As some of you know, I am working on a big project about voyeurism (which I won’t go on about her because it’s a naughty thing to do on a #MasturbationMonday post). This short piece of fiction is a kind of spin-off to one of the stories, and may yet become part of the overall final story in some form or another. I think it kinda fits Masturbation Monday, and hope it’s sexy enough for you.
She carries the box, her insides whirring, the heart printed in the top left corner the signal that she must open it in her bedroom and nowhere else. Her fingers quivering, she strips it of its brown paper layer and removes a card.
Take out the device. Stand it at the end of your bed and raise the little screen so it points at you. Flick the switch. Then get naked.
She can feel it: that burning excitement of the unknown. She imagines it as a flame-coloured light, filling the space between her thighs, spreading her legs wide on the bed beneath her as she balances the box and pulls up the screen. With a surge of boiling trepidation bubbling from her belly and converging on her clit, she flicks the switch.
She gasps as the image appears; she is right through it. Inside it. Thrusting herself back, she begins to take in the sight of him in front of her. An image so believable, so real, her instincts are to touch it, but her fingers only penetrate the holographic chest.
“Get naked for me. Just like I asked you to.” The words come out of the hologram, synchronisation perfect. “Catch up with me.”
So far, she’s only gazed at his face, wanted to feel the heat of his torso beneath her hands. But his nakedness goes all the way down. Her lips part, and she stares, fascinated, as the image kneels to match her own position on the bed. He begins to get harder, thicker, and he takes his cock in his hand, stroking with a soft touch. This is new. The real ‘him’ has never done this for her. She’s always been the one to make him grow hard with wet lips teasing him through the screen. “It’s like you’re in the room. Are you – watching? How does this work?”
She receives no answer. Neither does she need one, really. Stripping away her shirt and leggings, she straddles the bed, watching his ethereal self gliding fingers over his shaft and circling his cockhead until a glinting spider’s thread of pre-cum slips over his finger. Her finger stretches, but she stops short of the thick girth.
“Imagine you’re touching me. Touch my face. Tell me what it’s like.”
Hesitating, she traces a fingertip along the line of his jaw. Focuses hard on how she imagines he would feel if his flesh was really in contact with hers. “Your stubble. Tickling my fingers. Your jaw. Warm. Soft cheek.”
Beneath her hand, his face comes alive in her head, pressing into her palm. She stops only long enough to release her bra, letting the lace fall from her breasts, watching the image of his face, wide-eyed, the tip of his tongue pressing against his lip, as her straps slip down her arms to land in front of her knees.
“Feel me. Touch any part of me. Learn my body in your mind.”
Her hands trace the projected image carefully, exploring in her mind what she sees in front of her. The curve of his neck; fingers following the shape of his chest. The ache from her clit travels through her folds and radiates into her lower back. Throbbing, pulsing, she imagines his ribs beneath her palms, sinking lower on the bed, her tongue instinctively wetting her lips in anticipation of drawing his cock into her needy mouth.
Her body entwines in the sheet as she sinks lower, yanking off her knickers, her vision one of a futuristic self ready to pour her desire into bringing him to rapture, and he filling her to the brim with her reward. In the throes of her imaginings, her body instinctively thrusts itself into his grasp. Her heart lurches as his hands disappear into her body, her pussy drenching itself at the thought that he can just reach in and touch her, find every part of her that a living, breathing human can’t touch. He can go right through her. Know her innermost secrets.
She needs to touch his cock, to feel it against her lips while the fingers still fuck her, hard now, transferring her desperation into the pounding inside her. The hologram is so detailed she can see him glistening wet. A rush of sadness fills her that she can’t taste it, that she has to imagine his cum slick inside her mouth, pooling on her tongue. Imagining what it must be like, with him. Desires unfulfilled, desperate. She wants to know. How much longer can she wait?
“Lay back. Let me make you happy. Watch me. Don’t lose contact. Feel me.”
With a sigh, she falls back against the sheet, her legs falling open, her gaze never leaving his face as his head lingers between her thighs. Her fingertip becomes his tongue, flicking and lapping at the button that holds her insatiable need. She wants to pull the hologram to her, to not let go, but there’s nothing to hold on to and it drives her crazy.
“Let me in. I want to know you.”
Her desires forming molten lava within her core, her fingers slipping between her folds. His image follows, leaving her breath as tiny whimpers. She rolls her clit, drawing wetness from her folds, his hand covering hers, and she lets her mind fly, allowing herself to believe his cock is creating the delicious agony between her thighs, exploring her soaked arousal, pushing his very essence into her hot, waiting cunt. She devours his touch, his moans, his thrusting cock, leaving him drowned in her juices.
“I want to come inside you.”
Her response is to thrust against him harder, pushing herself onto him and holding herself there, feeling the hard kiss he envelops her mouth with as she thrusts and rocks alone in the bed with her imaginary lover.
Eyes tightly closed, feeling him nearing his release, she loses herself. “Oh God, I want you with me. I want…” Her orgasm fires through her, exploding behind her eyes, drowning his cock. She needs to feel him, to throw her arms around his neck and hold him to her. He is here with her; she can feel it. Any moment he will fill her with his desire for her. Opening her eyes, she glows, knowing he will be gazing out her with that look she has seen on a screen for so long. She gasps.
His body is a haze, its form gaining a translucence that makes her cry out. She tries to touch him, but it’s as if she’s touching a ghost. Something that could have been. Or never was.
“Stay. Don’t leave.”
The images fades until she can see all the way through him. And as he leaves, he takes her heart.
Was this a one-time thing? She can’t bear the thought of that. She wails after it, “I want you. Always. I want…”
Ghostly, the ether claiming the body, yet his voice growing in urgency, he begs: “What? Tell me.”
But the hologram has gone. Her eyes blur as she grasps at her arousal, determined to take the image of him in her mind to the edge, and make him spill over into her.
Has he guessed, this hologram, what it is she really wants? At least he can’t see her now, making a fool of herself. He nearly saw right through her.