I’ve always been aroused by distance. The space between two lovers becomes charged with magic and tension. Conversations are converted into offerings. Words come to life to embrace and envelop. Separation conjures the creativity necessary to touch someone who’s out of reach. Distance develops a longing that is the lifeblood of romance.
When I make a connection, the world changes shape before my eyes. My mind saves mental snapshots to use for future discussions. I shop online to find something fun to ship to her mailbox. All day, I’m thinking of new ways to be erotic over the telephone and Internet. I feel challenged to keep our cyber courtship fresh and exciting.
A few months ago, I discovered a gem in a chat room for Jazz music. We’ll call this gem, Erika. We’ve been staying up all night playing music for each other via IM. Digging through our electronic libraries of Jazz and avant-garde music, every playlist became a lesson. It’s nice to have someone to learn from.
We soon discovered that we had much more in common than musical tastes. Our love for the experimental expanded beyond sounds and art into sexuality. We were both very aroused by one another’s curiosities; both willing and yearning to stretch our preferences. I felt immensely blessed to find a woman so open.
I think in every long distance relationship, phone sex occurs naturally—at least it does for me.
Sexuality often laced our conversations, leading into heated, sexually charged scenarios. Starting to paint pictures describing our desires, I realized that she was much more vivid, more skilled than anyone I’d ever experienced. She spoke with such warmth as, if a furnace burned in her womb. She progressed so smoothly from normal discussions to spoken erotica.
Again, the space between us summoned new ideas. I began to read her bedtime stories. These tales are similar to the stories we’ve enjoyed as children. There are princesses kissing frogs; ugly ducklings return as beautiful swans. The only difference: the hardcore sexual themes. Sleeping Beauty is bound to a table waiting for her prince to come home from work. Pinocchio tell lies so someone will sit on his face. We used these tales to explore our curiosities concerning bondage, bisexuality and public sex.
Selecting pieces of erotica was a real joy. It’s surreal, flipping through the pages of The Best of Penthouse Letters in a public, mainstream bookstore. I like the tension I feel when I approach the cashier with a copy of Love at First Sting, and I suppose it could be considered a form of exhibitionism to openly read erotica in the store’s coffee shop next to a guy trying to find the meaning of life in Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Our late night readings have become a nightly ritual. To keep it new, I try to diversify the material. Going to the adult bookstore, I dig for the oldest, dustiest, dirty books. Note: I learned through these stories that “Pearl Jam” wasn’t always a band, but a slang term for semen. I also look for humorous pieces, like the bit where the cross dresser is locked out of his house.
I find it interesting which parts of the story turn us on respectively. Erika is into the character development, hearing about the former nerd who’s now a modern-day Adonis. I’m more into the rhythm of the writing; the thrusting, choppy lines of action.
She likes to hear about the smells and tastes, for example: “The scent of his sweat mingling with fresh cut grass, his kiss returns to me sweet yet salty.” I must admit, I’m into anatomical metaphors involving coke bottles and beer cans.
A favorite for both of us, is reading within the quotation marks, impersonation the pleasure. While reading, my voice jumps from narration to panting in the throes of passion. When I read certain lines, Erika loves to accompany the story with sounds.
As I read the line, “Aileen and I next took turns eating Paula’s pussy,” slurping in my ear, she’s adding a new dimension to the art of storytelling. I could hear her muffled moans as I read, “Between licks, we would kiss deeply.” I swear I could feel the warmth of her breath pouring through my phone, soaking the side of my face.
The story continues after the last page.
Erika will be arriving to San Francisco very soon. I will take this as an opportunity to experience erotica firsthand. I’m anticipating the pressure that comes when the distance between two lovers get shorter. I imagine the tension will prove forceful enough to cause several explosions over our weekend together. I’ll keep in mind that she’s into character development and take things slow. I’ll give her time to smell the roses.
Distance has allowed us the chance to prolong foreplay over the course of days, weeks and months. All along, we’ve been priming the passion that is leading us to this point. A single touch can cause orgasms. A simple hug sets my world on fire. Our first sexual encounter will, hopefully, inspire me to write some tales of my own.
To purchase the Naked Reader Book Club selections, visit the Naked Reader Book Club Store.
