You’ve always wanted the same thing, for as long as you can remember, haven’t you? Traditional job, traditional marriage, two-point-four children, and to raise them yourself at home. You’re so lucky that you got what you wanted - you know you should be satisfied, don’t you? However, as with all things, it’s become mundane. You're a drab little sparrow, trying to find crumbs of reward in a dreary life, and that’s why you join the sex site.

Suddenly, there’s a whole world out there. You can flirt and giggle your way through the long, dull evenings, when your husband works late, or stares at the TV and ignores you, and your children are finally in bed. You meet men - and women - from all over the world online, and you’re fascinated by the similarities and differences between them. Your well-ordered life blends into shades of grey and beige in the background of your mind, and instead you embrace a whole rainbow spectrum of new ideas and experiences, floating in a bubble of curiosity and desire. Even while your hands are engaged in laundry and housework, your mind and spirit roam, exploring these new avenues of possibilities.

It’s funny how you can “click” with someone you’ve never met. That connection that develops through the typed word only, and makes it so much easier to share intimate thoughts and feelings and desires with a stranger. Especially when he lives hundreds of miles away. It’s safe, meaning you can keep those two parts of your life separate. All you have to do is put your phone down, and return to being a wife and mother. Little brown sparrow, that no-one really notices.

Until he says he has to travel for work. He’ll be here. In your town. And now you have a decision to make. It’s been months of chatting online - you progressed from emails to live text chat, to voice messages, to photos, to phone calls… and now there’s this real, exciting, terrifying possibility.

Suddenly, your two worlds are colliding. Can you bear to keep living this monochrome life of work, grocery shopping, child-care, cooking, cleaning, round and round, never-ending cycle of dullness?

You can’t. These new thoughts and desires beat at the cage inside your head. That little sparrow has become a trapped hummingbird, fluttering its multi-coloured wings, desperate to escape those bars and explore the possibilities

He's already shown you so much. About yourself, your needs, and how he can satisfy them, mentally and physically. It's like he's in your head. He knows exactly how to make you writhe with desire, how to keep you balanced on that precipice of desperation, and how to tip you over. And he's never even touched you. You've spent so long pleasuring yourself at his command, imagining your fingers are his fingers, your toy is his cock. All the time, his voice is teasing, instructing, holding you back, pushing you to cum over and over again, until you're soaked and almost delirious with the strength of the feelings he inspires in you.

He frees your spirit, opens the cage and lets that bright, excited, curious hummingbird soar.

All the best stories hinge on the main character making a choice, and you’ve made yours. Life-changing, nerve-wracking, heart-stopping, spine-tingling, spirit-freeing, for better for worse, you’re going to do this…

Maybe.

The messages become a little terse the day before. You've got cold feet, but don't want to say so. He knows, but doesn't want to push you. This free spirit stuff can be a little intimidating.

"What if I can't?"

"If you can't make it, it's fine. I have to be here anyway, I'd love to see you, even if it's just for a walk, or coffee. It doesn't matter what does or doesn't happen."

You didn't mean if you can't make it, you meant if you can't let that hummingbird free; if you turn back into a sparrow again at the last minute.

There's a Starbucks, near the motorway. It's easy to find, and there's a place to walk through the trees. Through the trees, there's a field where no-one ever goes...

Coffee and a walk is perfectly sane and sensible. There will be people, and you can chat, make sure it's as easy and magical in person as it has been by phone. And then you can see if you want to be a sparrow or a hummingbird.

In the morning, you have a long, luxurious shower. With foam running over your slick skin, you shiver as you imagine how it will feel to have his hands on you, stroking, caressing, exploring. Pinching your nipples, you close your eyes, picturing him there in front of you. Your fingers slip between your wet lips, brushing over your sensitive clit, and the jolt of desire it creates makes your knees buckle, makes you moan aloud. Slipping a finger inside, then another, you anticipate his cock being there later today. You ache for him. That need is so strong, like a pull, a twist inside you. You don't want to cum now. Save it for him. You promised.

Every hair is plucked, every nail polished to perfection, makeup light and subtle. You leave your hair down - when he talks about pulling it, you melt. You need to feel that. After much deliberation, you've decided to wear a wrap-dress. All the planning ahead makes you smile. Just in case. The same just in case that made you check that the picnic blanket is still in the boot of the car.

Time flies... in spite of all your overthinking, you're suddenly there, in the carpark. And so is he. Taller and broader than he appeared from photos, he smiles, which is when you know it's going to be exactly as you hoped. You hug, fitting perfectly into his chest, his chin on the top of your head. That click that began in a chatroom a few months ago is so strong, it takes your breath away.

