It’s midnight here and early morning there.
I’m lying in bed at the end of a long day and my transpacific other is walking his dog in the beginning of one.
His voice in my AirPods.
Telling me how to touch my nipples.
Telling me how to circle my clit.
Telling me how to use my moonstone.
And then making me cum.
In between I hear the exotic calls of Australian birds in the park.
In between I hear him throwing a ball for Poppy, his fluffy dog.
In between I think that beloved D is sleeping next door and I could have real sex with him instead of virtual one with someone I never met.
I wonder if this would be as arousing if it wasn’t that absurd.
I wonder if my cunt would be as open and wet if my other would live 100 kilometers away instead of 16.000 and if he had an Austrian accent rather than an Australian one.
Probably not.
Probably that’s my version of kink.
And probably I need a new definition of „real“.
Photo by canva
