http://www.mrdouble.com



                      "ONLINE EROTICA"

    Sitting, half stupid with lack of sleep, I typed with my mates
on Traveler while wearing my sleeping husband's robe. Still horny
even after a very satisfying night with him. My feet kicked up on
the desk while I typed with the keyboard laying haplessly across my
bare thighs. I was trying desperately to drudge up some life from
the late nighters online and then an idea struck me. I would simply
type to them what I was really doing as they watched on, I am sure
in anticipation. My thighs were still slick, as was the rest of my
body, from the massage oil that covered them. Sweet smelling and
making me feel every bit a woman. I smiled a bit as I typed on. I
seemed to have had one rather interested voyeur using his initials
as his alias. I knew that he had never seen the sights that I could
show online and I sought to make his first time one that he would
remember for awhile. I wondered what his fetishes were, what he
wanted to read, wanting to make it more than just pure fantasy, to
add the truth in as well and to satisfy us both. I awaited to see if
he would give me feedback on his desires. I thought of what most men
liked, to see a woman touch herself as I began typing one handed and
caressed my breasts lightly as I moved the top of the robe off of my
ivory flesh, feeling the heat of my body well past midnight. My
caresses were at first light as I was nervous about it all, this
being one of the few times that I didn't dedicate myself in whole to
my writing, but to my own body as well, as I typed on, feeling the
softness of my skin, the silkiness of my hair as it fell across one
creamy mound though I continually brushed it away. I could feel my
juices begin to flow more though as I came to be at ease with yet
another part of my sexuality. Feeling almost as if I was daring the
devil I set the keyboard down on the desk and spread my thighs apart
a bit more, relaxing in the rocking chair as I reached down and ran
one long finger down the length of my hot slit. The skin of my outer
lips was smooth and soft, only a bit of downy hair growing back from
the last time I shaved. The moist heat was captivating to my sense
of touch and in turn, a catalyst to my imagination as I stroked
myself once again, letting my head fall against the back of the
chair and allowing my inhibitions to flow out of my body on easy
waves. Ahhhh, yes, I sighed, as my body began to truly relax. I
stroked then at my inner thighs, thinking of earlier that night, the
ever sweet and loving touches that never failed to arouse me. I
tried to mimic those touches, the gentleness of wanton hands that
care, the sense of desire that comes through in underestimated
tactile imagery. And I enjoyed, as most men also do, watching myself
as I touched my own body. My essence set free of societal beliefs
and taboos. The purity of lust and cravings. I raised both of my
hands to my soft, creamy mounds, bringing them together and massaged
them nimbly, taking each nipple between my thumb and forefinger and
squeezing ever so gently, pinching lightly as they grew hard and
became erected temples of my own figure, standing out and reacting
as if they were sentient beings unto themselves, fueling the fire
that blazed within. I could feel my sex become wetter as I continued
rubbing and kneading at my breasts, occasionally running a hand
across my stomach as the muscles tightened and relaxed, tightened
and relaxed as my box became slick with my juices. And as it
sometimes does, the full force of my cravings came upon me in a wave
like a hurricane's and I dropped one of my hands to my clit, unable
to keep from touching it any longer, wanting nothing more than the
unadulterated pleasure that comes from direct contact with my clit.
It was swollen from its hood, hard and eager for that first direct
touch and as I stroked it, it was like electricity shooting
throughout my body, causing me to raise my hips, arching my back
towards the self-stimulation and making me stroke the rose-pink bud
again as I moaned softly in the dark room with only the light of the
monitor lighting my self-pleasuring act, casting shadows upon my
body. My strokings became fast and fervent upon my clit as the fiery
desire grew even stronger within my stomach, chasing down to my most
private parts. I would, without thinking, drop my stroke lower to
slip a finger quickly inside my velvet tunnel and play there for a
few brief moments only to come back to my aching clit, reaching for
the perfect pleasure and making my head spin with every touch and
the world become grey for a time as I worked. I moved my other hand
away from my breasts and quickly to my inner thighs, switching back
and forth between them, roughly rubbing them as I worked furiously
at my clit, lost in my own private thoughts and fantasies. My climax
building quickly now, welling up inside my body until I felt as if I
would explode with it. The signs were there, each and every one of
them, that I could take myself over the edge whenever I so chose,
but I liked it on the edge and wanted to hold it for as long as I
could and it was the natural desire to have my passage of pleasure
filled that brought me to height of all bodily pleasure as I thrust
two fingers into myself and stroked down hard upon my swollen clit.
My hips rose with my hand's thrust and my fingers' final hard
stroke, pushing against my own hand to feel the penetration of my
fantasy. It felt as if it lasted an eternity, racking my body with
such sweet pleasures, first in hard gusts and then falling slowly to
a caressing wave-like wind. I stroked slowly at my clit, feeling the
muscle of my soaking sex box tighten and relax in slowing motions. I
fell back against the chair again, not having even realized that I
all but came out of it. My feet still on the computer desk, my legs
shaking, I thought seriously, as I sighed deeply with satisfaction,
about waking my husband from his sound sleep with a sweet caress and
a warm mouth to start his day off right.

                 copyright (C) 1993 ELYSIA'S EROTICA
                 no modifications - distribution by
                  HERMIT ON THE HILL STUDIOS and/or
                            author only.
 
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