First Touch

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Copyright, 2001, NCmVoyeur

* * * * *

Lisa heard the sound of the front door knob turning and opening. She stopped the gentle ministrations her middle finger had been making to her clitoris. She looked at her bedroom clock across the room on her dresser. Its electrically-illuminated red letters blared “10:00.” Right on time, she thought. No trouble, obviously, finding the key she’d left resting inside a hanging planter on the stoop. Lisa wasn’t certain he’d come. But just planning for it had put her on edge all day.

She heard the door close. She listened more. Her two-story townhouse was completely silent, windows all closed, notwithstanding an unusually warm autumn evening. All Lisa could hear was her own breathing, and the tick of a clock downstairs in the living room.

Lisa felt a sudden chill run through her. She was tempted to pull the covers over herself, to warm her naked body, but she knew that wasn’t was she had agreed to do; agreed with man whose footsteps came in slow march up the stairs. Her mind wandered . . . remembering . . .

“Hi, are you busy?” he typed. Lisa saw the “Instant Message” window open on her monitor. At least this one’s polite, she thought. She had gotten an America Online account a few months after her divorce was finalized. One of those ‘trial CD’s’ showed up in her mailbox one day. She wasn’t allowed to use the office e-mail and Internet access for anything personal. Why not? she figured.

“No, not really,” she aimlessly typed back. It had been a fiew weeks after she got her account that she had wandered aimlessly into the ‘chat’ area. A night of looking around confirmed what she had once read; it was part community, part surreal sexual bazaar. Lisa wasn’t prudish. But neither was she accustomed to the blatant, matter-of-fact way the topic of sex was promoted.

“I don’t normally just approach people this way,’ he typed apologetically. Lisa smiled to herself. The line had a bit of a ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this feel,’ but it struck the right chord. Most of the others came off like the hormone-crazed frat boys of her college days.

It seemed like an eternity to Lisa as he stepped his way to the second floor. She resisted the continuous temptation to cover herself. Her bedroom was near total darkness, save for the bit of light that came through the closed curtain. And the light from the clock. But she had never felt more exposed in her life.

His name was Steve, Lisa soon learned. Age 37. Slightly older than her 33 years. Divorced long ago. A network engineer. And able to type a complete sentence, a feature she istanbul escort found lacking in most of the men online.

Lisa was normally guarded about her life. She had a few close ‘girl friends’ that were her confidants. But it had been 9 years since she had first met her husband, Mike. Discussing her life with another man had always seemed out of the question. But with Steve it seemed to come effortlessly. Maybe it was the medium, which was faceless. Maybe she just had the need to connect again with someone.

It started innocently. He was kind to let her ramble, which she was beginning to do more with each conversation. No detail seemed to mundane for him, from her routine as a small office manager, to her life growing up in the model midwestern family of 6, to the collection of cat artwork that pervaded her townhouse.

Steve’s life was as mundane when put in type as was hers, she thought. But, oh, his wit! He made her laugh. Lisa hadn’t done much laughing in a long while. The hours sped by.

It wasn’t until well into their third discussion that they discovered the coincidence that they lived a scant 30 miles apart.

Lisa saw Steve’s shadow appear in the doorway to her bedroom. She took a slow quiet breath, trying to stem the anxiety beginning to overtake her. Her thoughts raced . . . disjointedly . . randomly . . .”can he see me ? should I have put on music ?” A line from an old David Byrne tune danced in her head . . “you may find yourself asking . . . ‘Self . . . how did I get here'”? . . . Lisa almost had to suppress a giggle.

“So what’s your favorite sex fantasy?” Lisa’s heart skipped when reading those words. In the endless discussions with Steve on the computer, the subject of sex had been curiously absent. Or was the proper term’ avoided?’

“Can I plead the 5th?” she typed in response.

“Oh? That good, eh? 🙂 ” Lisa had been puzzled at first by the online chat ‘symbols.’ She liked the ‘ 🙂 ‘ symbol (“a ‘smile’ turned sideways” someone had politely explained to her). It was helpful when used by Steve, whose dry humor might otherwise be mistaken for sarcasm.

“OK, I admit, you caught me unprepared. I had to stall,” Lisa wrote. “Why don’t you go first? No, wait! . . . let me guess. You and 2 women together.”
“Well . . . Not that I’d turn down the offer. But after all these years I doubt it will happen, so I’ve moved it down the list for practical reasons.. Or are you offering? 😉 ” Steve said, adding the chat sign for a ‘wink.’

“Sorry, guy. Hate to disappoint, but I don’t have any friends avcılar escort to share you with. 😉 ” Lisa quipped, adding the wink sign herself. Lisa had no sooner hit ‘send’ when she gasped. She hastily started to add “That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean . . ” but his reply cut her off.

