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Side of Shibari

“I ate chicken. And avocado.” he opens. I don’t yet know that it comes with a side of shibari.

“So do you spend time in ketosis or are you off eating donuts when you aren’t talking about chicken and avocado and steak and fish and blood sausage and garlic? I sometimes do bouts of keto livin’. I only ask because I am trying to conjure your smell while I think about deeply inhaling it while I move my hands gently to the small of your back and touch your chest ever so softly with my breasts…

The way your smell changes from your chest to your beck to just under your ear to you shoulder to under your arm… mmm but my mind drifts… I can’t help it… I replayed last night and I can’t count how many times I came today. My clit pulses so hard at your voice. Distracted by the thought of leaning over you, breasts hanging like soft too-ripe fruit. 

I want to fuck you 1000 ways. Like every kind of stranger. All the friends with all the benefits. Like we’ve known each other all the lifetimes in all the ways. With all the words. With none.”

“I spend time in ketosis and intermittent fasting and holistic selective nutrition yes. I eat well but sparse.” he responds.

“dude. i poured my soul into that hook up there. I mean, I’m glad you’re nutritionally intentional and that you’re answering my questions, but still…”

“Write the name of your forgotten lovers on my body. I write the names of my forgotten on yours. Letters. A through Z.”

“Oooo the ones I hate, the ones I still love. Danger.”

“No the ones u left behind. Not ones u still love. Nor those u hate.” he specifies.

But I left them all behind” I mourn.

“No matter I left mine behind” he mourns.

“I want to write on you. With fingers. With pen.” I say.

“Yes.” he agrees.

“Little missives. Secrets. No lies. Draw names and stories and the shape of things on the shape of you.”

“So u shall. Then play further.” he allows.

“When you allow me in the way you do I get choked up and wet at the same time. I’m choked up and wet at the same time. How are you?” I ask.

“With friends. Can’t be visibly hard or gasping. But u wrote those letters. Just as i wrote symbols on u.” 

“If I can’t make you visibly hard….. Then what’s the point? I could draw letters on your soft cock. But I know myself. And you.” I smile.

“I am twitching. Legs crossed. Trying to be discreet.”

“If I were in the room and you were texting me, I would know in an instant without even looking at you. I’d see your pulse quicken. I know what happens to me when I think about kissing you slowly on a hot summer night.” I tease.

“You could draw letters everywhere except my cock.” he says.

“I guess that’s the luck of being female. But still. You could tell. I can’t hide it. Heart leaps. Cheeks pink. Eyes gleam. Even my voice sounds different. And my letters would cross your cock. They would have to there’s no space. I want that kind of lover. The one I have trouble being with in public because we cannot stop fucking each other. What I love about you is that I don’t expect you to ever respond. Yet somehow when you do there’s service in it. So fucking hot. You’re with your friends. I don’t care if you prioritize them or not. I’m not assuming or projecting the right thing to do on you. If I wouldn’t be trying so hard to get you inside me all the time…. I like you wild. I like kissing you while writing on your back.”

U are so hot. At base of my stomach please write something thoughtful.”

“The Lakota only stewarded the Black Hills for just under 100 years before the treaty with the US that governed their use. They stole them from the Cheyenne and fought with the settlers brutally against the other tribes in the region. The war between the US and Lakota, the one in the late 1800’s, was longer than between the US and Vietnam. I wish South Dakota would stop being in the news cycle because my heart broke there thrice, 7 years ago. Then I write the name of that forgotten lover… and then I draw the mountains.

And then I write down your cock in Lakota ‘Cantecikiya’, which roughly means ‘my heart is inspired by you.’

Then again, you speak everything, perhaps I shouldn’t be assuming  you don’t speak Sioux/Lakota…” I trail off and send him a photo of me in the Black Hills.

“I write 4 letters in akhadian just above your mound.” he flirts.

“Gratefully not in the news cycle. I want to make you blurry.” I say.

“I blindfold you.” he says.

“Do it well, I cheat.” I warn.

“Of course.”

“I’m seeking you out with my hands. Trying to kiss you. Needy. Maybe also a little performatively needy. Maybe to see how you’ll react.”

