Last Night, a short story by TheChameleon. Date added: 2011-11-19. Times viewed: 9060.

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Intro: True Story About My Evening

As I was going home last night, I was thinking about finishing off the story I was working on, and about the ideas I had for 2 more, based on events shared with a woman I had met on line, and we lost contact, How we actually wrote stories together, her writing a paragraph, sending it to me, then me writing one, and vice versa, how we incorporated both our fantasies and darkest thoughts, never editing the other. It was amazing how it progressed. So this morning when I got up and came to work, I thought I had my stories planned for the next few days, but lo and behold, last night hit me between the eyes, and I thought I would share it with you all. I hope you enjoy it, it is absolutely true.

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God V, I have to tell you about last night. After work I went home and listen to the wife complain about her new job just like it used to be before. After supper I went down stairs to watch the hockey game, and she watched her reality shows. Seems since I met you 10 years ago, this has become the norm. I know that you cannot leave your husband at this stage of your lives and I respect that. But damn, it is hard to live a lie. I realize that for 25 years, I didn't have a clue what love was, but I do now. Sure, I lust you more than any woman I have ever met, but it is so much more, there is the emotion, the physical, and a spiritual attachment to you, that frankly scared me when it first hit.

I turn the TV on, and I am flipping channels, thinking about my day, and how in the last month I have started writing erotic short stories and posting them on the web. Partly out of frustration, partly out of excitement, and wanting to share some of our stories and fantasies, and a large part, because I love to think about sex, all kinds of sex, even sex that we would never do, but think about anyways.

Soon my thoughts drift back to our conversations, how our words sometimes come across misconstrued in e-mail format. Fuck, you are so far away now, and at times I feel lost and helpless, and then all of a sudden one e-mail from you changes all that; and I am on top of the world. I recall your words today telling me how you have changed, put on weight, and to be honest, I do not give a fuck, when I see you, I do not see what you or others might see, I see the real you, the smile, the person, the only time I notice the other, is when you bring it up. Sexiness is not a look, not a thing you can put on, it is a person, it is something unexplainable, either you have it or you don't. Age does not even come into the equation. And sadly most people do not understand this.

Soon my hand is in the loose cotton pants I have changed into, thinking how you loved to stroke it. I never met a woman that just loved to fondle cock and balls the way you did. The words that you wished you had your own to hold and play with everyday stuck in my head. I smile as I make it grow longer, tracing the veins along the shaft with my fingers.
Already I can feel the drops of pre-cum forming at the tip. The smell of my cock is rising up, and I think about that conversation way back in your office, about the smell of sex, and we both wondered if others could smell the arousal we had for each other at work.

As my thoughts go to your image, I begin to pull the foreskin back, exposing the head. You were the first woman to make me feel comfortable about having a foreskin, here in North America, it seems to be a hindrance, most women say they would never be with a man with a foreskin, yet in Europe, it appears to be accepted, and even desired to a point.

Damn, this feels good, not as good as being with you, but good. You introduced me into a whole new dimension of love and sex. As I stroke it, I wish you could be sitting there watching me jerk off for you. Another first for me, I never knew women wanted to watch that, but you did. I can feel my pre-cum starting to run out of me, and you telling me, you had never seen a guy that could have so much pre-cum. Remember when my pants would get so wet, I could not leave my desk for an hour, and you would laugh?

After you moved away, we still kept in touch, it has been 5 years now, and we talk every fucking day, probably 100 times a day.

MMM, I am squeezing my cock firmly, I love the strokes; slow, firm and long,
just the way you loved to be fucked; not fast like a jack rabbit, but long, deep and with passion.
I recline in the chair looking down at my cock as I rub it, and get the urge to taste the pre-cum, knowing that it would turn you on to watch it, me breaking another barrier for you. It is clear sticky fluid, not like my cum with its thicker whitish mixture.
I bring the fingers to my nose, trying to smell it. Again, it smells good, like sex. Only difference, it is the end of the work day, I have not showered yet, so it has some trace of urine, but again, it adds to the sexiness, the perversion of it. My fingers are just coated with it, and I stick my tongue out, slowly sampling it, almost as if it is bad, the taste will go away quicker. Weird thoughts, I know, but they are there none the less. Wow, the taste is good, I can see why you like to suck cock, it is a lot better than I had imagined. Soon I am stroking with one hand, and scooping pre cum with the other, and eating as much as I can, my cock getting harder and more excited by the minute. Years of practice of jerking off, have made me last for a long time. You loved the way I could fuck and not cum to quick, sometimes too long you said. I wish you could see me licking my fingers, I am sure you would be playing with your pussy as you watched. All the perversions we were going to try together are locked in my brain now. My cock feels like it has a life of its own, needing to shoot it load. My thoughts shift, and now think of our one night where we got to sleep together, and how I watched you sleep, looking at your chest rise and fall, making sure you were breathing. How I loved your tummy, and you thought that was weird too. Our biggest fantasy was to go camping, and just walking down trail with our coffees, laughing. We both knew the sex would be great, better than with anyone else, so we focused on the little things that everyone else takes for granted. I wish we could take those days back. I can feel my cock start to pulse, and I know I am getting closer, and I could stop it if I wanted to, but like you told me, let it go, it will feel better, more intense.
I lift my shirt, wanting to feel the hot liquid as it shoots up the length of my body, a par of me hoping it over shoots and hits me in the face. I am older now, and know that probably won't happen, but I can dream. Then it spurts; warm, sticky, gobs of it. I cannot speak for other men, but it is a warm comfortable feeling when I cum like this. I scoop it up, bring it to my mouth. Can I do it, can I actually eat my own cum. I think it would please you, but I am not 100% sure, maybe you would think that was gay or unmanly, or maybe that is my reasoning so I do not have to do it. I want to do it, I want to push my limits, but alas, I just smear it across my chest. Maybe next time I will get the nerve.
I clean myself up, head up stairs to bed, roll over and look off into the night, drifting off, my last thoughts are.

V, I love you more than ever, just know that in your heart

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