“Oh, that’s fine, I’m happy to have you alone.” Lisa could imagine him smiling. She’d set herself up on that one. Score one point for Steve, she thought.

He walked slowly, awkwardly, to the foot of her bed. Lisa wondered if his eyes had even yet adjusted to the darkness.

“But I’m sure a faceless woman on the computer is now suddenly your favorite fantasy,” Lisa wrote, hoping the facetious tone came through. “C’mon, Steve, I’m still waiting to hear your burning fantasy.”

Lisa didn’t know whether to look . . or look away. Steve’s breathing was audible in the stillness. She wanted to speak, but the right words escaped her. She heard the movement of his hands . . the clink of a belt buckle coming undone . . . the muffled snap of pants being undone . . “Spontaneous.” The word echoed in her mind.

“It’ll sound sorta cheap . . ” he responded.

“Go on . . I can take it.” Lisa was enjoying this exchange, feeling emboldened by the mask which the computer monitor afforded her.

“Maybe it’s a reaction to the caution of the 90’s . . . but . . I think of . . well . . spontaneous things.”

“What do you mean ‘spontaneous’?” Lisa typed.

“Sexual encounters with strangers. Random, spur-of-the-moment sex. Very little of the courtship games.”

Lisa paused. She wondered if the delay seemed noticeable.

“Do you ever fantasize about such things, Lisa?” he asked without waiting longer for her turn to reply.

Lisa hesitated more. She recalled the fantasies which had sprouted over the years as her marriage deteriorated. A stranger . an encounter. . . escape . . pleasure. . . Lisa’s heart raced just recalling those moments she’d spent alone in her dreams.

“I used to imagine sunning on a beach . . . warm sun . . gentle breeze . . alone . . .or so I think. Till the proverbial handsome stranger comes by . . we chat for a while . . . he offers to add some lotion to my back . . the touches progress . . . ” she wrote to him. “It’s cliched, I know. But I like it. 🙂 “

Lisa had observed the shadowy motions. She knew he was now naked at the foot of her bed. A dark outline in her room. The darkness was part friend, cloaking her anxiety, and part tormenter, accentuating the sense of the unknown. She felt the bed move, first by her feet şirinevler escort as he climbed on, then beside her, as his hand pressed down near to her shoulders to support himself.

“So what image in that fantasy is the most intense?” he probed. “What moment brings the most pleasure?”

“Hmmm,” she typed as she pondered. “I guess that first moment of joining– body and soul– with the mystery man. The sense of surrender, the forbidden.”

“Yes, quite forbidden. And very spontaneous.”

“Hard to get more spontaneous than that I would think,” she smiled.

The first touch came almost imperceptibly, the indirect sensation of her outer pubic hairs being grazed. Lisa moved her legs, parting her knees ever slightly more . . .

“Perhaps. But what if you just skipped the suntan lotion? That’d be even more spontaneous,” he said.

“What if I just skipped the hello’s and the introductory chat?” Lisa meant to joke, but her stomach was tingling.

“What if . . . . . . . .”

The first touch blossomed as she felt the head of his cock search, then part the folds of her labia. Steve paused for what seemed an eternity. Lisa fought the urge to arch her back. Her mind screamed for more. He pressed down, the head of his cock entering her, then the ever-widening shaft following, moving along the layer of moisture her finger had happily created minutes before. Both of them shuddered together.

Lisa finally reached her arms around him, her hands caressing his back, moving to his shoulders, as Steve began to find his rhythm inside her. She hungrily consumed him, her mind absorbing all the data about his body her senses could draw in.

His body moved with increasing tempo, the former stillness of the room now audible with the sounds of his movement and her wetness. Breaths turned to gasps, gaspss turned to moans, as their voices were revealed to each other, not in speech, but in the primordial communication of pleasure. Lisa moaned as wave built upon wave within her. She was lost in time; suspended outside reality.

Lisa felt his arms wrap around her, hips pounding with raw power straight down into her. She pulled her legs up, feet pointed at the skylights above, ready to take his orgasm. Steve came with a rough, hoarse moan, his stocky frame tensing as he pushed one last time deep into her. There he lingered, chest heaving along with hers . . subsiding. After what seemed minutes, he slowly withdrew himself from her, lowering her leg and rolling to her side.

Lisa reached over and flipped on the tiny reading lamp on her night stand. She was suddenly embarrassed to turn to him. She closed her eyes and laid back. Finally, she opened one eye to see Steve looking down at an angle towards her.

“A pleasure finally to meet you, Lisa,” he smiled, extending his hand as if to greet her.

She touched his hand with a giggle and sigh, then reached and stroked his face. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

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