现在事情已经过去了几个星期。你已离去，但那件事令我没齿难忘。我试图拼接记忆的碎片，那对我很重要。
我们在餐厅等候就座。你倚着墙,我背靠你。在公众场合和你在一起，我总是有点紧张。我们之间有电流传送。怕你在公众场合出丑，所以我只能与你保持一点距离,不触及你。我有与你一起飞翔的感觉，但我也担心：我不知道我们会飞向何处,飞多快，多远。我确信你也一样不知道。
你伸出手触摸我,你的手在我的胯部轻轻游走。你把我拉向你，让我紧贴你。我喜欢你这样, 我喜欢你的手在我的全身漫游。但我也讨厌这样，因为我不能触摸你,只能被动地任你触摸。我屏住呼吸，因为我不知道你想要什么：如果你想在众目睽睽下探索我的全部，你知道我不会阻止你。我向后稍仰,你轻拂我的发际和胛窝。过了一会，一只颤抖的手放在我的胯部。我知道你想做什么，你想让我把乳房贴在你的手掌。你透过我的薄裙子，抓住我的臀部，我能感觉到，你的小弟弟正在变得坚强，轻轻抵压着我的臀部。
这时，你轻轻对我耳语:
我想就在这里操你屁股，用我的精液淹没你。我要浸透你的衬裤，在回家的路上顺腿流下。
顿时我的呼吸加速，我知道你听到我的心跳。我用后背贴近你，臀部移动着寻找正在变硬的小弟弟。我的闸门洞开，你也一样。
在我们之间，以这种方式，发生这样的事情，是常有的。它意味着欲火的即刻燃烧。一句话，一个眼神，它就会突然发生，强烈的，不计后果的。突然,我感到饿得要死，但我不再想吃。为什么当欲火燃烧时，我们会直接转向彻底的色情？为什么对我们每一个人来说会是这样？我不知道。也许它被彼此头脑中的某些东西所决定——但是它来了，我喜欢，我渴望，你也一样。
现在我希望你在大庭广众，把手放在我两腿之间，在我的裙下滑动。我不会阻止你，我会闭拢我的腿，夹住你的手，以大声喊叫来鼓励你。我担心你可能会问我什么，因为我不能回答你，我只知道你和我在一起。
现在你轻轻地把我推开一点，告诉我，我们的桌子准备好了。我在颤抖和发烧，我不能看服务生。我感到衬裤濡湿，不知道怎样转移注意力。
我不看你，我在看桌子下面。当我喝着你要的酒，你低头悄悄地对我说，你想和我做。
我的面颊在燃烧。你知道我不会拒绝你。 我从未拒绝过你。
我站起来，走到女厕所，插上门。
我在水池上坐稳，褪下我的裙子。
衬裤不要全脱下来，你说：我要你只将它们拉到一边。
我要你来替我进入。
我把丝绸衬裤拉到一边。当我的手指分开肿胀湿润的阴部，我气喘吁吁。我已经那么热切，那么湿滑。我想让你操我屁股。我在想象你怎样把小弟弟轻轻地毫不费力地插入我的屁股，我怎么也不能抓住小弟弟的头，你也实在是够大。
我要你为我掰开你的逼。
我要你用手机拍照，然后把照片发给我，就在这里。
我要你展示你的逼，它属于我。
我一一照办。就象这样张开时，我的腿有些颤抖。发送照片时，我的手也在颤抖。
在公共场合，当你不能和我在一起时，你让我自慰，为你来高潮。可是以前你从未要求我拍照。
现在发一张照片，让我看看你有多湿。
发一张你的手指放在阴蒂上。
让我看你怎样为我张开。
我一一照办。
我拍下了一切，你要求我拍的一切。我发送它们到你的餐桌。
我甚至不能忍受看这些照片，但我知道，当我们回公寓后，在给我小弟弟前，你会让我看。
我发短信给你，请打手机给我，让我来高潮，告诉我什么时候来。
我现在背靠镜子，把两个手指摁进阴道，这时电话响了，你在话筒里向我耳语：告诉我你想要什么……
过了很长时间，我的呼吸渐渐沉稳。有敲门声，和不耐烦的把手转动声。我穿好衣服。
你不让我来高潮，你也不让我洗手。当我回到餐桌时，递给你我的内衣，紧紧地卷成一小团。我坐下，你弯腰抓住我的手，含住我的两个手指。你的唇和舌环绕着我的手指吮吸，我的身体向后倾斜，我阖上眼睛。当我举起酒杯一饮而尽时，我全身战栗。我感觉就象是你的唇正在亲吻我的阴蒂。我不在乎谁正在看着我们。我感到一身狂野，当你再次弯腰俯身时，我知道你想说什么。因为只有你可以独自进入我的大脑。当你对我说, 你的逼是我的，我知道那是真的。
在我看来，我的肉体不过是我生命的渣滓。事实上，不论谁想要我的肉体，我都会说拿去吧，那不是我自己。一艘炉火熊熊的汽船或一具欲火熊熊的肉体，他们都可以得到，但要想同时取得我的灵魂，即使朱庇特再生也休想。
原文>>>>>http://mycyberaffair.blogspot.com/
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Lees
Weeks ago now and you are gone, but it always takes me so long to capture what's important.
