| Hi, I'm Quinn for YourDesires... Call me @ 360.412.8211 (ask for Quinn) or E-Mail me @ "Quinn@YourDesires.com" | ||
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Status: Offline Age: 30 Cup Size: 34b Trillian: QuiverforQuinn My [Blog] My [Story Archives] Our [Extreme Sex Toy Store] |
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Likes: Forced submission (open to exploring being a domme), exhibitionism, bdsm, financial domination, cock worship, unwanted creampies, edging, hearing other people's fantasies, anal play, oral, group sex, CNC, rough sex, role play, toys, spanking, squirting. For more pictures and my full bio, click [here] (nsfw) | ||
Quinn’s Fantasies
Distance Part 1
We’ve known of each other for years. After passively meeting online, we
kept in contact with small nudges of conversation here and there. I
worried because I didn’t want you to feel like I was stalking you, but I
couldn’t stop reading your incredibly sensual, erotic poetry. In spite of
the distance, the strangeness, and both of our complicated, real life
relationships, I couldn’t stop feeling strangely connected to you.
I talked to my friends about you but they all told me I was just reading
into things, but apparently you were feeling the same way. When we stepped
off that first blog platform and into more intimate settings, I felt it
even more strongly. You’d already seen my “artistic” nudes so it didn’t
feel like that much of a leap to start sending you even more flirtatious
images. Sometimes you’d even send your own, but you’d always hold back,
not wanting to be too presumptuous. I took the presuming into my own
hands, making sure to torture you with renewed desire at every
opportunity.
The first time we talked on the phone I knew I was in trouble. It was
exactly how I imagined it would be. We talked for 3 hours, filled each
other in on all the details we were too embarrassed to share at first. All
your friends knew me by name and were shocked when they found out that I
was just someone from the internet. The timing even worked out perfectly,
your marriage had just become open and I was finally on the same coast as
you in a similarly open situation. At 4 am, when I finally forced myself
to say goodnight, I still couldn’t sleep. Every morning text you’d sent,
explaining all the things you wished you were doing to me were running
through my head.
To get any sleep I had to bring myself to orgasm over and over. Imagining
tracing your collar bone with my tongue, sinking my teeth into that soft
curve of your neck, running my fingers over the muscles of your stomach,
whispering quiet desperation in your ear. All I could think about was
tasting that cock you taunt me with, always tastefully out of sight in
your hesitant nudes. After finally passing out, it was all I could dream
about. When the sun woke me up, I grabbed my phone, dropped my pride, and
begged for that dick pic we’re always joking about.
