We met as two serious people talking mainly about books and art, sending big chunks of text via email because letters were not that viable. We never wanted to impress or to be pedantic, but we finally met someone who could understand the most intimate part of our reflections on those topics. It’s like we made up for several years of our hidden inner lives because we previously had no one to talk about what we absorbed from books and art, and all this joy made us curious about each other.

No rush, no commitment, just curiosity. I had seen a subtle picture of her, but the physical side was not even a consideration to me. My relationship was good, although sex was lacking lately, but it wasn’t a big issue. Still, the more we wrote to each other, the more I was curious about her. After some months she wanted to show me some of her drawings, and I was truly impressed when I saw them. They seemed to follow the surrealist tradition, and they focused on the human body, although in a prude way, more spiritual, more intellectualized.

I had been drawn nude before by posing online and posting on forums following certain poses, and I had been taking nudes for about 10 years, but I didn’t want to reveal this secret about myself nor to introduce anything that could lead to sex, although I wondered how it would be to be drawn by her. Still, after some conversation about art, I told her that I had this double life that made me feel like an impostor and that I already had drawings of my nude body, and she was curious to see them, although there was no reaction about my body, but rather a critique of the drawings themselves. She was very disdainful and was obviously far better at drawing and painting, and she made sure to express her superiority. That was when I felt her dominating instincts.

Some weeks passed and we delved into more spiritual and personal topics. We were knowing each other more intimately and we felt like soul mates at some point, which posed an existential threat to my relationship. Although everything was going well and my partner provided me with the best life I could have, I had found a new friend that understood me on a deeper and more intellectual way. The only problem was that she was a woman, so I knew my girlfriend would be jealous. I had to keep it a secret, although nothing happened between us. In the end, I knew that a relationship between us would not work. We did not share the same emotional connection, we didn’t have the same traumas, we came from a different social class, we had a different sense of humor, and above all, she was an absent figure, and presence is essential to a relationship.

Although we were close and intimate online, she had phases where she vanished and only came back about a month later. Once, we planned on reading a book together and discussing it via Skype, and I finally saw her better. Her neck was hypnotizing, delicate and attractive, and her face was pleasant but nerdy, with thick glasses that diminished her eyes, and short hair, but the details were not visible with digital communication quality. I just knew she had really, really long nails, colored, artistic nails, but really long. She had an overlooking attitude, kind of snobbish, and small but perfect teeth with a beautiful smile which transformed herself completely from a highbrow University Professor to a naive schoolgirl again. A very spontaneous and genuine smile.

She was a typical professor, and she was finishing her doctorate in literature, so she kind of corresponded to the stereotype. We discussed the book for about 15 minutes, since it was the purpose of the meeting, but went on to talk about life for about 2 more hours. I am pretty sure we touched a lot on religion because it was the topic of the book, but we related it to our lives. She did not like religion at all, but had a very spiritual side, which made her meditate twice a day and have a very strong, tempered mind. After that pleasant conversation, she once again vanished for a month. A always welcomed her back like nothing happened, but I noticed that she would go away when we got more personal.

I told her I had a girlfriend, but she never asked anything about her. Yet, she wanted to know if I was happy and what was lacking, and I also asked if she had a boyfriend and if she missed having sex. She told me she did not miss sex at all. She could be months on end without sex and she never watched pornography in her life. I was astonished to know that but given her ignorance about the modern world and how focused she was on books and art, it actually seemed plausible, and I tried to be careful with my words to not make her feel judged, immediately mentioning that she was saved from this industry. I confessed that I had been ultra sexualized by porn because of being exposed to it at an early age, although I had stopped watching porn about 5 years ago. 

‘But don’t you make porn?’ she asked.

‘I do, but the photos from the drawings you’ve seen are not even porn for me’.

‘Really? How come? I can’t imagine what you consider to be porn, then’.

‘I can show you if you allow me to, but only mild stuff’.

‘Of course. Send it’.

I first sent a folder of about 15 erotic pictures I took, only 3 of them with a soft penis in the shadows, but slightly noticeable. She was shocked to see that those were ‘mild’ pictures. She thought those were very explicit, especially because some of them included my butt cheeks, but she commented on my body, saying I looked like an Ancient Greek, and congratulated me for my body. This was the moment when my penis decided to take charge for a while, and I showed her pictures with erections and my butthole, which she seemed to like, but she said they were not as explicit as the last ones and if the previous ones were mild, these would have to be mild as well.

