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Cyberfuck Duet

“How is ur day? U want to cyberfuck me or pretend to cyberfuck me in a while? Or are you very busy?” he asks. He wants dirty stories about sex.

I falter. I’m used to him popping in and out with no signposting, and it catches me off guard. I’ve grown accustomed to him twinkling into and out of existence in such extreme ways and therefore I’m quite sure he doesn’t exist at all when we aren’t yearning for each other in dirty stories about sex.

“I am not very busy, but the thing is I write dirty stories about sex hours a day now. That said, you’re more fun than a blank page. What’s a while? How’s your day?”

“Less hectic than usual. Feel like i delegated to a hidden team of people. And so got chance relax a bit. Chasing down a toxic psychic came into it, usual reading lengthy docs or not, had few wanks, played piano, solved puzzles, contemplated math & mysteries. Met with friends. And now i am home alone. Waiting on your words your stimulus.” My dirty stories about sex.

“I feel like I should be playing hard to get.”

“U always are if only u knew.”

“That made me smile.” I smile.

“Coz it is true you know.”

“In some ways, yes. I knew that writing so many dirty stories about sex would hamper my inspiration here. How about you tell me what you want. You started it. Because I am ever turned on by your voice and your mind and your intensity. And it doesn’t much matter what filter that comes through. Because it’s actually your personal narrative and vibration that gets me wet. So I don’t have anything to ask for. I just sit around waiting until you’re inspired to cyberfuck me. Like a pet.”

“So i sit naked on a sofa alone surrounded by unfinished work. You have many pets Zoe. More i imagine than i do now. Mystery of women and men. I feel so passed it and unattractive now. Who is whose pet? Are you alone? Like me for a while?” he asks.

And with this, another brick crumbles from the wall between us. My heart rustily budges. I tell the truth.

“I would love to be in the room where you’re sitting. I’m in a room, on a sofa, surrounded by bookcases. Primarily yoga, Steiner, some occult. In this room. I don’t know about pets, or whose is whose. Probably we switch. I’m afraid I like you too much sometimes and that you’ll shorten that while as men do in the face of my admiration, and then you ask me to like you. I don’t know. You are my favorite pet. Can I sit on your lap?”

“Sit on my lap.” he commands.

“You’re naked but I’m not.” I point out. I want this cyberfuck so badly.

“I know.”

“I’m wearing shorts with stars on them and a t-shirt from Albania.” I admit.

“Never knew u went to albania. Know so little about you.” he admits.

“Anything you want to know I will tell you. I loved Tirana. I want to wrap my arms around your neck, to breathe you in, hear your voice in my ear. Feel your bones and flesh underneath my thighs. Always curious, can I feel your cock?”

“You are on my lap so you do i hope kiss me. At least to begin. I am naked. You already saw my cock. Sat on my lap. Saw it twitch and harden. The sudden need in my boyish eye then the experience of a man who waits. Because now you move on my cock or is that my imagination at play? Your tits move and sway under that t shirt. Who would have thought a t shirt could represent liberty. You tell me to shut up & stop my usual philosopher crap.”

“Do I? Oh but the best kind of liberty. Transfer of capital. Making up for missing out on Miami in the 1980’s. Only without the violence. Anyway if I kiss you we both stop talking. And I see stars not just on my shorts. Kissing you lets that current through… Moving energy on your lap. You feel it even though I’m not physically moving. Because you’re more than a boy or a man. 

I love feeling your cock move underneath me. But I’m getting dizzy from your kisses. Hard to sit straight.” I’m immersed in dirty stories about sex.

“So stand.” he allows.


“I stroke your hair and head. Stop kissing your mouth. Pull that t shirt down to kiss your shoulders.”

“Circle my hands around your back, stroking figure eights on you. Wiggle my toes against yours, little intertarsal hellos”

“Then roughly grab your cunt a moment and squeeze your mound. Then as soon as that rough moment occurred i am kneeling before you.”

“Eyes and nostrils wide. Staring at you.” I say.

“And i smell you.” he says.

“I am so wet.”

“I am so hard.”


“I pretended not to hear that because i want you to say it again.” he says. The words tickle my insides and send juice through all my systems. I start to shake.

