A Word On What Your Words Do To Me

I read almost everything you write. I like most of it, but some of it makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes I have to take a break and reassess my relationship with you and your words. Occasionally it angers me. Maybe anger isn't the right word. It provokes a response that makes me feel...something that isn't agreement or joy That's OK. That's great even. The power of your words is affecting.

But sometimes what you write is so beautiful, so hot, so vivid that my reaction is instant. It's as though I'm responding to a flesh and blood sexual advance, but it's just words on a screen. Words that make my skin hot and prickly with goosebumps. Words that cause my nipples to tighten and force themselves against the now restrictive lace. Words that send a jolt to my cunt, making my clit pulse.

I especially like it when you post an orgasm audio file. Something additional to get off to after I've read your titillating words and begun to feel the flush that I know will lead to my orgasm. I prepare myself.

Gone are my skirt/jeans/shorts/dress/panties. My cunt is naked and open. My clit and inner lips already swollen, peeking out from the labia that usually hide them entirely from view. I can't see the rosy flush, but I know it's there. Soft, pink, smooth, and slick with juice. I click play on the file and then take my fingers to my clit.

Primed from the words written on your pages, my head is filled with images and my body filled with desire. I want to come. I want to fuck myself to the inspiration of your creation. Furious fingers gather the wetness, my pussy aching to feel something slip inside. Two fingers of my other hand slide in. I'm still tight, moving inside, finding the g-spot, feeling my muscles relax and admit the intrusion. Can I take a third? Maybe. Sometimes.

As her breathing comes more rapidly, so does mine. Do I match her breath for breath? She becomes like a lover whose rhythm I want to sync up to so that we're moving together. Inside my fingertips press and graze my g-spot. Outside two, sometimes three fingers work my clit. I'm tangled up in myself, wanting this orgasm so badly, but trying not to force it. Forcing it never works. Neither does wanting it too much.

Her voice rises. Where there was muffled panting before, now there are moans, sighs, honest-to-God sex sounds coming from my speakers. Sometimes I can hear how wet she is. I can hear how wet I am. My body gets too hot. I feel the beads of sweat gather on my chest, behind my knees as I work toward the orgasm.

She's almost there. So am I. I want to come with her. I let go and feel the warm pressure begin. It's inevitable now, and suddenly I'm racing closer and it's out of my control. And then I hear her come, and my cunt twitches, the heat flows, and that first clench makes me moan and cry out in release.

I begin to count. Sometimes it's only five or six spasms. Sometimes it's fifteen. Sometimes I stop myself because I'm afraid I'm going to squirt and soak the unprotected sheets. And sometimes I let it all go and fuck myself again through the come that drips from my pussy.

That's what your words do to me.

Republished with permission from Always Each Other. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo via Kindgirls.