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I was extremely grateful and surprised when my parents announced that they were going berry picking after supper was over and my brother was in charge of the dishes. I threw a satisfied grin in his direction after he glared at me, like this had been my idea. Suck it up kid, you’re living here for free; clean a dish for once.
After making sure the parental units were gone and baby brother was safely ensconced in a sink full of soap bubbles, I made my way back to my room and the computer. It didn’t take more than two minutes for the familiar voice of erotic reason to flood my ears and I settled in for a pleasant escape from reality.
Ten minutes and two stories later, I was wound up, unsettled, frustrated, and ready to hurl the computer against the wall. Even though the voice was as soothing as ever, the words seemed to grate against me. I didn’t want some random guy talking to me and hundreds of other random women about how hard his cock was. No, I couldn’t feel how good it felt to have him slide in and out of me. Yes, I wanted more, but it wasn’t going to actually happen, because he wasn’t actually there. I wanted to feel his skin, hear his breath in my ear, rake my fingernails down his back, grab his hair and smell his scent. All I had was some lube and a hair brush handle. I closed out of the site and started to sob into my pillow.
I was lonely. I was trading one hole-in-the-wall town for another; potential mates were few and far between in either one. I was trapped in a house with three other people who had no concept of privacy. And I was horny as hell with no one to do anything with to help make it better.
Ding! The soft sound told me someone was trying to make an internet phone call. Great, fantastic timing. The name told me it was a friend in Europe whom I hadn’t talked to in a long while. Why was he calling now? It was like 3:00 a.m. for him. I hastily wiped my face, grimaced at my image in the mirror, and answered the call.
“Hey, chickadee! Saw you were logged on! How are things,” I heard his voice float towards me. The screen was blank as neither of us had the camera function turned on.
I immediately burst into tears.
“Er, something wrong?”
“You gonna actually tell me what that something is?”
The floodgates opened and my friend got an earful of drama. I almost felt sorry for the guy, but since he brought it up, he got what he asked for. He was silent for a while afterwards. It got to the point where I thought he had ended the call.
“Turn on the camera.”
“What? Why on earth—”
“Damn it, just turn on the camera.”
I did as I was told. Wincing as a split screen of him and my own image came up, I looked directly into the eye of the camera. It saved me from having to see my own tear stained face for too long. God, I looked like hell.
“Mostly. For a couple of minutes anyway. Why,” I asked.
“That’s all we’ll need then. Grab a towel and lay down on the bed.”
“Oh, and any vibrators you might have laying around.”
“WHAT? Dude, I don’t own a vibrator. “
“We’re wasting time. Just do it.”
Again, I did as instructed. It seemed pretty obvious what he was getting bahis firmaları at, but in all the years we had known each other, this had never been brought up. Not seriously, anyway. We joked about getting together if we were both unmarried at 25, but it was said in jest. It was hard to believe he was actually getting me ready for some self-play.
“Done. Now what,” I asked the computer screen.
“Easy: strip. Then lay down on the bed with the towel underneath you.”
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Just do it.”
“Fine.” Then I turned off the camera.
“Hey! I have to be able to see you!”
“This ain’t no burlesque show. I am not stripping in front of you.” I smirked at his image as he glared at me across the time zones. Quickly, I shed my clothes, careful to keep them within reach in case someone decided to come check on me and I didn’t hear them right away. I lay down on the bed with the towel underneath me. Only then did I turn the camera back on.
“Nope, turn around so I can see between your legs.”
“Wow, subtle much? Is this how you woo over there?”
“You’re not getting wooed. You’re getting cyber screwed until you can’t see straight.”
I actually threw back my head and laughed at that statement. He was so matter-of-fact about it, which made the situation all the more absurd. But I did what he told me and made sure he got a full-on view of my pink pussy lips.
I was already starting to get wet. The idea of masturbating in front of a guy was simultaneously arousing and terrifying. Adding to that the fact that this guy had been a friend since childhood, and I felt my heart contract along with my cunt. Another wave of moisture slipped out from between my legs. Was I really about to do this? Yes I was, and it wasn’t taking too much convincing on his part, either.
I lay down on the bed, making sure that he was able to see exactly what he wanted. This meant that I couldn’t see him, but being able to hear his voice made up for it. He started by instructing me to touch my face, my ears, and neck. All very G rated. I was grateful for the innocent playfulness; it took the edge off of what was happening. As I hit the sweet spot behind my ear, I gave a little hiss of pleasure. More warmth seeped out of me down below. That towel under my ass didn’t stand a chance.
“Move down to your chest,” I heard him say.
Dutifully, I left my neck area, passed over my collar bone, and settled on the soft mounds of flesh. My nipples were instantly hard. I rolled them between my fingertips and felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. A gentle tug on them produced yet another jolt. I began to gently knead and grasp at my breasts. My nipples were erect and I could feel my heartbeat through them. I could feel my juices slide down my ass onto the towel.
“That’s enough now. Slide your hands down between your legs for me.” I could barely hear his voice over the pounding of my heart in my ears. I could feel a warm flush cover all of me. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own; it was almost a shock when they made contact with my wet lips. I sucked in air between my teeth in response.