“When I really want you, and only you, sometimes I start to shake. And you know that, but haven’t seen the little tremors. Just the big ones that come when I do. I want you. I want you deep, raw, and now. Needy. And shaking. Just a little.”

“My cock is hard. Fuck it.”

“Back on the couch. Naked. Straddle you. Mount you in a squat so that I can feel that circuit when it’s just pussy and mouth. Sit on your cock, need it all the way in at once please yes you are so hard.” 

And with this, he switches to audio. It terrifies and excites me. The veil drops.

“You write so many words… and wow… all i said was ‘So hard.’” his voice drips into me and fills spaces nothing else can reach. I shudder. He’s enunciated, but slurred. It’s unique, and, like everything else about him, I don’t trust it. How could someone be so utterly compelling specifically to me? 

His existence is proof of G-d.

I screw up the courage to use my own voice to tell dirty stories about sex. Listening to it now is excruciating.

“That’s all you need to say.” I answer.

“Finally, i learned how to enter you in just one…” he pauses for a breath “…deep stroke. Oh so hard so wet so tight.”

“And what will you do now that you’re inside me? Your voice has me dripping on your thighs. I sprung a sweat.” I write. I am pausing my vocal dirty stories about sex to gain courage. “I’m just entranced. Your cock has me knowing I’ve done well. And everything is right.” I continue, by voice.

“I like how you sweat, sweating so good. The way it rolls down your face to your nose and drips. The way your thighs… wow… oh… and yet i want this to wait. I need this to wait.” he says, his voice gravely and mouth thick and full of raw desire.

‘Is it better if I stay still? Or is it better if I’m fast.” I ask, innocently. My voice also has a fry. Dirty voices.

“I so like the mixture of you looking me in the eye and kissing me and ahhh, being there, and yet at the same time just fucking me like a toy, until you come and shake and quiver. And i am just a toy. Just a pet. And I wait for my turn.

You don’t stay still. You may hold your body still, but you don’t stay still. Your muscles squeeze around me… this pelvic floor and…” he gasps and whispers “no, you don’t stay still. And you look at me and say ‘Ohhh I can move so fast I can move so fast.’ and I know you can. But you like me want this to last so you’re saving that movement for later” he speaks, breathlessly. 

“I want eternity in each moment. Want it more than anything. I want to look into the infinite in your eyes and hold you inside of me and play with my clit until I come around you three times. Or thrice.” I type. My voice escapes me. I find it difficult to use for dirty stories about sex.

“U squeeze so wet & so hot. And i want to see you come. I want to see you play with your clit. Your quivers. Your shakes your need & satisfaction.” he types now. I regret making it be that way. I want to hear him tell me dirty stories about sex.

But I’m too scared. And so I type.

“Each time a struggle to keep you inside me as I bear down into explosive orgasms. The third time working for it so hard. Hand at the back of your neck, in your hair. Pulling your face to my ears to hear your noises because they push me over the edge (in real life too). 

Hands on your face. Celebrating it. Learning it. Kissing you. I’m not hot for you. You MAKE me hot. Awkward. Used to being so fickle and detached.

Never been so addicted to a cock. And a face. And a story. A voice.

And a mouth. And to feel that dance in you. The waves. To feel it all the way through you into your cock inside my pussy deep inside. Lucky girl. I’m resting.” And I am, this cyberfuck has already made me come more times than I can count.

“U had your toy. I like how u rest. Stroke and lick your back stomach breasts and thighs. I rest. I want to hear your voice.” he asks. It fills me with lust and terror.

“I’m just lost in your voice, and at the same time… hot damn. That cock works way too well. Can I have more?” 

Empty it all. Empty it all. Oh just rest a while. And now? Now. Oh you’re my toy. Are you ready to be my toy?” he says, firm, masculine, playful.

“Yes.” I giggle. “I think I like this part better than the orgasms. Toys bring fun, laughter and joy. That’s my toy creed.” I smile through my words.

“What kind of toy do you want to be?” he asks. “This is a lot of fun. I have so many fantasies going around. So many ways to make you a toy. But ohhhh you’ve come so much and i so achingly need to. But, i asked you to empty me, which means i have to come more than once which means you must rest between because i can’t just come and come… or maybe i can… i don’t now where to begin. Where do i begin?” he asks.

