Jack says: "Are you wet?"
The small messenger window popped up in the lower right hand corner of Carol's plasma monitor. The delicate chiming sound that accompanied the alert caused her stomach to tighten in sexual anticipation.
Quickly closing the shopping network windows she was browsing through, Carol clicked on the chat icon and turned her full attention to Jack. Taking a deep breath in anticipation, her fingers flowed across the keyboard in eager response.
Carol says: "For you Jack, always." Send.
Jack says: "Good, my cock is hard just thinking about you."
Carol wasn't at all shocked by Jack's blatant forwardness. After chatting with him almost every night for three months, she knew and expected the pleasure he was about to deliver to her through cyberspace.
Tucked away in her dimly lit Victorian style bedroom in the back of her grandmother's old seaside home, Carol let all her inhibitions slip away.
Carol was careful to keep her voice low as she whispered to herself what she was typing.
Carol says: " Want me to help you, Jack?" Send.
Of course she knew he did. Patiently waiting for his response, Carol let the chenille bathrobe she wore slip off her shoulders, exposing her ample breasts and trim waist. She softly slid her fingers up her naked arms, then between her breasts down to her flat tummy. Jack's response stopped her before she delved into her own pleasure.
Jack says: "What are you doing now?"
Carol says: " Waiting for you." Send.
Jack says: "In that case, I'm already pleased."
Carol smiled. She only hoped that when he said he was satisfied that he truly was. The thought of him playing poker with his buddies while she was actually masturbating had made her uneasy at first. But after a time she began to think he might be worried about the same thing; the image of him jacking off over a keyboard while Carol and her friends giggled over tea might not be that appealing either.
Carol re-positioned herself in the chair, turning sideways and throwing one leg over the arm while her other foot stayed on the floor. This way she could type with her right hand, leaving the other free to carry out the sensual orders of Jack's explicit commands.
Carol and Jack had met through an online singles link one night when she was searching her matches. Jack matched her profile and happened to be on line. Jack told her that he liked her profile, but he didn't talk to women without a photo. Carol was immediately offended by his tenacity and decided to challenge him with quick-wit rebuttal. She told him that he was shallow, then informed him that he also had failed to post a photo.
Instead of getting angry at each other and signing off, their conversation turned into an all night debate over egotism and hyper-criticism. By the wee hours of the morning, they'd hit it off so well that they decided against showing their possibly disappointing photos to each other. "Don't fix what isn't broke," Jack had told her.
In just a few short weeks they'd discovered that they were both not only interested in each other, but interesting as well. Eventually they began to feel comfortable enough to trust their instincts, and their intimacy had become so strong that they knew each other's deepest, secret desires. In their minds they could clearly see, almost feel, every crevice and curve of the other's bodies.
Their main topic of discussion was the fact that most people could always talk a good sex talk, but when it came time to act on it, they wouldn't.
Carol often wondered if the fact that she was hidden in the privacy of her own room talking to a faceless man made her braver than she really was. If the opportunity for her to act arose, could she go through with it, or would she shy away?
They were both tired of humdrum sex and inhibited experiments. They both wanted someone who could match their sexual desires, someone who would follow through with their fantasies.
Carol's right hand bit into the arm of the chair as her fingers rubbed at her clit with uncontrollable vigor. At the height of her orgasm, she muffled a scream and used her foot to shove the chair away from her desk. She took a deep breath, pulled her robe back up around her shoulders and squeezed her thighs together waiting for the pulsing heat inside her to subside. After a short moment, she rolled the chair back to the desk.
She knew that Jack had learned when he'd taken her over the edge by her lack of response. He was always considerate enough to give her time to compose herself before he brought her back to reality.
When she was ready to chat again, Jack would ask her to describe to him in detail what she was doing that took her away from the keyboard. This in turn gave Jack what he needed to come.
Jack says: "Are you all right?"
Carol says: "A little warm, but fine." Send
Jack says: "I wish I were there to cup my hand over your pussy until you cool off."
Carol says: "Your hand on my pussy would all but cool it off!" Send
Carol guessed that Jack was laughing and tried to imagine what he might sound like. She didn't think he'd have a belly laugh or something stifled and forced. She pictured a low-pitched chuckle with a crooked smile.
Jack says: "Good night Carol."
Carol says: "Nite Jack." Send
Carol shut the computer down, then padded barefoot down the carpeted hallway to her grandmother's room, peeking in on her to make sure she slept soundly.
When Carol's grandfather had passed away a year ago the family decided that someone needed to live with and take care of her grandmother. Carol's parents were both career-oriented and were too busy traveling and working to dedicate their time an old woman.
Although Carol's sister lived only a few blocks away from their grandmother, she was busy trying to manage her own family. That left Carol. She was single, struggling with what she wanted out of life while managing a catering service for her uncle. So she moved from her studio apartment in downtown Seattle to Astoria on the Oregon coast. Her parents paid her handsomely to live in her grandmother's house there and care for her.
Crawling into bed after midnight, Carol began to feel troubled about her relationship with Jack. She knew she cared about him, but what if the feelings they claimed to share weren't all they seemed to be if and when they met? She thought about their appearances and whether or not they would still be attracted to each other no matter what they looked like. She hoped she had given an accurate and true vision of her physical and mental self and he had done the same. The worst part about her worries was would she be able to handle his rejection, if there was one, after all they'd shared?
She tossed and turned until daybreak before she was able to succumb to sleep.
* * * *
Carol barely heard the rapping on her door followed by her grandmother's frail voice. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not, so she ignored it until the door creaked open.
"Carol, honey," her grandmother crooned. "It's noon, darling. It's time to get up."
Carol rolled over, pulling the blankets over her head. "Okay, Grandma, give me a minute and I'll be out." She heard the door shut. Knowing if she stayed in bed any longer she'd fall back to sleep, she turned on her back and folded the blankets down. Staring up at the ceiling, her mind raced as she focused on waking up.
"Today is the day," she whispered to herself. All of her thinking during the night had brought her to a decision; she had to meet Jack.
Carol didn't know how much longer she could endure the torture of not having his body entwined with hers. She wanted to breathe in the musky, spicy scent of their sex on her linens, on her heated skin. She wanted to feel his warm breath against her ear as he whispered to her the things she could now only see in print. Her fist clenched at the blue satin sheets as she muffled an aggravated groan into her down-filled pillow.
There was only one thing keeping them apart: distance. Carol was stuck on the Oregon coast caring for her grandmother, while Jack, if he was telling the truth about his life, was an outfitter in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Carol had the impression that he wanted to physically meet her also when he'd told her he wished he had the time to come out to her.
But mid-summer was the busiest time of year for him. He had several guides working at once; all of them leading two- to ten-day trail rides into the mountains. Then in the fall, hunting season would begin. He couldn't possibly plan a trip away from home until at least December.
She shrugged off his wish as an excuse not to have to meet her. She wondered now if he had seriously wanted to see her.
She sat up, pulled her knees to her chin and felt alive and renewed with hope and anticipation. She was ready for the moment.
If Jack couldn't come to her, then she'd have to go to him. If she met him under an alias, she would be able to get to know him without risking what they had. If she liked him and he was all he said he was, she'd go home and continue working on the relationship they had. If they met again after that, he'd know what she did and all would become a happy-every-after romance.
If she didn't like him, she'd go home and simply wean away from their conversations on the Internet. No one would be the wiser.
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