I knew that he was still talking, telling me what to do, where to put my kaçak iddaa fingers, how to move my hands, but it became background noise. All I could concentrate on was the sensations that invaded my senses. I could smell my arousal in the air; the musky scent tickled my nose. My fingers were as slick as my outer lips as they slid up and around the outside of my pulsing cunt. The contractions of my womb were already starting, even though the pleasure had just started.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I purred, “that feels amazing.”
My fingertips found my waiting clit pushing out from underneath its hood. Making small circles, I began massaging the nub. My hips began to buck of their own accord. I rubbed harder, faster, trying to keep the clit stimulated at all times. The more my fingers moved over it, the more wetness slipped out of me and onto the towel. My pussy was begging for attention; I could feel the contractions grow stronger as the need increased. My breathing was ragged and I desperately tried to stay silent, lest I call attention to myself.
“You need to move your hands again before you cum.”
The intrusion of his voice was a shock. When did I stop listening to him? I wet my lips and asked, “Where else do I go?” I heard him chuckle.
“I want to watch you sink your fingers into that wet, hot cunt of yours. Fuck yourself for me. I want to see.”
Against my better judgment, I moved my fingers away from my clit. This had never worked before, but, what the hell? Maybe it would work this time. My hand moved to the outside lips of my entrance. I was so wet that I knew the lubricant wasn’t going to be needed. I slid one finger in between the lips as he demanded and gently pressed into myself.
I immediately knew that this was not going to work. Hoping that the sensation of fullness would help, I added another finger. Two fingers worked themselves in and out of my dripping cunt. Mechanically, I pushed in and pulled out several times before adding a third. Two pumps later I pulled them all out.
“Wait a minute, I never told you to stop. You certainly didn’t cum yet,” he protested.
I glared at him as I sat up and looked for some help.
“I hate feeling myself from the inside. And since I’m the one doing all the work, I’m adding an assistant.”
I found what I was after and laid back down on the bed. I could hear his protest, but I didn’t care. It may not look pretty, but the hairbrush handle was a hell of a lot closer to the erect cock I was so desperately craving than my fingers ever would be. I relaxed as I felt the handle slide into me, mimicking the sensation of a hard dick entering me. That was better. Much better indeed.
My pussy juices were still flowing as I felt the length filling me up, rubbing against my walls. My cunt contracted over the hardness, trying to keep it inside me. I slowly pumped into myself three times before picking up the speed. I spread my legs wider as I raised my hips, trying to drive the imaginary cock deeper into me. They gyrated of their own will and I felt the contractions tighten within me. I couldn’t stop pumping, my hands were possessed.
One hand remained on the shaft, guiding it in and out of my pussy while the other strayed back up to my chest. kaçak bahis My nipples were begging to be touched. Some of my juices still clung to my fingertips and I used the moisture to lubricate my motions. I rubbed over the left nipple first, feeling it harden even further. I flicked it with my fingernail gently and felt my cunt contract in response. My hand grasped at the entire breast, squeezing it in time to the thrusts below.
My juices were flowing even harder and sloppy wet sounds were coming from between my legs. I braced my legs against the dresser by the bed and tried to keep from falling off of the edge of the bed. The handle continued its relentless probing of my pussy. I was so close to cumming I just wanted to scream. But I didn’t dare. So I bit my lip and moaned softly instead.
I switched over to the right breast and began to please that one as well. Since the pussy juices were all used up on the left breast, I put my finger to my mouth and sucked on it to get it wet. I could taste myself in the residue. I licked three fingertips and savored the taste on my tongue. Then I returned them to the nipple. The wetness of my saliva eased the movements. When I flicked the nipple with my nail, I knew the end was close.
Bringing my hand back down to my thighs, I added it to the brush handle. I used both hands to guide it in and out, faster, harder, deeper. It was as if it couldn’t get quite to where I needed it the most. But that desperate feeling was fleeting. It was quickly replaced by a warmth circling around my pussy lips, twisting its way into my depths. My legs began to quake. My breath caught and I fought to keep putting air into my lungs. The sensation to hold my breath was overwhelming, but I knew that breathing would make my release even more spectacular.
And then it finally was there. It quickly built up around my tummy and grew to enfold my womb. It slid down my walls and tingled its way into my lips. I felt like I was on fire. I thrashed on the bed, flinging my head from one side to the other. I pumped the brush into me once, twice.
I broke into a million pieces as I was flung over the edge of the cliff. I heard my soft gasps for air and felt my pussy clamp down on the shaft. The lips massaged the length, trying to keep it within. Even my clit was throbbing in time to the contractions coming from inside my body.
It seemed both instantaneous and an eternity before I was back on earth, gasping for air and laying limp on the bed. A slight sheen of sweat covered my entire body. I was completely spent.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
I groaned. It was the only answer I could muster up. My friend laughed and I found myself giggling in return.
“Not that I want to end this, but you should probably get dressed. You’re not alone, after all.”
Groaning again, I sat up. The towel below me was soaked all the way through. The comforter and sheet were wet as well. The brush slid out on its own at my movement. I felt empty as it came out. I hurriedly wiped myself off as best I could and put my clothes back on. I sat back down in front of the computer and looked at my friend. We were separated by half of the North American continent, the entire Atlantic Ocean, three European countries and seven time zones. And yet he was able to help me find some sense of release.
As we began to chat and get up to speed on each others’ lives, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “No, not alone, indeed.”
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