Electronic Love

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Sandra hated the phone. Despised it. She vastly preferred the Internet, preferred typing to talking. All her friends told her she had a great voice, what one of her friends called her “phone sex” voice, but she just wasn’t that talkative.

A lot of kids at school took her quietness as snobbishness, and that along with her petite, curvy body and dark, exotic features gave them quite a lot to hate her for. She had a small, close group of friends, and most of them had a thing for the Internet too, so whenever she could Sandra logged on. She whiled away hours in chat rooms, message boards, and various websites.

One Saturday at about two in the morning, Sandra was idly surfing through a chat room especially designed for people in her area to meet. It wasn’t very active, mostly middle aged divorcees desperately seeking love, and she was just about to log off and go to bed when an Instant Message popped up on her screen. She didn’t recognize the screen name, but the greeting seemed friendly enough, so she typed a “hello” back.

They ended up talking for almost two hours. She’d learned that he was thirty-six, single, never married, had a passion for true-crime novels and classical music from the Baroque period, and had one child, a daughter, whom he’d never met due to the fact that he’d broken up with the baby’s mother shortly after she’d been born. He said he lived in a town about fifteen minutes away from Sandra’s own. Sandra went to bed with a smile on her face that night.

Sandra was well aware of the dangers of the Internet, and how easy it was to pretend you were someone you weren’t – she’d done it a million times before, until she’d turned eighteen and hadn’t needed to pretend – but something about this man, even if he was twice as old as she, gave her chills that ended in a very strategic spot low in her belly. Rolling over on her back, she trailed her slender fingers down her stomach and into her simple cotton underwear, pressing her fingertips lightly onto the sensitive nub of flesh standing guard above her virginity. After only a few minutes of alternating between her clit and trailing fingers up to tweak her sensitive nipples, a violent orgasm crashed through her and, before she could stop herself, made her yelp in pleasure.

Mere seconds later her mother came running down the hall, hastily throwing a robe on to cover her nightie, just as Sandra was pulling her fingers from her underwear.

“Are you okay, honey?” her mother asked, brushing tousled blonde hair away from her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, ah… yeah, mom. Fine. Just a bugbite is all,” she responded, her husky voice threaded with guilt.

“Okay, babe. Get some rest, huh? Church is early tomorrow.” With that, her mom walked back to bed and Sandra relaxed against her pillows. When she fell asleep, she dreamt of the mysterious KJFreeman032.


Over the next couple of weeks, Sandra talked to KJFreeman032 almost every night, until the wee hours of the morning. More recently their conversations had become less publicly appropriate, and a bit slower due to their one-handed typing. Sandra was amazed that this man, who said the KJ stood for Kevin James, could know exactly what to say to catch her breath and send boiling fire straight between her legs. She felt guilty acting this way about a man so much older than she, and over the Internet nonetheless, but she couldn’t deny that she had had some of the best orgasms of her life over the past two weeks, right in front of her computer screen.

One night Sandra was feeling blissful enough, coming down from her latest orgasm, to give him her phone number. Not five minutes later the phone rang, and Sandra entered a whole new state of enthrallment. Kevin James’ voice was not unlike her own, deep and husky, and it sent chills down her spine just listening to him describe exactly where his hands would go on her body, hearing him moan as she mapped the quest of her lips on his. She went to bed at five o’clock that night – or rather, that morning – tingling all over and never happier. She was floating on a misty cloud straight to heaven, and right there next to her was Kevin James Freeman.

A couple days later during another of their secret late-night phone calls, Kevin brought up what they had both been thinking about for a while.

“So, ah… what do you think about meeting?” he asked, his rich tenor voice rumbling over the phone lines and into her ear.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, partly in relief that he had brought it up and partly because three of her fingers were currently deep inside her pussy, probing at her most sensitive spot. “God, I want to meet you,” she responded, her voice hushed since her mother slept not fifty feet away in her room down the hallway.

“I have to come to Cliffside on business next week. Do you want to meet then?” he asked, his question punctuated by a moan as his sturdy hand wrapped around his thick cock and stroked steadily.

