I was wondering when you got the inclination for self portrait photography
So you sent me that image of you caressing yourself and I wrote:
Did you want to rather set up that video recorder?
As your hand caressed your thigh, you moved it consciously to your sex.
The blush sparking from your arousal through your torso, almost instantly racing
to and reaching your cheeks.
The thought of being watched overwhelming, at once both shocking and unbearably arousing. The need for your eyes to lock on mine through the lens of the camera absolute.
Soon the lens was a blur, visible to that other self, still in the room, your hand finding your pleasure, the other exploring new pleasures for you and me. The orgasm approached in unexpectedly quick waves, the thought of your coming making me come, the idea of me coming across your face, across your chest and collapsing spent together in a numb ecstatic one. 
to which she replied:
The scent and pleasure of the moment filling the room and our joyous breathing timeless silence. you possess that look that utterly tears me to pieces. soul removing – greedily consuming my heart, my body across the crowded room, drawing me closer past the room filled with chattering people. everyone oblivious to the blatant stripping off of my clothes.
I had waited, days, hours, minutes, split seconds for those familiar eyes…for that understanding of what I need
that moment of ripping… desperate hands, closer. I shudder as you reach for my wet sex. your knowing fingers – exquisite on my smooth soft wet skin.
my skirt, threaded on the floor. your breath close, so close the blonde hairs on my back shiver with utter pleasure – anticipating the strength of your hands..reaching to firmly imprison my body against you.
eyes locked i force my body away from yours, i unbutton your jeans. my tongue toys with my fingers – coaxing them to hasten. you stop breathing…i suck, cotton separating tongue from wanton hard fullness.
we have that look of fuck when we think of or see each other. it’s always there – at the airport, at a cocktail party, driving past in the street.
my lips part, my mouth warm, tingling with cool champagne against your hard cock. sinking inside me you gasp, a look of surprise on your face as I hungrily ravish my favorite part of you, sucking warmth, coolness mingling with my worshipping tongue. A tongue that can’t leave your smooth hungry skin.
Unfair you cry. O really? what of days of absent skin, days of not feeling you fill me, days of emptiness, just wetness of anticipation, unspent, gasping, wanting. Unfair? I think not.
This is unfair… as I remove my black silk stocking so unbearably slowly and tie your wrists above your head, my taut nipples brushing your cheek…your lips straining to be touched by mounds of swollen engorged flesh.