“Sweetie. Ur letters my letters names upon names upon name. Ofc you see. I couldn’t leave blindfold on you.”

“Hugging you.”

“With 5 metres of silk rope i could bind you shibari. Or you just want to be hugged?” he offers.

“Both and.”

“Both and – they are so similar. The beauty of shibari is its aesthetic and freedom.” he explains.

I have never been tied shibari. I like it when you pay attention to me. And look at me. What does my body inspire in you?” I ask.

“U are now tied loosely and it is your pleasure to learn how each knot tightens each part of your body. I paint an arrow and symbol from my solar plexus to cock standing in front of you. I enjoy this game.”

“So I am looking at you. Shibari-tied. But I’m  also thinking about you in real time. With your friends. Doing who knows what all night long. Thrice-timing. Because I would be. Mind racing, pussy dripping. The heights of the heights and the depths of the depths. And that strong bridge, beating in between the ropes.”

“I am home alone. And u have found the point in your rope dress which is shibari which tightens your breasts. Which pressures your labia which adjusts your posture. I want to show you how to ligature a cock. But that is greedy. I want too much for you to play this game. So much patience.”

“I love it when you’re greedy.” I say, with excitement.

“You drip when you are greedy.” he says.

“I drip when I smell your narrative. And that makes me greedy.”

Glistening wet. All colours of your flesh. Oh should I tell you to untie yourself and we fuck vanilla or do u want see how to tie me? Questions. Questions. Your labia parted and my tongue touches your clit few seconds. Then I read the names on your body.”

“Both. And.” I reply.

“Patience. Yours rather than mine.” he cautions.

“I am middle spectrum. I don’t have patience and I don’t like surprises (because they rob me of anticipation, which I love, and that is what I am doing now. Anticipating.) while feigning patience. In order to get what I want.”

Then ask. Demand. Vocalize need. Be honest. Say it as loudly as you can.” he says. I wonder if he sees this in me specifically, or if this is for All Women.

“I want to feel your breath on my neck. Want to learn you and forget you and learn you again. I want to play enough that I don’t fear you. I want to play even though I fear you. Want to be tied to you. Want to say no to you. 

I want you to fuck me with all the tenderness in you, and then I want you to fuck me with everything else. 

Just, I just want it all.” I say, exhaling.

“I like pulling those knots around your breasts and midriff.” he says.

“I like you pulling on me.”

“Kissing you sweetly.”

“I like you moving me. I don’t know what I like until you do it. Love that about you.” I admit.

“I like how those two ropes separate your glistening wet pussy. Like seeing you open.” he says.

“I like you watching me. I know I have a beautiful pussy. She’s one of my best features.” I brag.

“She is.” he agrees.

“Lucky me got no shame there. Just how will I stay wet so open?” I ask.

“But so too your face your eyes your voice. My tongue my fingers so lightly and softly explore her. I am oiling you. You are we slippy massaged. And yes. You are open.” he describes.

“Then I’m grabbing for you. Greedy, impatient. Honest. Contact. Connection.”

“Sweet penetration.”

“Lightning rod.”

“I pull out. Just to see the expression on your face. Then slide back in. And i am by your side. Slippy oiled wet hard reading aloud the names you chose write. Psychosexuality. Is there anything better? U read every name I wrote on myself and tell me to fuck them knowing you have my cock inside you.”

That’s hot.” I allow.

“So u are you Zoe and more.”

“But then I want to know about them. I am greedy. How many names did you write?” I ask.

“I fucked them they fucked me. We wrote no painful or complicated names on each other’s bodies.”

I cheated. The only names I want to be fucked by are painful and complicated.”

“Pity.”

“I didn’t choose it.”

“U fuck for catharsis.”

“No. I fuck for love. Psychosexuality… is there anything better?” Echoing him.

“I fuck because fucking you feels good. I fuck you because wanting to fuck you feels better than almost anything. Wanting you makes me glow all the time. Wanting you makes me wet and focused and full of life. I love wanting you. And it doesn’t go away when I fuck you. It just gets worse. And you’re not scared. You like it. I can tell.” I challenge.

