In the dawn’s early light, I watch Madison get dressed for work. She’s being very quiet, trying not to wake me. I see her lean into the mirror, her blouse open, the curve of her behind neatly wrapped in a simple pair of white cotton bikini briefs. She applies her make-up, her eyeliner, blots her lips, runs the brush through her long, lustrous black hair. 

Watching her, instinctively, my hands reach for my nipples, already hard from the cool morning air blowing through the window. I’m still sore for our night of fucking. Our first night together since our first encounter over a month ago. There’s nothing soft or tender about the way Madison fucks me. She’s an animal, wild, untamed, and she brings out the same in me. Our hair flies as we claw and grasp at each other. Our hips buck. She grunts, makes guttural sounds of pleasure, hunger, desire. At one point she had three fingers inside me, long tendrils, each moving independently, stimulating different parts of my pussy all at once. The heel of her hand grinds against my clit.

I’m replaying our night together, gently caressing myself, watching Madison button her blouse. She slips on her skirt, tucks in her blouse, zips the skirt up from behind. She looks very professional. She grabs her heels, not wanting to make noise on our hardwood floors. I realize she’s going to leave without saying goodbye.

“No morning kiss?” I ask.

“You’re awake,” she whispers.

She sits beside me on the bed. I can smell my soaps and shampoo on her. She smells clean and fresh. 

“I see you’re ready to go again,” she says. For the first time since we’ve been together, she gently strokes my hair and leans in to kiss me tenderly on the forehead. “I’m sorry I have to catch my train.”

“I know. We’ll see each other again.”

“When?”

That is the question. I don’t know where people find the time for affairs. Between my job and Madison’s long commute to work, it’s been a month since we first had sex. Usually my husband, Brian, travels for work a few times a month, but lately he’s been home non-stop. This was his first business trip in ages, and he would only be gone for a day. 

Madison didn’t hesitate to text me that she was coming right over when I let her know. Now it’s already over and we have to say goodbye again.

“I don’t know. Tennis on Saturday?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

She kisses me softly on the lips. I love the way she takes control of me when we fuck. I love the way she commands my body, ravishes me like a beast devouring its prey. But I like this soft moment, too, with her hair falling in my face. Her hand slides down my belly and a finger slips inside me. 

“I want to have a taste of you with me on my train ride,” she winks. Then she slips out of the house.

I lie in bed thinking of her, devising ways we can be together again. I drift off to sleep. I wake to a text from her. She’s sent me selfies from the train. One of the hem of her skirt riding up slightly, exposing her luminous tanned thigh. Another of her finger to her lips, the finger which was inside me only a short while ago. 

I see the three dots anticipating what she will text next.

“Finger licking good” with a fire emoji and the laughing tears emoji.

It’s time for me to get ready for work. I hop in the shower. Soaping myself, caressing myself, I figure I still have time to bring myself to orgasm before I have to get dressed. My legs nearly buckle when I cum, the hot water cascading over my body, images of Madison’s small breasts in my mouth as our fingers work inside each other bring me to a delicious climax.

Then it’s time for me to come back to reality. 

We text on the regular. Occasionally we sext. She sends me plenty of photos to make my heart race. I’m still a bit shy about taking risqué selfies. She’s patient with me.

We still have our weekly tennis lesson at the club. Seeing each other for tennis is exciting and frustrating all at once. She reserves court 21 at the far reaches of the club. This court is kind of an island to itself, with woods and a creek on one side and the nearest other court about 100 feet down a shaded path. 

We need to be discreet, but we can sneak a kiss here and there. I can let my hand rest on her taut stomach for a few extra moments. Seeing her ponytail swing, watching the movement of her gorgeous, lithe body across the court, having her so close and yet not being able to taste her, to feel her nakedness against me is almost more tortuous than not seeing her at all. But I take what I can get.

It’s Friday. I’m trying not to daydream of her in my meeting at work when she texts “I have a surprise for you tomorrow.” My mind races. I can barely make it through the meeting, let alone the rest of the day.

I unwrap the little gift box she’s handed me on the tennis court. 

“What is it?” I ask, trying to decipher the pink image on the box. “Is this a sex toy?” I gasp.

“Shhhh.” There are people on the court nearby. “Not just any toy,” she says. “Give me your phone.”

She does what millennials do, her thumbs rapidly tapping away. When she hands me back the phone, she instructs me to run my finger along the dial on the screen. 

She lifts her foot, resting it on the edge of the net, as if she’s stretching her muscles. I’m distracted by the awe of her beauty, her long, slender legs, so toned. Her ponytail falling over her shoulder. The crotch of her panties is delightfully exposed under her mini-tennis dress. Then I see it, a pink tail with a little glowing tip underneath her underwear.

“Run your finger along the dial,” she says again.

I do, and now it’s her turn to gasp. I can see the light begin to blink and she pulls down her leg, bouncing up and down a bit, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” she tears the phone from my hand, “not so intense.”

“What just happened?”