Raising your head, you look up into those eyes you've dreamed about. He kisses you, lightly at first, then deeper, his hand in your hair and FUCK, he's pulling it gently and you're not even a hummingbird now; you're a phoenix and there are flames and you don't want this feeling to end, ever.

"Coffee? Or a walk?"

"Walk, please... wait, I brought a blanket."

It's perfect weather, warm and breezy. You walk through the narrow grassy path between the trees together, and somehow your hand finds his, because you can't bear not to be touching him. The conversation is easy, flows naturally, but you can hear the slight breathlessness of anticipation in your own voice. Afterwards, you won't remember a word of what was said, just that feeling of excitement and inevitability. This is going to happen, everything you've imagined. No more sparrow, pecking at unsatisfying crumbs. You're going to fly free, hummingbird, swooping and soaring to your heart’s content.

The field at the end of the path slopes down to a tree, which you head for by mutual, unspoken consent. He lays out the checked blanket, and you lie facing each other. The grass hasn't been cut - wildflowers in shades of blue and purple dot the knee-high, straw-like fronds.

His kisses are more potent than drugs and his hands are on you, and you couldn't ever have imagined how amazing this feels. One is pulling your hair, more firmly now, controlling the kiss; the other slips between your legs.

"Open."

Your thighs part for him, so he can stroke gently along your slit through your panties. You moan into his mouth, pressing further into his touch, desperate for more. More everything.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me. Drenched already. I'm going to make you cum."

His finger slips beneath the fabric, slowly, teasing. You arch against it, silently begging for more as his mouth claims yours again. You've never really understood long kisses, but this is a whole new experience. His tongue sweeps over yours, gently exploring, encouraging you to be bold and do the same, even as you sink into submission beneath his touch.

His fingers shift, probe inside you, stretching, instantly finding that spot and pressing, stroking firmly. That's all it takes. You explode, gushing onto his hand, but he doesn't stop moving inside you, bringing you further and further into submissive, orgasmic bliss.

You're clinging onto him now, writhing on those clever fingers, fingers that know you so intimately, and they've brought you back up to that edge already.

"Again."

With that permission, you throw yourself over for the second time, clenching around him, taking your pleasure, feeling the pressure build into a climax that stuns you with its intensity. All those times you needed him to be holding you after you came so hard for him, and now he is, his arms around you, bringing you down. He moves his fingers to your lips so you can taste yourself on him. You suck greedily, loving the sweetness.

"More...please. Sir."

This kiss is more forceful - his teeth graze your tongue, he catches your lower lip and bites gently. He knows how much you need more. His hand guides yours down until you can feel his cock straining against fabric.

You outline that hardness with one finger, then stroke your hand more firmly over it, feeling how it fills your palm. It's not enough; you need skin on skin. He takes it out for you, without breaking this intense, captivating kiss. The hot, smooth heaviness of him in your hand makes you melt.

You stroke gently, reverently, then wrap your hand round and move more boldly, feeling his response.

“I want you to taste me.”

You slide down the length of his torso, and kiss the tip of his beautiful cock, swirling your tongue around the head before slipping the length greedily into your mouth. Brushing the underside with your tongue, you slide your lips up and down, sucking harder as you move up, releasing to sink back down, a little unsure of how to please him best.

Now his hand is in your hair again, grasping, guiding, moving you how he wants you. The feeling of being exactly what he desires, what he needs, is so unbelievably arousing and fulfilling. He bobs your head up and down his length, altering the speed and depth. He holds you still so he can fuck your mouth and you take it - you’re such a good girl.

When he’s had enough, he guides your head back to kiss you again, his hand slipping back down to stroke your soaking, swollen, sensitive clit. Within seconds, you’re on the edge again, but this time, he makes you wait.

“Please… please…”

“No. Not yet. Hold it. Wait… good girl, you can do it.”

You fight to control the rising momentum of your orgasm, breathing deeply, riding the wave, those fluttering wing-beats taking you higher and higher. His finger circles rhythmically, expertly, skimming and sliding over and around your slick nub, bringing your entire existence to that one tiny cluster of sensation. You know you’re just so fucking close. Just as you’re about to lose it, he relents.

“Cum now. Cum for me now.”

The relief of giving in is indescribable. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as you let the feelings totally overwhelm you, submitting completely to his control, his mastery over you.

Blinking slowly, you return to the real world.

You pick up your phone. Type:

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Go back to your grey and beige world, drab little sparrow.

One day you’ll be a hummingbird, a free spirit. One day you’ll fly.