We're at the restaurant, waiting for a table. You're leaning against the wall, and I have my back to you a bit. I am always slightly nervous in public with you. This vibrating line between us means that sometimes i can barely look you in the face in public, I can barely stand to be near you without touching you. I have the feeling of flight with you, and I have also fear: I don't know where we are going, how fast, how far. I know you don't know either.
You reach for me and your hands rest lightly on my hips, pulling me back into you, against you. I love when you hold me like this, I love the freedom your hands have to roam all over me, but I also loathe it, because I can't touch you, I can only submit under your touch. I hold my breath, because I don't know what you want: if you want to grope me in full sight of everyone, you know I won't stop you. I lean back and your lips brush my hair, my neck. One hand trembles for a minute on my hip; I know that what you want to do is slide that hand up so that I can push my breast into your waiting palm. You grip my hips a little more firmly through the thin cotton of my skirt, and I can feel your cock getting hard, pressing a little against my ass.
And now you whisper in my ear:
I want to fuck your hot ass right here and fill you with my come. I want you to feel my come soaking your panties and running down your leg as we walk home.
Now my breathing speeds up, I know you hear the catch in it. I push back into you a little, subtly moving against your stiffening cock. I'm coming undone, and you are too.
There is this way we have, this thing between us, it means that the flame turns up right away. A word, a look, and it's suddenly there, all consuming, devouring. Suddenly I am starving but I no longer want to eat. Why does this happen, why is it that for each of us, our desire veers straight to the utterly pornographic, when it comes to each other? I don't know why, it's something about being inside each other's heads--but it does, and I love it, crave it, you.
I want your hand between my legs now in full view of everyone, sliding up under my skirt. I wouldn't stop you, I'd close my thighs on your hand and come on you, crying out. I am afraid of what you might ask of me, because I am helpless with you, and I know you are with me.
Now you gently push me away from you a little, you tell me our table is ready. I am trembling and flushed and I can't look at the server. I don't know how I'll walk but I do, I can feel that my panties are damp.
I'm not looking at you, I look down at the table and when I'm drinking the wine you ordered you lean over and tell me quietly what you want me to do.
My cheeks burn but you know I won't deny you. I never do.
I get up and go to the women's toilet and lock the door.
I balance on the sink. I pull my skirt up.
Don't take your panties off, you'd said. I want you to just pull them aside.
I want you to come in them for me.
I pull the crotch of the silky fabric aside. I gasp when my finger parts my swollen smooth labia. I am already so hot, so wet. I'm thinking about you fucking my ass, I'm thinking about how you gently ease the head of your cock into my ass, how I cant take more than the head of you yet there, you are too big.
I want you to open your cunt for me.
I want you to take a picture with your phone and send it to me now, here.
I want you to show me your cunt belongs to me.
I do. My legs shake a little, holding myself open like this. My hands shake too sending you this.
You've made me come for you in public before, touching myself in a public place subtly, when you couldnt be with me. You havent asked me for this before though.
Send me a picture of how wet you are now.
Send me a picture of your fingers on your clit.
Show me how open you are for me already.
I do.
I take them all, everything you asked me for. I send them to you at the table.
I can't bear to look at them even, but I know you'll make me look at them later when you take me back to my flat before you give me your cock.
I text you, please call me, please let me come, tell me when.
I am leaning back now against the mirror, and I have two fingers inside my aching cunt when my phone rings and you whisper into my ear, telling me what you want...
It takes a long time for my breathing to slow down. There is a knock on the door and an impatient rattling now of the knob. I put myself back together.
You didn't let me come and you didn't let me wash those fingers. When I am back at the table I hand you my underwear, this silky scrap rolled up into a tight ball. You lean over and take my hand as I sit and you put my two fingers into your mouth. Your lips and tongue closing around them and sucking make me lean back in my chair and I close my eyes and shake as I lift my glass and the wine slides down my throat, it feels to me as if your lips were closing around my pulsing clit, and I don't care who is watching us. What I feel is abandon, and when you lean over again I know what you say is true, and it's only because you alone can get inside my head that it's true when you say to me, your cunt is mine.
Methinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me. [. . .] and come a stove boat and a stove body when they will, for stave my soul, Jove himself cannot.
言为心声，歌以咏情。
