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Halloween Lover

Why am I hiding in the bathroom on Halloween night? Drunk on Kyrgyz vodka and cognac and dirty sexting and creating hot audio porn with Him. My favorite lover. My Halloween lover. This year.

Because my Halloween lover has all the control. If he has the time and inclination I have the motivation. And this time my Halloween lover has disappeared for too long after our last dirty texting session. Our last dirty texting session that I still pour over. Memorizing every word of every hot sext. Connecting them with my fingers as they circle my clit. Our last dirty sexting session:

“I really like money.” I say, in the midst of an argument designed to rile us both. We do talk about things other than sex. Copiously. We play with geopolitics and humanity and words and art and narratives. 

But I continue.

“Because it is neutral. Better to trade pieces of paper or numbers, than my body.”

“I want to give you head.” 

Warmth creeps from my cunt outwards through my body reading this line. I haven’t heard anything explicitly sexual from him since we fucked. And all I want is to have him again. And again. And again.

“I want to give u head back. Slowly. With tons of time to spend. I want you to warm me up for hours until I’m ready to get rough with you, and see how broad the dynamic range can be between us.” I say, biting my lip. It’s a dare. Are we going back there?

“Warming you up slowly for hours…” he repeats. It’s enough. I know the blood is rushing to his cock.

“Next time you know you want this, choose this, and can have space for this in reality, let me know. With notice. I will come to you.” I declare.

“So that made me hard. I remember your shape, smell, how i want massage and oil you. How i want to gently be there at the mouth of your pussy but not inside. How i want my tongue inside, my finger inside, but how i want your eye contact. How i want to hold your short haired head. How I want to see your stomach twitch…. I really liked our eye contact.

“Every note so perfect that I’m sure you’ve read my diary (I don’t have a diary). I want all that and to hear your mind in your voice. I remember those rhythms inside you, and the energy, so deep and clear and melodic. To ride you in every way. And yes, eye contact. Presence. I was surprised more by my own than yours…. You have a beautiful cock. I want to discover it.” I yearn for it. I let him see my desire.

“You shall. You shall ride it. Hold it. Squeeze it. Find my way of coming then hardening again. Same as I learn you. I shall learn you and trust you. Next time we take time. I can last until you drain me. I want to see you come. You quiver. You trust me. I want u on top of me riding me now. That is why i have my cock in my hand.” He writes. His hottest sexts make me shake.

And now, in this moment, on a different holiday, during a different year, I am bereft. Will I ever hear from him again?

But back to then, in Azerbaijan. And a pause of a few hours goes by before

“Boo!” he says to me, as I’m in the art museum in Baku.

“You.” I say back, knowing I’ll now never know enough about Azeri art. I’ll disappear into him.

My cock is in my hand. Again at thought of you.”

“Mmmm I would love to watch you pleasure yourself.” I say, skimming famous Azeri artists.

“I am left handed.” he says.

“I am left-handed when I play with my clit as well (usually. At least for the first orgasm.)” I blush.

“If u were riding me now would u rub ur clit or find just the position u wanted my cock to be in?” he asks.

“I’d probably only be riding you if I’d had a little to drink and at least 5 orgasms before saddling up. I’m angled such that being on top ain’t my fave, wouldn’t be about physical pleasure, more about exploring dynamics of exchange. But who knows. New patterns await around every corner.” I get distracted from our online sexts, meander in conversation, pause in front of Niyaz Najafov whose art is impossible to ignore.

“I just wanted to admire your breasts.” he often finds a way to subtly take me down a bit while holding me up. 

“I’d be kissing you. Face to face. Looking at you. I love to see your pleasure. You wear it well.” I’m back on track.

“I love ur eye contact”. He’s back on me.

And then – at the same time – we type:

Him:

“Which is why i want to push you against a wall and fuck you from behind. Just to see you look over your shoulder.”

Me:

“The only reason I’d break eye contact is to get it from behind while you push me against a wall, but even then I’d look over my shoulder.”

But that was our last dirty texting session. Spread across some hours while I roamed Baku. 

As so many of our dirty sexting sessions are. Scattered across time and space. Scattered across former SSRs.

And so many times (like right the fuck now on Thanksgiving Day after not hearing from him for over three months) I have been paranoid I’ll never hear from him again

Perhaps I won’t. 

And now it is more than a month later than I was in the Modern Art Museum in Baku.

It is Halloween.

I am locked in a bathroom in an Airbnb in Bishkek desperate for his cock and his touch and his mind and whining to him while I record that and myself coming.

