tagFetishNo Resistance

No Resistance

bygr8_4play©

He had intended to not let her occupy his mind. He had, with great convictions, settled upon limits for their conversations both in time and scope. But as he checked an instant messaging service and saw that she was there, all of those determinations evaporated. He was light headed and a stirring in his stomach swept through him, and like a man in a trance he had clicked on her name and typed "hi".

He never knew with certainty what her mood might be. Casual, or guarded... or with sweet surprising abandon. He was a careful and calculating man who prized himself in being able to stay in control in situations... and made his living with those skills. But he also knew he had crossed so many of his own boundaries, and of hers. He knew that better sense would have warned him of hitting the "send" button with some things he had shared with her. Personal confessions and embarrassing pictures of which he rolled his eyes and then blinked hard to try to forget that he had been such a fool.

Somehow he wanted her to see him, to know him... to be forewarned of his... his what? His darker soul? His wild abandon? He wasn't sure himself. This was new and uncharted waters for him and he felt as though at any moment he would be cast upon the rugged reefs or left adrift on some emotional dessert isle.

His breath came short when her response popped up "hi" to his. His fingers began to lose the dexterity of keyboard skills of which he was proud and his mind swirled. A good deep breath, and he determined to keep it casual today! "How's your day?"

He waited. He had no idea why she would bother to take her time to chat with him? He had seen her picture and knew she was cute. A thousand other men from the chat rooms would have killed to change places with him... he was strangely honored that she was so accepting of him and his interests. She replied... "I'm feeling fantastic!"

His spirit lifted and a smile crossed his face. She was in a good mood. The day before had been a day of excitement. They had chatted and set a "rendevous." It seemed that both of them felt a stirring each time they chatted and their conversations had been intimate. She had dressed for him the day before. Stockings and black lacy panties. A long skirt to cover the way she loved to pleasure herself during their conversations... sitting on her leg with her heal tucked up in intimate places.

He was a little embarrassed because he was so keyed up that he was almost beyond constraints when the telephone rang and he heard her voice. He wanted to please her and hear her voice crescendo with the pleasure of their being together, but as they talked he found himself approaching that precipice over which he had no control and he could only groan with the release that had so conquered him.

She was so sweet about it. Through the day as they "IM"ed he knew she was still not fully satiated and he had longed to have pleasured her until she could only moan "No more!" But he knew that her pleasure that day was to come at her own command and within her own relm of satisfaction.

Then the screen came up... "Can we talk?"

Wow... he felt like he had just turned a high speed turn in a jet. His eyes grayed for a moment as his heart raced. She wanted to talk by phone again. He melted for a moment before he could gather himself to answer "Yes."

Somewhere in the fog of his brain had been his resolution to "keep it casual today." But he knew there was no resistance in him to her. She had become a narcotic to him... to be with her was euphoria and to be separated meant that he thought of her constantly. To be without her was it's own kind of agony and to know that she would be calling made him nervous like an addict waiting for his "fix".

As they had done just the day before, he waited for the phone to ring trying to control himself so that he didn't make a fool of himself with his voice quivering if it wasn't her call.

The phone startled him. He reached for it, too eagerly. He felt like a 17 year old with the adrenalin in overdrive... adrenalin or testosterone? He laughed. He should have been beyond this in his life.

"Hello"

Her voice sparkled as she talked about the sunshine and what a glorious day it was. It was cloudy outside, but sunshine poured in over two copper wires into his ears and flooded through his brain.

Hearing his voice catch, he said, "I've thought about you all day yesterday and how special yesterday was." His mind grasping the emotional landscape of the morning before with it's intimacy.

Somehow, now, he knew she had talked but he couldn't separate her words from the pounding in his ears at that moment. She talked of her excitement and he had drank in the words as a thirsty man would have water.

Somewhere he heard her ask if he was excited this morning and he heard someone with a very sexually horse voice answer with a groaning "yes."

He realized that he was erect before his brain even registered it. He was panting with excitement and could hardly ask if she was also.

Somehow the words got lost in the flood of feelings as her voice became softer, and hoarser and he knew she was being affected with the same flood of sexual feelings as he was. He knew from her voice she was breathing shallow and that a warmth was flowing downward through her and was opening her and flooding her.

She had shared her feelings before and he knew that there was a fire kindling between her legs in the deep recesses of her womanhood. She talked of her longing to be filled and his hardness.

In his mind's eye he could see her sitting at her desk with one leg tucked up under her. Quite natural to the eye, but he knew that she was sitting so that her heal was in contact with the cleft of her feminine form and that she was pleasuring herself just as his hand was giving the same kind of pleasure to his hardness.

In the moment they shared their sexual feelings and although they were separated by a thousand miles they were as intimate as any two lovers had ever been. Their voices becoming so soft that they would have been lost in the darkness of a bed on a shared pillow. Somewhere in her he heard the ragged breathy moaning of her excitement and he was awed. He knew that she was quivering, her face flushed and her body stiff with the posture that was focusing all of her attention at the juncture of her legs and the opening of her inner being. She was a woman caught in the fires of passion and he would have given anything to have seen her face and watched her eyes as they smoldered and glazed... half shutting with the heaviness of her blood flowing downward from her brain towards the juncture of her hips. Knowing that the focus of her being was becoming lost in her loins.

Her moan was a mixture of longing and anger... a hungry sound. A demand for more and a release from the tension that was building in her. He knew that like the spasm of her lower belly, there was no pretense in the sexual expression of her breath and voice and he felt reverenced at though he were standing at the alter of a sacred shrine. He was hearing what a man hears when a woman has passed beyond just the pleasure of his touch and has moved to the point that she is absorbed in the most primal feelings of sexual hunger. He has become the fuel, but she is the fire and he listened as he heard it consume her.

Her passion was contagious and his erection in his hand swelled as his own blood flowed to that point of intimate contact between them. In his mind's eye he could see the smooth softness of her lower belly split into the cleft of her womanhood. The widening chasm of her sex bridged by the protruding mountain of her excitement and the bottomless void of her entrance being strained by what felt like a monestrous erection. With each movement, he saw himself lost into her as she easily accommodated his size and with each withdrawal, he saw the flesh of her inner sleeve withdraw with him as though she wished to cling to him as long as possible.

And with her, his breathe ejaculated from his throat as he knew that she was clenching herself from the same spasm of climax. His white fluid exploded like a volcano with an eruption that burst forth and then began to run down like white lava. Again and again, it pulsed forth and ran down until his hand was covered in it.

He couldn't focus his thoughts in coherent sense. He was in a fog in which he most wanted to just hold her and be contented by her warmth and touch.

He wasn't sure just when the hung up... he knew that they were still connected. He wanted her to think of him each moment as she shifted in her chair at work and felt her heaviness even as he thought of her.

He knew he has no resistance to her... and he wanted none.

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bygr8_4play© 0 comments/ 25015 views/ 0 favorites

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