True Sex Stories: I Was A Chat Sex Virgin

… until yesterday. 

Two or so years ago, a very talented young man left me in a puddle after several hours of his digital ministrations.  Translation: I squirted at least five times as he tickled my pussy and fisted me. 

He asked nothing of me; his pleasure was derived from watching me writhe and scream.  I saw him twice in two days, days I remember fondly; those memories still get me hot.

He moved abroad not long after that, and we have stayed in touch on YIM.  We've chatted there a couple of times since we met, and both enjoy sharing our memories of those two days.

Yesterday was different.

He hit me just as I was walking in the door from a job interview.  Still wearing my coat, cords and boots, it didn't take long until I was hot as hell reading his eloquent descriptions of what he wanted to do to me.  He was going to take a long time first with my nipples, rolling, tweaking, pinching, sucking and biting.  He wanted my panties soaked before he'd remove them.   He wanted to tickle and tease me again, find all my hot spots:  my clit, my G-spot.  He wanted to press his hand against my mound as he massaged my G-spot until I gushed. 

Somewhere between his description of his plans for my nipples and the time he got to my panties, I went for my vibrator.  First over my pants and then under them, I stimulated myself as I continued reading.  He wrote in the short bursts of chat I prefer:  no long waiting between notes, moving right along, growing ever clearer and steamier as he went along. 

Finally, when the chair just wasn't working for me, I unplugged the computer, moved it to the floor and removed my pants (my coat was still on).  Stretched out on my new carpet, I was better able to maneuver the vibrator the way I wanted it.  I continued to read, unable to write back as I slowly played with myself.  I took my time, as he was, circling tantalizingly away from my clit and the orgasm I knew I would be generated there. 

He wrote to me for about twenty minutes.  The man knows just what I like:  slow, teasing circles around my holes, returning to my clit every few moments, then back to slowly, slowly inserting one, then two, three, four fingers as his thumb continued to work my clit.  When he told me his whole fist was in me, kneading my insides with his knuckles, I came hard.  My eyes closed and I missed some of his writing.  I finally removed my coat and returned to the screen, telling him of my orgasm and thanking him for it.  I asked if he was hard, and offered to get him off in kind, but he cheerfully declined. 

Off to buy new batteries today.

Republished with permission from Liz Doherty. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.