And he listens to my hot sexts, my Halloween lover. And he reads the aching sexts I have sent him that no longer matter and he responds, in word and in voice, all too late for me to respond to until some time he won’t see it for months.

My Halloween lover is mildly drunk during the voice portions. I wish I weren’t part of the same naughty as alcohol. But it’s hot to hear what comes out of him when his filters are slurred.

And I am drunk too as I said, running my way through all the local cognacs and vodkas of the former SSRs.

And we are both ignoring our spouses. Me and my Halloween lover. Me in Bishkek where the art isn’t nearly as good as Baku or most other places.

“Happy Halloween, O Favorite One.” I write as a farewell. My Halloween lover writes me hot sexts long after I’ve gone to bed:

“& i read it now. & i saved reading it. For i knew it would be worth saving for those apertures & appoggiaturas of wet slow fast hard soft blaablaa. I am just one more cock. Just one more that wants to be. Your thighs. Closed about your hand before you open them. It is halloween. I want to play with you, paint you, stroke u with paint brush, tie you in play as u tie my cock, paint you, stroke u, lick u, ask u you to wait because we need time to come so much. If we show each other how.

And ah! I slipped inside you asking to be noticed. And felt.

U just tied soft silk rope around my ankles from a long clumsy rope. And i just did same to you. And now we kiss. I hold that short haired head a moment fingers at your nape and taken away shyly. Your kiss draws me back.

Later our bodies arch. Someday to spend together. I painted you.  And i look into your eyes, after stroking your short hair & we tied….

Shona Samhain duitsa. Is the irish language for happy halloween. Originally a celtic festival. Thank u for painting me too. U did know u painted me too. Halloween lover.

I shall have days. To talk and write and walk. i am going to have days when i good to visit for i am alone. U want to be alone. U chose & choose ur travels, no? I am a cock & man & voice along the way.

I have to leave thoughts for you to collect. The eroticism of painting bodies. Colours. Then the choice of leaving that paint and adornment or washing it off….U the festival chick…..so gold and patterns. Chakras and foreplay extended by the brushes and then sponges that clean the paint we do not need. And if i paint u, u must look at your body in the looking glass and if u paint me i must see how and what……. chakras and play. Slowly we bring each other through our words….. until we present and gift each other bodies…..

So i want you to come before i dress u. I need to see you come. To know your movements.

You make me come, or simply watch me come at your sight and words before we copulate. So u see how quickly i resume for you draped in velvet and silk and those two slack knots on our ankles suggesting more. And i want you to lie wet in velvet and silk and ask me, tell me, to enter you. & i see your body receptive and feel the clench of your kagel muscles. And your hands guide my rhythm and my fingers explore the anchors of your movement to hold your wet hot self to mine and i become nothing but a hard named cock for a while and then i speak. And you are mine a while.

And i am yours a while. Your toy. For whatever names you give me and no matter i do not have enough hands or tongue. But i stood before you when you painted me.

And Your cannabis oil. And time. Music words sex.

And the pleasure of my fingers on your top back, spine and small of back from one hand as the fingers of other have your calf and feet and my tongue is between your legs and that forgotten about slack loose knot moves from ankle to knee. Still slack. That point behind your knees and my tongue lost between your legs. And so sensual we move on to wherever your words bring me or to that question unyet resolved, do you fuck hard if you want?

And oh my cock in your hands your mouth. Your hair. Your kisses and saliva. Your knowledge. Your journey and saved moments to have my cock again. You tie my base and balls and edge me slowly to a dizzying need to ejaculate to shake to lose control and edge, to oil you. Explore every sinew and curve of your back. To see your glistening wet pussy and tight cunt invite me in again as i try move you to legs spread, mound against corner of bed or sofa and i close your eyes a moment and can u feel me enter you? I want you to straddle me and close my eyes too, so i gasp the moment i feel you.

Am i doing ok? Is this what i am supposed to write? Is that what i am to do? I know u make me come and explode. We could be as vanilla as vanilla can be, and i shall still come and come. Just want time. To hear your sex thoughts. For you to hear mine….

…So we escape.”

And so we do.

And so we will again.

And so it is.


Want more? 

This post is #1 of a series documenting hot dirty sexting with my favorite lover, including that one time we went at it relentlessly 16 hours a day for 3 weeks straight.

Here’s the next in the sexting series: Your Cock

How we met: The European Lovers: Hookup

The first time: The European Lovers: Barcelona

The Cyberfucks:

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!

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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