Cursed distance.
Distances have been shortened, the concept of far away, unreachable, lost and forgotten has been eliminated. Everyone connected, informed, communicated. Everything takes a second or less and we all feel closer. Do we all feel closer? Maybe, but in the important moment, when our bodies most crave closeness, we only feel distant, unreachable. And it's our sexes that make us aware of it.
To them the distance hurt, it generated desperation. In their heads they had tried out the other's body many times, they had touched and massaged each other, shared kisses and strong squeezes of buttocks, nipples, and sexual organs. In their heads the distance was zero, in their minds, in their fantasies, they were so close that they were one, two people made one in hard and strong penetration. They had already consummated, she had been penetrated lovingly, he had been loved inside her mouth, both had stimulated each other's genitals with tongue and lips.
The messages on their cellphones were counted by the dozens in just a few minutes, during their long nocturnal chats he had exhausted all the fantasies and morbidities of those he spoke to, they had confessed and stimulated each other, they had opened up about small and large life topics, knew what motivated them, what made them sexual beings needing constant pleasure. She opened up with the confession of always needing a man to tell her what to do and how. He revealed all his cards and didn't blush at defining himself as a man with childlike needs, wanting the affection and pleasure of a good woman all the time. Both knew each other's bodies, fantasies grew, so did desire. They kissed in words, in words his penis rubbed against her innerwear, they wrote in letters how they would touch, thousands of letters to describe how they would reach their first orgasm, the first one, not the best but the one that would set the path.
And they had it, a long orgasm each one, while some hands squeezed a hard penis and fine fingers moved quickly over the lips guarding the maximum object of pleasure. Masturbation was the false shortcut to shorten that distance. It was their deception, there was discharge but not the one they were looking for, not the one they wanted.
In the messages there is word, but no voice, there is no whisper or scream, never a message can carry through the kilometers that separate them the aromas of sex, the smells of bodies. Never will they feel the salty ardor of the other's sweat on their lips, an expression of few repeated letters will never be the same as feeling the other's body twisting due to the collapse generated by delaying the moment of discharge, orgasm, 'cum'.
The skin, that was what hurt them most not knowing due to distance. Feeling the skin, its warmth and humidity, its cold and imperfections, its flavor and temperature, like the skin changed its hardness during penetration, like the skin of the cheeks became elastic during oral sex.
Sensitivity, smells, moans, breathing, touch, the need to feel the other inside one, together, very close, extremely close, united by hips and sex. That was what was lost due to the damn distance.
When is the distance too much? When does it become excessive? It's always so if the desire to be with the other one keeps growing, sexual desires start dominating conversations and don't get fulfilled, the distance gets bigger and meters turn into kilometers and tracts double. The distance may kill orgasm but increases and stimulates desire. Distance is cursed for lovers and fuel for those who fantasize. The biggest enemy of the cursed distance are hot and desiring sexual souls that find each other in words and mutual masturbation and simultaneously in the way to be together. One's hands turn into the other's, as if by magic portals open, and it's her who touches him, and he who stimulates her. Cursed distance, we desirous ones will combat you with masturbation, words, and fantasies.
To them the distance hurt, it generated desperation. In their heads they had tried out the other's body many times, they had touched and massaged each other, shared kisses and strong squeezes of buttocks, nipples, and sexual organs. In their heads the distance was zero, in their minds, in their fantasies, they were so close that they were one, two people made one in hard and strong penetration. They had already consummated, she had been penetrated lovingly, he had been loved inside her mouth, both had stimulated each other's genitals with tongue and lips.
The messages on their cellphones were counted by the dozens in just a few minutes, during their long nocturnal chats he had exhausted all the fantasies and morbidities of those he spoke to, they had confessed and stimulated each other, they had opened up about small and large life topics, knew what motivated them, what made them sexual beings needing constant pleasure. She opened up with the confession of always needing a man to tell her what to do and how. He revealed all his cards and didn't blush at defining himself as a man with childlike needs, wanting the affection and pleasure of a good woman all the time. Both knew each other's bodies, fantasies grew, so did desire. They kissed in words, in words his penis rubbed against her innerwear, they wrote in letters how they would touch, thousands of letters to describe how they would reach their first orgasm, the first one, not the best but the one that would set the path.
And they had it, a long orgasm each one, while some hands squeezed a hard penis and fine fingers moved quickly over the lips guarding the maximum object of pleasure. Masturbation was the false shortcut to shorten that distance. It was their deception, there was discharge but not the one they were looking for, not the one they wanted.
In the messages there is word, but no voice, there is no whisper or scream, never a message can carry through the kilometers that separate them the aromas of sex, the smells of bodies. Never will they feel the salty ardor of the other's sweat on their lips, an expression of few repeated letters will never be the same as feeling the other's body twisting due to the collapse generated by delaying the moment of discharge, orgasm, 'cum'.
The skin, that was what hurt them most not knowing due to distance. Feeling the skin, its warmth and humidity, its cold and imperfections, its flavor and temperature, like the skin changed its hardness during penetration, like the skin of the cheeks became elastic during oral sex.
Sensitivity, smells, moans, breathing, touch, the need to feel the other inside one, together, very close, extremely close, united by hips and sex. That was what was lost due to the damn distance.
When is the distance too much? When does it become excessive? It's always so if the desire to be with the other one keeps growing, sexual desires start dominating conversations and don't get fulfilled, the distance gets bigger and meters turn into kilometers and tracts double. The distance may kill orgasm but increases and stimulates desire. Distance is cursed for lovers and fuel for those who fantasize. The biggest enemy of the cursed distance are hot and desiring sexual souls that find each other in words and mutual masturbation and simultaneously in the way to be together. One's hands turn into the other's, as if by magic portals open, and it's her who touches him, and he who stimulates her. Cursed distance, we desirous ones will combat you with masturbation, words, and fantasies.
12 comentários - Story: Cursed Distance
Las fantasías nunca se agotan. Solo es cuestión de cruzarse con quien las alimente o cree nuevas..
muchas gracias dulce señorita por pasar y comentar, me alegro mucho que le gustara tanto
saludos
gracias por pasar y comentar.
MAGNÍFICO AMIGO👌👌👌👌👍👍, MUCHÍSIMAS GRACIAS, SALUDOS👍👍😃😃
gracias por pasar y comentar
saludos
se agradece mucho siempre
se agradece mucho siempre
muchas gracias por el apoyo al post tambien
Bendita cuarentena, acábate ya!
Muy buenas palabras las que escribes aquí 😉
Gracias por pasar y comentar