#51, February 26, night

We lay in bed together. He in his country, I in mine.

We talked. We never talk on phone when either his partner or my husband are around, but the words we typed were as intimate as if we were whispering in each other's ears.

We made plans. Not for real events, but for events that will still make our bodies shiver, twitch, sweat; events that will make us moan out load with real pleasure. We lay out ground rules for being intimate with other people, both of us taking pleasure in being able to talk so openly about enjoying the company of others. Both excited by thoughts of the arousal of the other, with another.

The distinction between real and online is losing its meaning. My lover is a real person, an honest person, a person of flesh and blood, a person I know intimately, a person who makes me feel and do things. He's a part of my real life. Not my regular real life, but my secret real life.

The mood was so intimate, the air so filled with excitement. It was late, and I was going to sleep, but it took so little. I told him something, he made a comment... and suddenly we were weaving a scenario together, so taboo, so unthinkable, so arousing... We never told each other we had started to masturbate, but we both knew, and we both neared climax with such intensity, such heat. I knew he was about to come before he told me. I came shortly after.

After, we held each other, fell asleep together, hot and sweaty and messy.

He in his country, I in mine.