Since Cliffside was where she lived, Sandra was all too happy pendik escort to meet this man, her electronic lover. “I would love t-t–oh god,” she moaned, unable to finish her sentence from the orgasm that rocked her body. “Let’s meet,” she finished, her voice weak.

“Good,” he responded, his own voice strained as her own orgasm pushed him closer to his peak. “I’ll be staying at the Venture Inn, room 804. When do you want to meet?” He clamped his teeth over his bottom lip, biting back a deep groan as his cock emptied itself under the attentions of his hand. He almost felt guilty being this way about a young girl he’d never met before, barely more than a child, but his cock had stirred the first time he even glimpsed her screen name, and he had been unable to resist since then.

“Let’s meet Wednesday night, around eleven. My mom works the night shift then, so I won’t be missed.” Her pussy throbbed with the mere thought of seeing this man in person. Her hand slid from between her lips, where she had been sucking the digits clean, back below the waistband of her panties.

“That sounds good, baby. You sound good,” came the response. His cock twitched in his boxer shorts as he envisioned running his hands over what he imagined to be her lithe, almost delicate body, feeling her writhe beneath his touch.

Sandra heard her mother stirring in her room down the hall, knew she was probably getting up to use the bathroom. “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll see you Wednesday then?” she inquired.

“Yeah. Wednesday. See you later, baby,” he answered.

She reluctantly took the phone from her ear and shoved it under her pillow before pressing the Off button, so as to muffle the beeping sound as the phone shut itself off. She hastily rolled over on her side, relaxing her muscles and closing her eyes, mimicking sleep as best she could with her fingers still buried in her damp panties. She fell asleep that way, her fingers gently cradling her pussy lips, palm against her clit, the first stirrings of an orgasm falling away as dreams took the place of fantasy.


Wednesday rolled around only after five eternities had kept Sandra in a constant state of agony. She arrived home from school after a late play rehearsal with just enough time to kiss her mother goodbye as the woman headed off to work. Sandra bolted the door behind her mother and rushed up the stairs, shedding her demure school clothes and immediately pushing aside the rest of her rather conservative wardrobe to reach the back of her closet, where she kept all of the items she never knew she was saving for today. After a brief scrutiny, she chose a slinky satin number in forest green, with a hemline hitting mere centimeters below the curves of her ass. She decided to forego a bra, though her breasts were rather full and heavy, trusting the snug-fitting material of the dress to keep them in place. Besides, she liked the look of her unfettered cleavage in the daringly low neckline of the bodice.

Sliding her feet into strappy black stilettos, she teetered back and forth over the carpet of her bedroom before balancing herself on the narrow, spiky heels. From there she strode over to her full-length mirror, feeling her bare hips shift under the material of the dress, and scrutinized her bare face and lackluster hair.

In half an hour, she had her hair in glossy, loose waves and had accentuated her eyes with an eyeshadow that matched her dress. Knowing full-well that most lipstick didn’t taste the best, and fully intending to kiss any lip adornment off anyway, she kept it simple and slicked only a sheer gloss over her soft, full lips. When she was finished, it was a quarter after ten. Not having any means to get there except to walk, she decided to leave.

The closer she got to the Venture Inn, the more shaky and nervous Sandra got. A single bead of cold sweat trickled its way between her shoulderblades and made her shiver, adding to the tremors that had wracked her body since leaving the house.

Upon reaching the hotel, she simply stood outside and stared up at the lighted sign, its glow producing in her a kind of reverie broken only by the wailing of a siren many blocks away. Shaking herself out of her trance, she walked into the lobby, limping only slightly after the ten-block stroll in knife-edged heels. After being pointed the way to room 804 by the uninterested lobby clerk, she took a detour to the restroom to make sure no street grime had marred her appearance. Staring at her reflection, she noticed the pupils of her warm, slanted brown eyes were dilated wide, making her eyes seem dark and almost doe-like. She curved her lips slightly, feeling a familiar sense of pride in the shape that had drawn so many boys before. Tonight she wasn’t to be having a boy. She was going to have a man.

