She and I had a bond. A bond without the any inhibitions or awkwardness that would come through actually meeting. We used each other as a repository for words, to write to, to think to, to share with. Writing as therapy.
We exchanged words for months. We wrote things to each other we couldn’t write to anyone else. Sexy words, personal words, words about ourselves, each other and our relationships, words of humour, eroticism and of love.
I was her role model, her inspiration. She flattered me with adjectives; genuine, loyal, dependable, wonderful, adorable. She said she loved me; loved my totality, all of me. Even loving my cracks, faults, frustrations and insecurities. They made me complete. To her, my imperfections made me perfect.
She told me I had made her cum.
I gave her an orgasm; she called it a ‘big tingling explosive god fucking wham bam of lovely orgasm’. An orgasm born of our exchanges, of the outpourings from my filthy mind to screen, to her.
Her description made me squirm as I imagined every intimate touch, how her breathing would get deeper, her soft skin flushing, heat rising. Her words made me a voyeur to her private moment. Her words helped me realise the power of my own.
I felt like I was there with her reading my messages, feeling their impact as the stirring inside her became too much, as she became wet, slidey lovely slippery wet, the kind of wet that needs touching.
Breathing heavily, she slipped her hands down her knickers, stroking her clit in increasing circles, feeling the heat from her pussy as it tingled. Slipping a finger inside, imagining it were my fingers pleasing her, my body on top of her, my whispers in her ear “Good girl, cum for me now”….
She felt sexy. She felt like she could cum and cum and cum.
Closing her eyes, imagining me there, orgasm took her, her whole body. A needed release.
I was proud of her.
She is gone now but now I have you, to share with, to explore with. Without any of the logistics of meeting, real life arrangements, small talk.
Just my words. My uniqueness, My perfection and my flaws. My power.