure, but your naiveté and strict background provide a strong barrier. I must remind myself that you are only 23 and I am old enough to have cradled you in my arms. I need to question if I’ve grown into a dirty old woman or someone who has just succumbed to her lust for a much younger man. Or is that one of the same? Who cares? you left a message for me to read.

You tell me you’re at the office and attach a picture of your sloppy desk for proof. I smile as I see the clutter that surrounds you. You are a busy young man, but still make time to talk to me. “Good morning, my man!” I reply back. I call you “my man” and you never say otherwise. Five hours later, I’m “tucking” you in bed. “Talk tomorrow,” I say and you send me my favorite emoticon, the smiley face with hearts for eyes. I send the same one back to you. We are speaking the same language.

I go about the rest of my day, mindful of your time zone. I can’t wait until we start chatting again. I go to bed, my smartphone still close by as I read our chat transcript, my heart pounding a little faster as I relive today’s conversation. As I read the texts and imagine your voice, I slowly become sexually stimulated.

I slide my fingers between my legs. My arousal is more evident than I imagined. I place the tip of my middle finger on my clit and gently rub it. I am so sexually saturated that I know I won’t last long, but I slow the pace and tease myself slowly wishing it was your fingers, your tongue doing the pleasing.

“God what I would do for one night with you,” I declare in my thoughts as my finger circles my throbbing clit.

I slip a finger inside my wet pussy, still thinking of the words we exchanged. I slip a second finger inside, finger fucking myself to new sexual heights. How I wish it was your cock inside me, releasing all your passionate sexual energy. I want to be your first. I want you to fuck me. I want you to claim me.

The thought of you taking me excites me even more and I please myself with greater vigor. I see your hard cock ready to fuck me and I imagine the feeling as you enter me. I rub my clit harder with each visual thrust as I imagine you on top of me pumping me with everything you have.

“Let it go. Let it go, baby!” I encourage you as I feel your young cock deep inside me.

Your thrusts are fast, somewhat clumsy, but it feels so damn good as it fills my wet pussy.

“I want you baby, don’t hold back. Don’t hold back!!” I whisper to you, begging for you to shoot your hot cum inside of me.

I feel your body quiver and you can barely get out a moan when I feel your orgasm enter me. Nice, warm ropes of your cum now mark me as yours.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s it,” I say soothingly as you slowly pump your cock in my pussy.

My mind replays your orgasm as my body responds to the fantasy. There is no longer anytime for teasing myself as I allow my body its release. I place two fingers on my clit and press them hard against it. The pleasure sends a jolt through my body as I rub it as fast as I could. My toes curl as my body stiffens, my nipples hard and sensitive with overwhelming arousal. 

I close my eyes tightly and let the pleasure take over. With your image still in my mind, I reach climax. I count each throb of orgasm as my body settles back and basks in the satisfaction.

Feeling a combination of exhaustion and fulfillment, I turn on my side and reach for my cell phone again to find another message from you, “on my way home,” your text reads with a picture of your car’s dashboard.

“I’ll be waiting. By the way, what are we having for dinner?” I reply back.

“Chinese Noodles,” you respond with a tongue-sticking-out emoticon.

“Mmmm, sounds good. Be careful driving,” I remind you as I get ready to have dinner with you from thousands of miles away.

I momentarily place my phone down and wait for the next text.