She strutted her way down to the elevator that would take her to the third floor, where 804 was located. Before the doors closed the elevator off from the lobby, a young rocker couple rus escort entered the elevator, situating themselves behind Sandra. They apparently wanted the same floor as Sandra, for they pressed no other floor button, but that too could have been due to the fact that their hands and mouths had not left eachother’s bodies since the elevator doors slid soundlessly shut. Sandra shivered in anticipation, feeling a sense of premonition in the young couple’s actions.

It took her a few moments to walk off the elevator once the doors had slid open to reveal the third floor. The young couple, sure enough, stayed on the elevator, their hands slowly creeping toward more vulnerable areas of eachother’s bodies. Sandra began walking down the hall, her eyes scanning the doors for numbers. Finally, toward the end of the hall, there was one labeled 804. Gulping hard, Sandra stepped up to it and knocked, once, twice, before letting her hand fall limply to her side.

She heard footsteps from inside, and heard a click as the bolt was unlatched. The door opened slowly, and there was Kevin James Freeman. He stood in the doorway, leaning slightly against the doorjamb, taking her in as she did him. She wasn’t much surprised, as she had envisioned a man very similar to the tall, wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped man who stood before her. Though, where she had expected short, slightly thinning hair was a thick mass of dark hair waving subtly down to his ears. It was mussed, as if nervous hands had been running through it. His eyes were a piercing gray, clouded with so many emotions that Sandra could not name them all.

He reached out one wide-palmed hand to cup her cheek, and her breath fluttered against his wrist. “Sandra?” he asked, his rich voice even more so in person, vanishing the bones from her knees.

She could only nod. His hand slid down her arm and his sturdy fingers, belonging more to a blue collar than the business-minded suit he was, twined with hers. He led her gently inside the dusky room, light filtering only weakly through the grainy hotel curtains hung on the window.

He stopped her a few feet inside the door, turned to look at her, placing surprisingly gentle hands on her shoulders. They stared at eachother for long moments, she tilting her head back to look him in the eye, before he enveloped her in a crushing hug. It was not unlike that of her great-uncle Jarvis, except that his hands were stroking up and down her sides instead of pounding her back. Her skin tingled under his touch.

They pulled back, their hands captured in eachother’s. Finally he gestured toward the small bar set up in one corner of the room. “Would you… would you like anything to drink?” he asked, his voice husky with ill-hidden desire.

She nodded again. “S-sure.” They walked over to the bar, and she hoisted herself up onto a stool.

“Hm… looks like there’s vodka, tequila, some O’Doul’s, and rum.” He looked up at her, a silent question moving between them that did not pertain to her preferred drink.

“Ah.. the rum is fine, I guess.” He nodded, poured her a small amount in a faceted crystal glass. Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, and her breath caught in her throat. She sipped, feeling the warmth uncurl in her chest and spreading to her toes. It seemed to concentrate just where her legs came together.

Kevin came around the bar, slid onto a stool beside her. He studied her, leaning an elbow against the bar as she held the glass to her lips, letting the smell of the liquor permeate her senses. Unable to resist, he stroked a hand through her hair, letting the strands filter through his fingers. He felt her shiver, knew it wasn’t from the cool air of the shady room. Saying nothing, he took the glass from her hand and set it aside on the bar. Slid from the stool to sidle closer to her, his free hand going to her waist.

In the blink of an eye their mouths were crushed together, tongues entwined and bold in the mouth of the other. Her fingers dug into his hips, his buried in her hair, their bodies pressed up against one another. Judging by the tension on the skin of her thigh, she imagined that he was very excited to see her. One of her hands slid down to the spot in hopes of calming his nerves. He groaned against her mouth, the vibrations rumbling in her chest and setting the peaks of her breasts on edge.

Their kiss broke only reluctantly, but his lips stayed on her skin, trailing down her neck and shoulders, his hands moving ahead to push the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The muscles under her skin rippled under his lips as her hands slid up his chest to the first button of his shirt. Her hands trembled, but she managed to undo them all, sliding the shirt off his wide, muscled shoulders and revealing a toned, lightly furred torso. The muscles of his chest quivered under her touch, and this newly discovered vulnerability emboldened her. Pulling him closer, she replaced her hands with her lips, darting her tongue sancaktepe escort out to taste his skin.

