I wrote that story for you with the fantasy of your receiving it in mind. I wanted that familiar quiver of desire to erupt when you received my mail. I wanted you to know you daren’t read it until you arrive home and can read it in erotic privacy. The distance between us enhances the desire embedded in the digital words. You dressed in lingerie today for me, even though we are continents apart and I will not see them, but you are nearly home and you are already imagining my breath catching on seeing a glimpse of that delicious lace. You are now turned on and not yet home, my story burning a trail from your laptop through that vivid imagination to your aching desire. You instantly realise how wet and needy you are. You wonder about my erection as I write this.
I fantasise about you reading my story and sharing every detail of your sensual journey with me, returning the favour of my words….
I am in the library, when your mail interrupts my academic intent. “Read later in private” you say. I have come to know what that means. The distraction is absolute. I consider reading the story in the deserted library and the fantasy of coming secretly to your words is scaring me in that I am considering it. Quiet enough at this time but I could never face being caught…the thought of discovery is an unexpected thrill though. I feel sexy in the underwear I am secretly wearing for you… the constriction of the bustier reminding me of you with every arousing bound breath. God I am turned on beyond belief, every movement an erotic tingle that needs to be fulfilled. I caress myself lightly, surreptitiously under the table like you instructed me to last week. Knowing I will write every quivering detail for you later is not helping my predicament. Fuck! I need to come for you soon. I suddenly remember your shared fantasy of me dressing with a remote controlled vibrator against my needy clitoris. I said I wouldn’t but my desire now betrays my reality, why, oh fuck why, did I deny you? Another illicit caress and I shove my papers carelessly into my bag, realising my cheeks are flushed and there is a trickle of wetness softening my inner thigh. Oh god, I need to escape into the darkness and make it home quickly. I want your words to lure me into orgasm now!
I read those words feeling the familiar hardness against the fly of my jeans. I pause my reading of your experience of my words to let my arousal echo softly through my mind. I need to return to your arrival home. Do you like how you are tuning me on? I wonder, knowing the answer in the twitch of my erection against the restrictive denim.
I caress the swell of my breast above the bustier I bought for you, but have not yet shared with you except in these words. I feel my nipple tighten, remembering my arousal, shopping for you in the lingerie stores’ changing room, remembering how the sight of you seeing me aroused makes you respond, my desire needs fulfilment now, I need to feel you insideof me, I need the throb of my clitoris caressed awake by your delicate touch, I need the roughness of your beard against my thigh, I need, oh god, as my hand finds the hard hungry exposed tip of my arousal under my diaphanous black panties, the sodden wetness of which rests against the back of my hands, as my minds eye pictures you watching me in yours, stroking yourself to orgasm while watching me. The words from your text binding me like the silk of your story. The electric quiver travels through my torso as I carelessly caress my self into delirium, coating myself in joyous liquid heat. I grab my nipple roughly imagining the bite of your teeth on me, while remembering how you enjoy watching me touch myself. I pull my nipple to the point where my body aches in vivid sensual pain and the sensation screams down me, to the pulsing caresses of my slick, wet, fingers on myself. 
I delay my orgasm knowing how this turns us both on, as I feel you watching me come. Your words pass in waves through me, taking me higher into sensual bliss. My body writhing against my own fingers’ exploration of the tendrils your thoughts and desires. My muscles tighten, my insides pulse in ripples of pleasure. It is too much, I can’t hold back, my body cries out in shuddering relief as I am filled with your desire for me. I gasp and moan low in orgasm for you, sure you can hear my crying ache for you through the distance. Mesmerised, I taste my own scent on my fingers, remembering the echoes of my own taste from your lips. Too much! I collapse in delirious semi-consciousness, desperately remembering every detail to later share with you. Will you come as you share my orgasm? I hope so, is my last echoing thought as I blissfully slip into the folds of sleep.
Watching you orgasm through the ether of distance and time is driving me wild. Fuck, your words are like the enveloping silken wet caress of the walls of your deliciously hungry cunt, swallowing my desire, throbbing in orgasm, milking my imminent orgasm into you, into delirious fulfilment. I come spilling my hot seed into you, onto you, longing for you. The shared words returning to connect us. My delirium in sharing yours, through the tunnel of our separation, the distant consummated embrace of mutual timeless orgasm fulfilled. I am one with you, through the exquisite, shuddering, spent echoes of this page.