His range across the spectrum from dominance to submission in playful volleys with me blows my fucking mind.

And here, his reflection of my submissive energy is on the nose and again I wonder if he knows, if it’s on purpose. If he’s in control. Or are we puppets? What caused this? Who designed this perfect cyberfuck? I’m humbled back into typing dirty stories about sex.

“I am not a SmartToy. I don’t know. I’m just well-built. Smiling. I want to know what each and every one of those fantasies rolling around in you are. You’ve given me multiple choice before… Do you want me to play with your cock. I love playing with your cock.” I muster it up and switch to voice.

“But I don’t know how.” I say. “I’m pathologically incapable of learning how to give hand jobs. I have to be taught every time. Every toy has its features.” My voice messages tend to have punchlines. I type again. “But I love to learn. Do you want to teach me?”

“So as i watched you play with your clit. Til you were oozing so wet… wow. You watch me. And i show you how. And then I think you’ll learn. At some point i say to you ‘Oh, can you do this for me instead?’ And i say stuff like ‘Oh, you squeeze your fingers harder, you put them softly, you put them there. U pull, u push. Ah.’ And i look straight into your eye, and i gasp. And i say to u again ‘You can empty me, because I’ll be ready for you again, once you have rested.’ And oh… you’re such a quick learner.”

“Sigh. I love to watch. But you asked so nicely.” I say, sighing again.

“You taught me how to fuck you. How to deal with that tight wet cunt of yours. How to just put the tip of the cock in the beginning, and then in the end, you wanted me right inside you. You showed me how u came, with your own fingers. Oh wow. And now, now I’m astride you. With my cock between your breasts. And you don’t really know how to react.” he says. 

“I don’t and I’m shy… but… I do know that it’ll feel good if I push my breasts together around you.” I switch from voice to text again “Your trust is so healing” I say. 

“Blessed be. Amen. Shalom. Trust should be so.” he says.

“And what about that warm cock on my chest. Can it fuck the shame right out of me? I can feel your pulse in my breasts, on my sternum. I love feeling what is inside you. Heartbeat. Guts moving. Veins pumping. It all reminds me of when you come.”

“U haven’t made me come yet. U have edged me through 3 of your orgasms. You have watched. U have learnt.” and now he switches from typing back to voice. “So how do i like my cock to be sucked?” he asks.

“Well I know I have to kiss it first.” I say, teasingly. And then I am back to text. Because I want to write him the best cyberfuck blowjob he’s ever had. The best dirty stories about sex.

“Kisses turning into gentle swirls. Licking tongue. Phat tongue. Little tiny bump in the center of my tongue against you, just under the ridge, stroking down and up and why that bump you think and then get to learn about me that I had a barbell through it for ten years of my life and what kind of girl gets her tongue pierced if she doesn’t looooove to suck cock?

And what kind of girl doesn’t take it out once she realizes it gets in the way.

Just a little thick spot left, no longer noticeable now that you are wet and slick and I don’t know exactly what you like but I know I love to run my lips around you. Hands around you. Find tempos that make you purr. And I love to suck you deep into the back of my throat and just hold you there. And look at you, in the eyes, with a mouth full of your cock.” I type.

“Tempos that make me purr.” he repeats. By voice. “Wow. Looking at me in my eyes. Oh wow. Have you rested enough now?” he says with a challenge and a coolness in his voice.

“Yes. Feelin’ spritely” I type. 

“So ask me or tell me to fuck you again.” he says, impatiently. He loves it when I ask him to fuck me.

“Will you please fuck me again?” I beg.

“Yeah, I really do need to this time.”

“When you say that the walls of my cunt clench and I can’t say anything anymore.” I say, and switch again to typing. “If you’re going to fuck me hard, and long… From behind is best. But I have a few angles. But I love to look over my shoulder at you.”

“U like that look of lust and concentration which turns to abandonment?” he types. I am floored. The cyberfuck takes over. That’s exactly what I like. I lose all inhibition and my voice builds.