“Why would I be scared?” He rises to it.

“I have no idea.”

“Are u scared?” he asks.

“Courage is acting in the face of fear. Yes. I am.” I say.

“Beautifully put. We all are.” 

“It scares me most not to learn to express through fear, to you. I am caught in it often. And I want the hotness on the other side. That is there, with you. Because that’s life. It is all certain heartbreak. And having the ultimate experience along the way. I seek higher and deeper experience. And deeper kisses. Dizzying kisses. And your cock. Deeply. Tightly held.” I say.

Does the writer of erotic fiction get so sentimental over sex? You just want to be fucked and you just want to fuck me. And our friendship is established now.” he says, and in this, I hear his fear. He knows I am in love with him. Doesn’t he? He must.

“Oh you are funny if you think a damn thing I write is fiction.” I say. Nobody’s business whether tis or tisn’t.

“So you oiled untied free of ropes which gently bound you feel oddly sensitized across all chakras except top 2. I call you an ethical slut.” he says.

“Frown.”

“I call you by your name.”

“Which one? I’m giving you that testy look where I’m thinking about pretending to push you away but can’t.”

“I stand up and move away.”

“I pout.”

“Stupid man with hard on looking ridiculous playing games.”

“Brilliant man smarter than I am looking rideable.” I correct.

“Thank you. Fuck me please.”

“I’d love to fuck you how do you want me to fuck you?”

“All of u.”

“All of me wants you to make love to me with bouts of punishing me for it. Wants to feel all of you lose control. All of me wants to lose control to you. Lick me. Refuse me your cock. Make me be patient and greedy and annoyed. I’ll be fine at first but after you make me come a few times I will not. I will start hinting. Then begging. Then mewling. Licking without cock is like a cheese plate without scotch.” I compare.

“Lick u. Take your labia in my lips. My tongue touches the opening of your cunt.”

“Sensitive. You’ve been fucking me every other day for a week.

“Licks through every crevice of your legs and ass. U are used to me now? Am i boring? Or have I begin to learn U?” he asks.

“Is that what you think? Sometimes I fear you’ll think the same of me.  Those thoughts from you make me smile. Some sweet part of you that feels not enough. So, so far from the truth of me thrusting in your face.”

“Come. Paint my face in your smell and sex. Come.” he demands.

“Once you’ve started the flywheel you can make me come so quick again and again. Because you are learning me. In a strange, masked way. Why would that make me desire you less? You know my spots, my buttons. Feeling your rhythm in my clit is all it takes. You make me come. I came listening to you come so many times I can’t count them.”

And then, gasping, breathing hard, finally – I switch to voice. 

“You want me to come?” Panting.

“I want you to come. I want you to come, I want you to come, I want you to shake. Want your stomach to tighten so taught, I want your back to shake, I want sweat from your brow. I want you to come and yelp and scream and then that moment when your brain fills with hormones… I … am going to fuck you.” he says. By voice.

“Your voice…” I type, thirstily.

“My voice is nothing special. It’s just a voice telling you to come please please please come. That’s why I lick you, that’s why I have my finger inside, exploring inside. It’s why I lick you. Why I’m so hard. It’s why I want to fuck you, it’s why I need you to come. My voice, do you want me to talk to you about it? Just come.

It makes me so hard to know that right now you’re touching yourself those fingers circling your under clit. That makes me so fucking hard. Wow. Because I know that you’re getting off, that you’re bringing yourself to another orgasm. And yup. I listen to the sound of you coming.” he says, cigarette in mouth.

“Yes. I am. It’s hot here. It takes longer to come when it’s hot. Wish you were here. Wish you were fucking me.” I moan and sigh, mouthing words rising pitch.

“I love how you grab the back of my head and my neck as you come. And now you’re on your back all sweaty and exhausted in this hot weather, and I am inside you. I kiss you long and deep. And I am fucking you now. Just where I wanted to be. Just slowly, slowly, but God you’re so wet and so slippy. You’re going to make me come. The way your legs, the way you squeeze, the way your breasts move, the way you look at me, oh wow.” he says, and his voice is filled with wonder. And love.

