A week or two ago, I told you I wanted to show her to you.
For the longest time, I thought she didn’t want me to. I’m not sure WHY I thought that – she’s never given me any reason to.
But let me describe her to you.
She’s in her twenties, slender, incredibly hot. But don’t take my word for it. Judge for yourself. Here’s a tease – her, dressed up (at my request). There are lots more pictures of her if you click through….
We’ve been flirting by e-mail forever. I don’t even remember when we started.
Her compliance is insane. Whatever I ask her for – and I ask her for much – she gives me, smiling, grateful for the opportunity to please me. It’s clear that as hard as she gets me, I get her equally wet.
Recently, she told me that she wanted me to post some pictures of her. I was flattered, touched, gratified, and excited. But which ones should I post? Initially, I asked her to send me a couple to post. This, somehow, wasn’t what she had hoped – she wanted me to pick some that she previously had sent. So we compromised. I asked her to send me two, and I picked a bunch more. The two she sent, taken by her, explicitly for this purpose, were the one above, and this one:
I know, right? Shit – this is one sexy woman.
There’s lots I like about our relationship: not just her beauty, not just her compliance. She’s interesting, interested, curious, thoughtful, smart. To remind you, she lives thousands of miles away, and her English – not her first language – is shockingly good. Recently, she’s begun doing some adventurous dating. On the one hand, I’m both jealous and envious. Jealous, because I worry that one day one of the people she dates will steal her from me. And envious, because these lucky sons-of-bitches get to touch her, use her, in ways I almost certainly never will. And that just seems manifestly unfair.
But on the other hand, I’m grateful. As I’ve written elsewhere on this blog, jealousy is a powerful emotion, the exploration of which I find fascinating. Particularly when, as with Sofia, there’s so little that’s real at stake. Don’t get me wrong: I like Sofia, I appreciate her. The volume of insanely hot stuff she sends me is kinda unimaginable (she just exhausted the capacity of her Gmail account this morning), and I don’t particularly want to imagine doing without it. And we have interesting conversations. About our lives, about dating, about sex. But the emotional stakes remain fairly low. I know that I have no right to expect anything of her. I know that she will, one day, drift away from me, pulled by some compelling real-life local boy. So, as she explores her sexuality – having sex with men, with women, with couples, with groups – I feel these powerful pangs of envy and jealousy.
As she does, she tells me all. She often writes lengthy reports on her previous night out. Or she records herself telling me about it. About the hourly hotel in which she fucked a boy she met for the first time that night. About the couple with whom she went home after a few drinks. About the douchebag who stood her up after the first time he fucked her (but whom she enjoyed fucking enough to do again even after being stood up).
As I’ve written before, the most powerful balm for my jealousy and envy is disclosure and trust. The fact that she’s fucking all these people, that all these people are getting to fuck her, is devastating to me. But it’s made slightly more bearable by her relentless willingness to tell me all – about what happens, about how she feels about what happens, etc. And I’ve discovered that if, instead of listening to her accounts from the vantage point of a jealous faraway lover, but rather, from that of an imagined partner, hearing what we did, or would do, it’s really fucking hot.
And then, of course, there’s the porn she makes for me.
Here she is, in a full-body, frontal shot. I had asked her to dress up for me, and take a number of pictures of her in, and out, of her outfit. This was the first:
As you get to see her body, you’ll see how fucking hot she is. How her curves are insane, her ass demands spanking, her tiny delicious tits demand sucking, biting.
These next two shots show her, again, dressed up, but this time, from behind.
Again, I feel like I have to say, “I know, right?” The way her hair hangs down to her tiny waist, just below it, touching the top of her magnificent ass. SHIT.
Here she is in another outfit. This shows off her legs better, don’t you think? (Incidentally, this shot originally was in color, but Sofia didn’t like the lighting, so she converted it to b/w. It’s too bad, because the dress actually is a lovely maroon that shows off her coloring nicely.)
Here is another shot she converted to black and white. This one, I agree with her, is much better:
She seems to have some great lingerie – I feel truly blessed.
I’m ready to stop teasing you, to show you just a little more of her.
Are you ready?
It turns out I’m not. Quite. I wanted to show you this – her round, heart-shaped, delectable ass. Again. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.
And here she is, getting ready to swim. It seems that where she lives it’s always warm, she’s always headed to the beach. I love to imagine the ogles she gets….
She’s like a model. She isn’t a model, but she is like one. And she’s mine. Deliciously.
I know you won’t rest til you see those tits. Here they are. I don’t know how to look at them and not to imagine my mouth closing on them. Can you?
I know you want to see more of Sofia.
I can’t promise you that – it’s entirely up to her.
But maybe you’d like to hear her? (I’m thinking of trying to persuade her….)