She explains to me how it works, how we can control the intensity of the vibrations from anywhere in the world. It won’t be the same as being physically together, but we when we sext, we can experience a more, um, physical connection. 

These millennials and their technology!

Even with Brian home more often, I find time to sneak away for a long bath and a private chat with Madison. When he’s busy watching a ball game or playing video games, I’m testing the new toy with Madison. It takes awhile to get the hang of how we both like it. We both enjoy our trial runs. 

It starts with a text. Something like “Are you free?” or “Is it bath time?” I’ll tell Brian I’m going to take a bath. He absentmindedly waves, still immersed in whatever he’s doing. I run a steamy bath, without any bubbles so she can see me through the water. I make a video call to her. She’s usually already naked, in the childhood room where she grew up in her parent’s house. She wears earphones so they can’t hear us. I have to be on mute. We’ve developed a sign language.

Then we take turns, watching each other as she plays with the dial on her phone and I play with mine. I like a slow, loooong build, with easy vibrations to start, growing steadily. She prefers intensive bursts. High intensity, low rumble, high intensity, a constant yet unpredictable rhythm drives her wild. I still haven’t been able to squirt when I climax. And I haven’t mastered the device well enough to get her to squirt remotely. She says she cums and she enjoys it. I know I do.

“Have a min?” she texts me when I’m at work.

“Sure,” I text back.

“Lock your office door?”

“Madison…?” with the hand on the chin wondering emoji.

She just texts back the devil. Then “Do it.”

“Ok.” I’m confused and a little worried. She’s never texted me this kind of a message before. The devil emoji makes me think she has something mischievous planned rather than anything to really worry about.

“I can’t wait for Brian’s trip tomorrow. Open a chat window on your computer.” 

He’s going to be gone for three days this time. We’ve been anticipating it for a few days. I know exactly how she feels. The idea of another three uninterrupted days with Madison where we can touch and kiss and do whatever we please in the flesh, without a surreptitious kiss on the tennis court or the intermediary of a device, well, the thought has had me giddy for days.

Suddenly, I get a video call from Madison. I answer. I see her in her office with a few other people. She works in a bullpen kind of space where four people sit in a little group working pod. I can see one guy at his desk and just the back of a woman. Madison guides the camera under her desk. I can see the pink tail and the flashing light. 

“Do it,” she writes on the chat app.

“In your office? With people around?”

Two hands making a heart emoji. I open the app.

I start her more softly than usual, worried about how she might react in the office, concerned she’ll do something to accidentally alert her colleagues about what’s happening. I can see her legs shift a little.

“Why so wimpy?” with a sad face emoji.

I give her a jolt. She jumps in her seat a little. I know she makes a kind of sound when I turn up the heat like that. I can see her turn and say something to her colleagues.

“Omigod,” she writes. “Lol. Maybe that was a bit too much.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“No, no. Go again. I can do this.”

The sight of Madison’s bare legs under her desk is intoxicating. Her skirt is just above her knees. She’s wearing a lacy pair of black panties, very sheer, so I can really see the glow of the toy. Her colleagues are going about their business. I’m getting quite aroused, rubbing my hand between my thighs.

I find the right intensity for her. I know because of the way she wriggles her hips. How her legs shift. She’ll lift one leg so I can see her foot with her shoe dangling and an even more open view of her lace-covered pussy. I like the role reversal. Usually she’s the one who has the power and control over me. There’s something exhilarating about controlling her. But really, who’s controlling who, I wonder, as my breath quickens. I may be fingering the dial on the app, but she’s the one who made me do it. She’s the one texting me instructions. Even when I imagine I have control, I’m really still at her beck and call. Knowing that excites me even more. I unbutton my jeans so my fingers can slip into my panties.

We go on like this for nearly twenty minutes.

“I’m going to cum,” she writes.

“Wait for me,” I manage to tap out.

“What? Are you playing with yourself?”

“Mmmm” is all I can manage. It’s not easy to manipulate the dial, finger myself and type with her.

“Are you close?” she asks.

 By now I know the sequence of bringing her to the edge, holding her there, finally cresting the wave. I engage the sequence. 

I can see from the twist of her hips, her feet planted on the floor and her bum lifted slightly off the seat of her chair, she’s climaxing. Our timing is just a little off. I stop the vibrations for her so I can use both hands to finish myself.

I need to drop off the call quickly. I have to collect myself and prepare for a meeting in a few minutes. I can’t help but marvel at what Madison has done to bring me out of my shell. I can’t imagine what we just did. I would never have imagined how thrilling I could find such a brazen experience. Some intimacy may be lost through the interface of technology, yet somehow we’ve created a new intimacy which has brought us closer together in ways I didn’t consider. The virtual experience has given us a sixth sense for each other’s erogenous zones, which I’m sure will make us more attuned when we’re finally together again in the real world.

My body, my emotions, every ounce of me is wrapped up with my infatuation with Madison. I can’t wait to see what she introduces me to over the next few days when Brian is away.