“Don’t stop.” I say, fingers moving in a frenzy across my wet clit, breath tumbling across the microphone, hot, long, and hard. I come.

“I’m not going to stop. I am fucking you now. As I look into your eyes, I’m, I’m… ooooohhhh, it just feels so good. You’re so wet, you’re so tight. You just feel so fucking good. Fuck. FUCK. Oh my God FUCK. FUCK.” he yells.

Fuck me like I’m your instrument. Feel me out and take me to the limit.” I type.

“Oh that is my intention. I’m just fucking you, that’s all I want to do. I look in your face, you look back and me and I love how you gasp. And I mewl and grunt. And wow how your body moves every time I fucking stroke inside you. How open and wet you are.

I really enjoy fucking you when you want to be fucked. When that’s all you want, just to be fucked. When all you think about is being fucked. And I become your cunt, I become your cock, I become your pussy, I become your dick, I become your sex. It just moves together.” he says.

“There is nothing hotter than what you just said. I want to be fucked so deep by the man who said those words. Snaking spine moving with each stroke more and more like a dance like a game playing with energy like ping pong through my cunt and your lips and your mouth and your cock. Can’t even tell you how good it feels. Each stroke pressing me just slightly differently. A little to the left. A little lower. Little to the right. All the spots that need your cock. That need the pressure.

I need it the way you do it.

Need you, catch you, and your cum when you come, and collapse. I need to succeed. I want to make you feel best ever I want to make you come so hard I get to hold my head high. And so now I am doing more of the fucking. Matching you. Riding you. Moving so you can hear how wet I am every time you thrust into me. Hear the sounds you make sucking out of me. No hot friction too wet too many orgasms pooling around you. Open. Free. Joy.” I type.

“Come for me come for you. On to your stomach clit pressed against corner of bed legs on floor spread arms held by my hands and I fuck coz you say fuck and i say fuck. I want to see your back hips dragging me in. You look over your shoulder or in your mirror.” he types.

“In mirror. I want to see your whole torso as you fuck me. Want to watch your face.” Begging.

“I want to see your face as I fuck you, coz this is how I’m going to come inside you.” he says, his voice determined.

“The muscles in my face flicker every time you push inside me. Not pain. Desire.” I type.

“I realize that you are all that desire and pleasure. This is the point where you just become a fool that I want to fuck. You become a toy. You become the source of all pleasure.” he says.

“That’s all I want to be. Thinking about your hands on my wrists, looking at you in the eyes. In the mirror. I am so wet. Fuck me, use me.” I say, panting, voice faltering with desire, pitch filled with moans.

“I am using you. I am using you. I’m just fucking you.” he says, laughing.

“I want to come with you inside me.” I say, moaning, and do, screaming.

“Oh wow that was so fucking hot. I felt you clench so much. I popped out. Slid out and I had to find your wet cunt again, and go back in so fucking deep, and this time yes, this time yes… oh Christ. Fuck you.” he says, slobbering, panting.

“I want to feel you come so hard it oozes out of me for days. Mark me. I belong to no one. Fuck me like I’m all yours.” I call.

“Oh, oh, ohhhh. Oh what a sweet little tight pussy you have. I begin to feel it come from the bottom of my spine…” and then he drops the phone. I grumble.

“I couldn’t hold phone and cum at same time.” he types, sheepishly.

“Dammit.” I respond. “I know it’s really hard. It fucks up my orgasms.” I laugh. “What a treasure you coming for me. The X on the map. I will find it. It’s started raining here as you started to cum. I hope I made you sleep. I like making you sleep. Accomplishment.”

“Almost asleep yes. Surprisingly so.” he types.

“Kisses.” 

“I’m exhausted. Kisses. Goodnight I am suddenly really sleepy. Petit mort.”

“Dream of me sucking your cock.” I smile.

“That is how u wake me up again. U know me by now. Simple horny man.”

“Oh yes so simple. You sleep you. You get your cock sucked in the morning.” I promise.

And he does…


Want more? 

This post is #15 of a series documenting cybersex with my favorite lover, and #9 of that one time we went at it relentlessly 16 hours a day for 3 weeks straight.

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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