“It’s my favorite. If life could just be made up of that look and that transition on repeat… that would be fine for me. That’s the transition, the build, the moments, the spectrum. That look on you is what makes me come at least once a week. I may not remember anything, but I’ll remember that for the rest of my life. It’s my reason for living. It is my reason for fucking. It’s my reason for traveling. Just searching for those moments over, and over… and some of them are just… I have no willpower. I’ll do all sorts of dumb things for you. It’s that magic trio. Like. Love. And want…. Now… are you going to come for me?” I ask. 

“When you tell me to.” he says coolly. I can tell he is smoking a cigarette.

“Put me where you want me. Don’t hold back. And come.” I say. And then it’s back to typing because I can’t top that. “Look into my eyes. So wet. You’ve fucked me so much today she’s pillowy. Where do you want to come? I go from begging you not to to begging you to. Someday I’ll stop being too shy to whisper in your ear every detail of how you feel inside me. But you know me. One icy cold mm at a time into the vast ocean that is you. Standing ankle deep. Feeling that tsunami coming. Mirror every move you make. Receive you.” 

“Every tsunami has a reason. You took me. I sweat shake lose breath feel alive. I gasp for air.” he writes.

“I’ve ridden many a quake in my life. Came adult in the ring of fire. Shaken awake, shaken mid-bite. But never whilst fucking. I kiss you and inhale you. Bottling the moments. Grateful for life. And in real life: you come at the howling hour. All of Boulder cheers for you. My muse. Do you know you are? Do you like it?” I need his validation for my dirty stories about sex.

“Feel rush of hormones through my brain and body, my mind is like everyone’s mind at orgasm. I feel free a moment. Then i remember that was my first. I need more. Embrace and cuddle you. We both feel validated. Helped each other come. We kiss. I have more I’m aching to give you. If i am your muse then beware the galatean praxis. I shall not likely ever see boulder. Nor shall you likely see the splendid rooms filled with oil paintings of Victorian men where i was made. But hold me. No shame.”

“Holding you. And now thinking of the splendid rooms full of oil paintings of Victorian men I have seen, and how they all had red ropes in front of them. And maybe you would like Boulder. It is calm and peaceful. It is not a place to complain about. But for my temperament it is suffocating. I crave bustle.” I acknowledge, distracting us for a moment from the cyberfuck at hand.

“But I don’t care where we are. Just close enough to hold you is enough specificity for the moment.”

“I would like to show you the only true likeness portrait of Elizabeth the first just so you could giggle at precious history and vampiric folly. I would like to give you the access codes to the pyongyang moscow interface, i would like to answer your curiosities. But instead i am now lacing you into a corset. In front of a mirror. Each time I draw a lace tighter I kiss you long and deep. And you begin again to touch your lips and clit and we have oil so slippy.” he types.

“You want to go again? Addict you?” he asks.

“Would i ever turn you down after you already half laced me in. Oh these things it’s been what 15 years? So hard to breathe. You know I want you to use me and cherish me at the same time. And you know what you’re doing…” 

I don’t know it at the time. At the time I expect he will disappear at any moment for months or ever. This time, though, I am wrong. This is the beginning of our three week binge of an almost non-stop cyberfuck.

To be continued…

Want more dirty stories about sex? 

This post is #7 of a series documenting virtual dirty stories about sex with my favorite lover, and the first of that one time we went at it relentlessly 16 hours a day for 3 weeks straight.

Dirty Stories About Sex:

1: Halloween Lover

2: Your Cock

3: Dirty Sex Chat

4: Your Cunt

5: Shower Sex

6: 4th of July Orgasms

7: Cyberfuck Duet

8: Empty Me

9: Fuck

10: Hard

11: And then we talk of the pandemic

12: 20% Battery

13: Online Flirt

14: Hot Messaging

15: Side of Shibari

16: Three Day Blowjob

17: Naked in the Dark

18: Is Cybersex Cheating?

19: Want You (Sexy Messages)

20: Hot Sexy Stories

21: Erotic Stories

22: Orgasms Litter My Day: Free Sexy Reads

But wait, there’s more!

How we met: The European Lovers: Hookup

The first time: The European Lovers: Barcelona

Favorite Lover as Muse:

1: Whoring for Lifetimes

2: Cheater

3: Stop. Falling. In. Love. With. Monogamous Men.

4: Speaking of the Future


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