Where does love come from? Who knows? It arrives on a breeze, as gentle as an egret and as heavy as a squirming walrus. Sometimes it arrives by Kik…
Stacie BARBOUR said I looked sexy. She said she was so turned on right now. She said her pussy was soaking wet right now.
My heart galloped. Could it be, finally, that I had met the new love of my life? She had seen my tiny Kik profile pic and had immediately become severely aroused, her very vulva becoming uncontrollably moist.
This boded well for me ~ if her passion was this strong before I had even uttered more than a couple of sentences to her, imagine her ardour when we actually met! Oh, the sweet explosions of joy that would ensue when our lips finally found each other, like hungry lampreys in the Sargasso sea.
Stacie wanted to see a picture of me. In my haste to reply, I said I was going to come my chest hair rather than comb it. But Stacie, angel in human form that she was, forbore my clumsy typings. She knew I was too excited to be accurate, we were both carried away by this tide of raw emotion and overflowing vaginal lubrication.
Stacie, the imp, told me how she wanted my manhood. She wanted it a lot. I sent her a seductive picture of myself imagining the honeyed glide of intromission.
But it was not to be. Stacie wanted to take our relationship to a whole new level with which I was uncomfortable. A level of webcams, credit cards, possible major hacking of my bank accounts and suchlike.
Is all love doomed?
I fear it might be.
Though our relationship lasted only a few minutes and was entirely fictional, it was deeper and sweeter than most couples I know. In those brief moments, our minds were as one, our bodies, though separated by time and space, were entwined in the grace of universal lovers.
My only regret is that I did not receive more pictures of her cunt.