His arms went around her, searching her back until they found the hard metal line of her zipper. He smoothly pulled it down and her dress loosened, her breasts spilling out of the already tenuous bodice as she leaned forward to close her lips around one of his small, dark nipples.

Grabbing her around the waist, he stumbled with her to the bed, where they collapsed side by side. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, one hand sliding up the rumbled fabric of her dress to caress the silky skin of her breast, brushing a thumb across her already tight nipple and drawing a strangled gasp from her lips. With a wicked grin he slid down slowly, slightly, trailing his tongue over the skin of her chest to encase the erect peak in his lips. Her back arched against him, her hands grasping the material of the bedspread as the movements of his lips and tongue against her breast shot bolts of fire into every nerve of her body.

She could all but hear her skin sizzle as his free hand slowly trailed down her dress and underneath its hem. His body stiffened as he encountered not even the flimsiest of barriers to halt his progress, and he drew his head up, looking at her with a quizzically furrowed brow. She smiled up at him and curled fingers around the hem of her dress, pulling it up to meet the bodice bunched around her waist.

His lips trembled open in anticipation, the obvious bulge in his pants twitching slightly. Her hands slid to his belt, unbuckling it slowly, almost torturously. Her fingers then moved to the clasp of his pants, flipping it open and drawing down the zipper. His cock strained free, pressing against the flimsy fabric of his boxer shorts in a desperate attempt for release. She brushed her fingers over the cloth-covered tip, reveling in the sounds she could draw from him through the smallest of touches.

He drew his body away from her, trying hard not to take notice of the disappointed look on her face before he slid slowly down her body, circling her ankles with his hands and drawing them up over his shoulders. She was open to him, wet and waiting, evidence of her arousal clinging to the downy hair that covered her mound. He leaned forward and kissed her nether lips not unlike the way he kissed her mouth. His tongue darted out, played here and there, pressing on her clit just enough to draw a low moan from her throat before he moved on. He teased her, drew out the sensation until she was bucking against him, her keening cries begging him to take her over the edge.

He slowly slid his tongue into her hot tunnel, flicking the tip into all her hidden crevices, drinking the juices of her arousal like a man just been through the desert. He pressed his tongue against a fleshy mound on her upper wall and she cried out in release, her thighs tightening around his ears as the sweet tension built up, then flowed out of her in an insane rush of ecstasy. She went limp on a low moan of satisfaction, her legs sliding from his shoulders to rest on either side of his legs as he knelt between hers. He half-grinned down at her before sliding from the bed, standing only to shove his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them aside and clambering back onto the bed beside her.

He stretched out on his back, his shaft pressing against his stomach, all but crying for attention. Sandra rolled over onto his legs, straddling his thighs just below the sacks of skin encasing his ego. Her upper arms cradled her breasts as she reached out to stroke her fingertips up, then down the thick pole of erect flesh pressing against his stomach. His hips arched ever so slightly, a low growl of tortured pleasure escaping from between his lips. Licking her lips, she slowly circled her hand around the shaft, her long fingers only barely meeting her palm as she drew her hand up to the ridge of flesh where the head of his cock began. Leaning down, she placed a wet kiss to the head, her tongue flicking around its slit to taste the pearly precome oozing out.

Sitting back upright, she grinned down at him as his groans became muttered admonitions to God. He looked up at her, his eyes half wild and not a little admiring. “God, Sandra, you’re.. ahhh,” he moaned as her free hand slid down to cup and stroke his ego.

Sandra had seen a man’s nether regions on more than one occasion before, had touched and even once laid her mouth on them, but never before had simply touching one made her half-delirious with raw desire. Shifting her hips slightly, she began grinding her hips against his leg, slicking his thigh with her juices. Her hands matched the pace of her hips, and as she brought herself closer and closer to a second orgasm, her hands moved up and down his shaft with heightened desperation until his hips were bucking against her hands.

Sandra felt his shaft swell and knew he was only too close to release. Sliding down between his legs, she leaned forward and pressed the head of his cock between her lips, never stilling her hands on the remainder of his shaft. With a groan exploding from his throat, he bucked his hips against her face and let go, his come spurting into her mouth and trickling down her throat. Working hard to suppress her gag reflex, she gulped it down, savoring its hot, thick texture.

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