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Emailed Orgasms

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Email To: Her

           From: Annie

 

Hey gorgeous.

Don’t even pretend to be surprised, you so knew I would email you straight back. Well, not exactly straight back, giggles, my puss distracted me.

I just can’t help myself anymore. Not that I seriously tried, your emails were catnip right from the start.

And now, you ask? Well now your emails aren’t just words anymore; fuck, once again you emailed me a scrumptious orgasm.

Do you remember how surprised we were early on? Surprised at being not surprised; yes, that does make sense. Everything you wrote found an echo in me. And likewise, I seemed to have trodden your path.

I’ve never told you my silliness at first; weirdly worried I’d found a displaced sibling. We have so few boundaries, but incest really isn’t our thing.

I adore how we continue to colonise our language; libidinous, salacious, licentious, lascivious. And that is just you.

Do you remember the first time? Stop it; I mean the first email, you tease. I know you remember your virginity lost; the way you wrote, it was like I was there.

Such a sweet first email saying wonderful things; flattery is this writer’s drug of choice. That set our destiny right from that start. Yes, it so did, revealing the first link in the chain that connects us.

You must remember my nice reply? I added that personal titbit just for you. Not foreseeing that was like stepping on a luge; yes, that is what our email chain then became. Together on revelations’ slippery slope; sliding through twists and turns, ever faster; the joy of relinquishing control.

I don’t want to get all Gutenberg on you; yes, your emails do materialise in standard form. But that isn’t how I see them; no not at all. Not the printing press, you are more like a monk.

I know what you are thinking, as I envisage a pout. The monk’s chaste life has never been ours. But you do seem like the Venerable Bede. All parchment and quill, a personal view, the history longhand. Though, we are so not ecclesiastical; perhaps I’ve pushed that analogy too far.

Do you know of the Goddess Inanna? She revealed her nakedness in seven sexy stages. She really does remind me of you.

Yet it isn’t your body I am thinking about. We quickly formed a clear picture of each other; you lasered not shaved while I am taller, blonder, broader shouldered too. I know you are as gorgeously cute as you seem to find me.

Of course, our boobs would be the same size. Giggles, we so share the quarter cup as our weapon of mass seduction.

Rather, you stripped away pretence, progressively unveiling your life’s sexual journey. Likewise, my secrets aren’t secrets when I email you. That drove our slippery slide into our special place.

Sitting out the usual posturing dance has liberated me. One part now flows particularly free. Yes, you minx, you know where I mean.

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At first, I would squirm while looking at your words, thinking it improper to touch as I read. But seeing your libidinous secrets loosened me, particularly knowing your self-control was also slipping away.

I have changed my ritual, that will excite you too.

I usually lie naked on the downstairs bed. Giggles, except when it isn’t used!! Only you know exactly what that means.

I never rush, you have got me more tantric than that. My pussy gets dewy wondering what your email will contain. You do realise anticipation is your sexiest gift to me.

When your email opens, it douses me in waterfall splashes. The words drip onto my head, engage my mind, then seep into my core. My nips react first; like yours, they have always had a mind of their own. They harden, I make them be patient awhile; but they clamour, boy do they clamour, desperate to be touched.

Rolling my nipples triggers my clit. You are a magician you know; what your words draw from my body is a conjuring trick. I have learnt the wisdom of reading on my thickest towel.

I read your email in several ways. Sometimes, with a vibe in my pussy, I read your words out loud. The rhythm of speaking pushes me gently onto my toy. And aching slowly my orgasm builds, your delicious words inching me forward.

I usually re-read your previous emails as part of my play. I like to savour my discovery of the licentious you; my early glimpses of your concentrated sexiness. In my mind you are barely covered by that red bikini, you know the brand we talked about. You as Phoebe Cates; that will trigger the emailed orgasm that claims me as yours.

But lately, the tempo has changed. Your emotional nakedness causes me to surge. I use my toy to take myself hard. In truth imagining you doing as you please; beating my arse, pulling my hair, your strap-on pounding me from behind, driving me crazy by varying the penetration speed. God sometimes even taking my arse.

Reading while riding my toy, I also picture you taken by one from your menagerie of lovers. Your lascivious exploits grist to my mill of a puss. More than my vibe, your words vibrate my clit. The orgasms incredibly heartfelt, bathing, as I am, in the intensity of knowing the real you.

Others probably think it odd we rarely chat. They miss the point, they totally do. What we have is a unique sensual joy. I’m continually seduced by your emails; now my orgasm of choice.

Don’t you dare stop emailing, my delightfully salacious friend. I adore the you that materializes from your words. Knowing you know what I rarely share has unlocked a hunger in me; a need to inhale our favourite scents, ones only found deep in the garden of sexual delight.

Laying this bare has triggered me. Never again can they just be words from you; I am going to cum, my love.

 

Love Annie

Published 
Written by CuriousAnnie
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