When I make a connection, the world changes shape before my eyes. My mind saves mental snapshots to use for future discussions. I shop online to find something fun to ship to her mailbox. All day, I’m thinking of new ways to be erotic over the telephone and Internet. I feel challenged to keep our cyber courtship fresh and exciting.
A few months ago, I discovered a gem in a chat room for Jazz music. We’ll call this gem, Erika. We’ve been staying up all night playing music for each other via IM. Digging through our electronic libraries of Jazz and avant-garde music, every playlist became a lesson. It’s nice to have someone to learn from.
We soon discovered that we had much more in common than musical tastes. Our love for the experimental expanded beyond sounds and art into sexuality. We were both very aroused by one another’s curiosities; both willing and yearning to stretch our preferences. I felt immensely blessed to find a woman so open.
I think in every long distance relationship, phone sex occurs naturally—at least it does for me.
Sexuality often laced our conversations, leading into heated, sexually charged scenarios. Starting to paint pictures describing our desires, I realized that she was much more vivid, more skilled than anyone I’d ever experienced. She spoke with such warmth as, if a furnace burned in her womb. She progressed so smoothly from normal discussions to spoken erotica.
Again, the space between us summoned new ideas. I began to read her bedtime stories. These tales are similar to the stories we’ve enjoyed as children. There are princesses kissing frogs; ugly ducklings return as beautiful swans. The only difference: the hardcore sexual themes. Sleeping Beauty is bound to a table waiting for her prince to come home from work. Pinocchio tell lies so someone will sit on his face. We used these tales to explore our curiosities concerning bondage, bisexuality and public sex.
Selecting pieces of erotica was a real joy. It’s surreal, flipping through the pages of The Best of Penthouse Letters in a public, mainstream bookstore. I like the tension I feel when I approach the cashier with a copy of Love at First Sting, and I suppose it could be considered a form of exhibitionism to openly read erotica in the store’s coffee shop next to a guy trying to find the meaning of life in Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Our late night readings have become a nightly ritual. To keep it new, I try to diversify the material. Going to the adult bookstore, I dig for the oldest, dustiest, dirty books. Note: I learned through these stories that “Pearl Jam” wasn’t always a band, but a slang term for semen. I also look for humorous pieces, like the bit where the cross dresser is locked out of his house.
I find it interesting which parts of the story turn us on respectively. Erika is into the character development, hearing about the former nerd who’s now a modern-day Adonis. I’m more into the rhythm of the writing; the thrusting, choppy lines of action.
She likes to hear about the smells and tastes, for example: “The scent of his sweat mingling with fresh cut grass, his kiss returns to me sweet yet salty.” I must admit, I’m into anatomical metaphors involving coke bottles and beer cans.
A favorite for both of us, is reading within the quotation marks, impersonation the pleasure. While reading, my voice jumps from narration to panting in the throes of passion. When I read certain lines, Erika loves to accompany the story with sounds.
As I read the line, “Aileen and I next took turns eating Paula’s pussy,” slurping in my ear, she’s adding a new dimension to the art of storytelling. I could hear her muffled moans as I read, “Between licks, we would kiss deeply.” I swear I could feel the warmth of her breath pouring through my phone, soaking the side of my face.
The story continues after the last page.
Erika will be arriving to San Francisco very soon. I will take this as an opportunity to experience erotica firsthand. I’m anticipating the pressure that comes when the distance between two lovers get shorter. I imagine the tension will prove forceful enough to cause several explosions over our weekend together. I’ll keep in mind that she’s into character development and take things slow. I’ll give her time to smell the roses.
Distance has allowed us the chance to prolong foreplay over the course of days, weeks and months. All along, we’ve been priming the passion that is leading us to this point. A single touch can cause orgasms. A simple hug sets my world on fire. Our first sexual encounter will, hopefully, inspire me to write some tales of my own.
To purchase the Naked Reader Book Club selections, visit the Naked Reader Book Club Store.
| The Naked Reader Book Club | Selections for May 2010 |
| Peep Show – Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel | Afternoon Delight – Erotica for Couples Edited by Alison Tyler |
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This is hot and so true!