You know what I'm saying?

Many people tired of their lives, disappointments, lovelessness, look for an unreal world on the Internet.
So many stories we have heard or know of people who have met on a computer screen; some good and some not so good.
I was thinking about a young woman in her early 20's in a town in the interior of São Paulo, and this story came to me.
Unfortunately, the prince turned into a toad.
They set up a meeting, he took her to a sugar mill, raped her and killed her.
It's very sad.
But leaving that tragic ending aside, for a young woman in the prime of life who should have many dreams, let's get to our tale.
The Commission shall be empowered to adopt delegated acts in accordance with Article 26 to supplement this Regulation by laying down detailed rules for the application of this Regulation.
Another exhausting day's work.
I got home, I took a shower, and wearing shorts and a baby look, I ran to the computer.
A glass of Coke with ice and lemon, a natural chicken sandwich and there I was anxious, my heart pounding, my hands sweating.
A tiny excitement passed through my mind, nickname, my new "almost lover", the man in the computer.
My pulse quickened in anticipation and my panties soaked with the liquid sliding from my already pulsating cheekpiece.
Just the thought of it, and I was already sliding my hand over the crotch of my shorts, feeling my lips peeled under the cloth.
"Why couldn't I get to this point at Real? Did I feel safer because he couldn't see me? He couldn't see me inside".
I still couldn't believe I was doing this, restless and frustrated, searching for answers, looking for places where I'd heard about people discussing their sexual problems and dating, figuring out how to enhance my sex life.
The fake woman was usually fifty-two kilos, thick golden curls, blue eyes that seemed permanently dilated, big breasts like watermelons and narrow hips...ah and big buttocks....
And that's how I found Nickname.
Somehow it was just the two of us in one of the chat rooms, so that was the night of his first instant message.
When he appeared in my private window I was tempted to erase him. After all, I did not know him. And I knew about the danger of meeting people in chatter. I watched television, read in newspapers. But I felt so needy, his short conversations were so attractive and the temptation was great that I put aside common sense. Now it became a habit.
Now we were so close, to a point where I could discuss anything with him, read anything he wrote.
At first I tried to imagine what he looked like - tall, short, muscular, thin, what color hair he had - but now I found I needed something I didn't even know existed, now a need so great that I preferred to imagine his own image.
I remembered the first time we actually did what they called virtual sex.
An icon was flashing when I turned on the monitor.
With a sip of Coke, I clicked on it and the message opened.
Nickname: Hi! Are you hot for me tonight, Cat?- Did your cheek get wet when you saw the flashing icon?
If just from going to the computer to see if I would type that night with him I was already wet, imagine then; now just from receiving his message, I was so wet that I was sure that I was soaking the seat of the chair.
It's a pity you're not here to do something about it.
Are you wearing any clothes?
Me: Shorts and T-shirt, I typed back.
Nickname: Take off your shorts. Right now, Cat. I know you. Don't try to fool me.
You want to play a little game, Cat?
Me: Like what?
Nickname: I'm sitting here trying to figure out what you look like. Take off your shirt. Come on. Do a little striptease. Remember, you asked if men like this.
Take off your shirt and press your nipples against the monitor.
I told him he couldn't see me, but he said it was fine, that he had a good imagination, and I felt incredibly silly, so I took off my shirt and pressed myself against the monitor screen.
I can almost feel them.
Bite your nipples for me. Tell me how you feel. Stronger.
Hold your breasts in your hands and pretend it's me.
Nickname: Are you wearing panties? Sensual? I bet they are. How about describing her to me?
And so that was the beginning of the first time that I actually fucked myself with my fingers and described it to him, I thought I would die of embarrassment, then I remembered that he couldn't see.
Sometimes I thought I could really see myself.
Now at night, as I was distracted by the memory of the first time I undressed and touched myself in front of the computer, he called me again.
Did you take out Cat?
Me: not yet. wait.
I'm waiting for you.
I could almost feel his smile in his words.
I've got my hand around it right now actually.
Me: Oh really? Tell me what it looks like? What you feel.
Only after you take off your shorts.
When I sat back in the chair, the rough tissue of the pillow rubbed against the lips of my newly shaved vagina.
I got it. I got it.
Nickname: Are you sure? - he joked.
No cheating, are we?
Me: No cheating. Do you want to see? I played back.
I wish you could touch yourself for me and tell me how you feel.
I took a hand between my thighs and ran the tips of my fingers over my naked lips, her skin was smooth, covered with my moisture, my fingers sliding against the flesh in a sensual caress, the inner walls of my vagina trembling in stimulation, begging for a caress.
Licking my fingers in the way he commanded me to do, I wrote:
Me: Lisa is hot.
Go ahead and put one foot on your chair so you're wide open, slide two fingers into your warm, little mouthpiece and pump them in and out.
My eyes closed, and I performed my nocturnal ritual, knowing that he wouldn't let me have fun until after we'd left the computer. It was his way of keeping me on the edge, going back for more. But for once, I'd like to experience this while we were still connected.
The deep pulse inside my uterus strengthened and with my fingers I increased the rhythm and my thumb pressed the warm button of my clitoris.
Stop it!
My eyes suddenly opened as if I had really listened, the word flashed large through the center of his screen, then a message rolled down.
You know the rules, no orgasm until we hang up.
If I was in a room with him, I would have hit him. He always did that, he never let me climax until we were done. My body was vibrating with need, I slid back and forth in the seat of the chair, seeking some relief.
Don't cheat, asshole. I know you're thinking about sneaking around. Lick your fingers for me. Tell me when you leave them clean.
I ran my tongue over my two fingers.
That's it.
Maybe you need to be handcuffed to the bed while I suck your clit until I drive you crazy? What do you think?
What I thought was that I wanted him right here with me doing those things. I didn't even trust him when he said that I was safe with him. He was taking me one step at a time to a Dominant/Submissive relationship. And I don't know if I was enjoying it. I knew that he turned me on a lot. That I made fun of him many times without him knowing while I was typing with him.
Did he think that anything other than conventional sex would make me leave?
Now I've lost the chance to find out.
But not with Nickname.
At least on the computer, the thought exploded in my mind.
Me: I think I want you to let me have fun. - I typed with the rigid body with the desire to reach a climax.
He sent me a smiley face.
Keep going.
- If you like it, I'll finish it.
I was out of inspiration; it happens!!!
Sweet BJs!
Ayesk@
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