I was a little bit offended because of my conceptions of eroticism and pornography. The erotic pictures were not sexualized, or at least they were more teasing, while the second bulk of pictures was obviously sexual and showing everything, so although I disagreed with her definition of mild, a part of me wanted to prove that I could produce ‘wild pornography’. And this is where I showed her the real pornography I made. I sent her a folder with several videos of myself masturbating, not showing my face, and while she enjoyed some of them, she said that I lacked emotion while ejaculating in some of them, maybe because she couldn’t see my face and because there was no audio in some of them, which made me even more furious, although I never expressed it verbally. Instead, I recorded a video for her at that precise moment.

I was furious because she complimented me and my body, and now she was critiquing my cum and saying that erections and buttholes are not wild compared to erotic pictures. I lost my mind, and what was just a conversation about my art turned into an online sexual interaction. I didn't even notice it, because things can change in a second when one goes into these gray areas. I put the camera on and masturbated with my face visible. I did not need to fake or exaggerate anything because that interaction was turning me on well enough. I fingered myself to show all my dirtiness. I stroked my cock with pleasure because I was already hard from the conversation, and about 2 minutes later, while I was merely trying to be sexy for her without even holding my cock, I couldn’t handle it anymore and exploded. Cum went everywhere, I gasped, I moaned, and my face was recorded to show what the previous videos couldn’t capture.

I cannot really recall what her feedback was. I think she only said that it was definitely dirty and wild, and since it was really late at night, she went to sleep with only a few words. On the next day we talked about different things, but I wanted to send her pictures of myself. I was reading a book she was curious about and did a photo session with it, and she showed appreciation for it, although she did not seem as enthusiastic as when she first saw my body. Was the magic dead? Did I screw things up? In the beginning of our interaction, I already knew that including sex in any way would ruin our relationship, and still, I could not resist it. We talked for a few days, and she vanished once again.

After a year without a sign, and never meeting in real life, I moved to a place near her because of my relationship. I was driving on the highway for a hike, dressed in my hiking clothing, when I saw a road sign for her hometown. I messaged her without any hope, thinking for a whole year that my sexual content made her go away, saying that I was hiking about 20 minutes away from her city. She seemed to like the idea and invited me to dinner, but she was currently watching an Opera, so I hiked for about 3 hours in order to wait for her. I usually hike to have my mind in order, but the amount of possibilities, the reasons why she stopped talking to me, everything was coming to my mind. It sucked the joy out of my hike, and I was a mere body walking through nature without being immersed in its beauty.

Finally, the time came and we met for the first time in real life. She was quite tall, her style was very different from mine. She had an alternative vibe, like a mixture of someone who could be on a techno rave but was also a professor at the same time. Well ordered, simple, dark attire, but the alternative touches gave her a sense of uniqueness. As always, her nails were extra-long. I parked the car, and we walked to the restaurant, talking about the Opera she had just seen, which was an adaptation of several songs by a popular folk singer, and we discussed it superficially, trying to switch the subject to ourselves, which eventually happened at dinner, where I asked her directly what had happened for her to be absent for a whole year.

I did not want to embarrass her, but I felt rejection and guilt due to exposing myself so much and being abandoned right after that. Maybe I misread the signs and should not have kept going on the nudity. She merely had a moment of curiosity and nothing more, probably. I was the one who exposed way too much of myself because of my libido. I thought I was being encouraged to with the compliments, but that does not mean that I should have gone further. It was my intense desire revealing itself and destroying something beautiful that took a year, on and off, to build. I knew she would not confront me with it, or maybe I am still wrong to this day, so she blamed herself and her busy year and health issues, but I apologized to her for my behavior still, even if she insisted that it had nothing to do with it.

With that conversation out of the way, we could finally meet each other and talk freely about our current life. We talked about my hiking, about the beauty of nature, and she recommended new hiking spots. She also insisted on me inviting her to my next hike, proposing some locations far away for us to visit soon, almost assuming that we would meet each other regularly, which left me surprised. It seemed like she wanted to compensate for her absence and started to remember who I was. It felt like she was being a little submissive towards myself. People often say that I have an intimidating look and being tall also helps in that regard, so I wonder if she was working as self-defense, but considering that we met once again, I think she felt some kind of attraction to me. We drank some beers while dining, strong ones, and the conversation was flowing, and the social filters were giving in to alcohol.

After dinner, we walked around the city, talked about our dogs, and left all the intellectual subjects aside. There was a big party with different concerts, so we grabbed some more beers and kept walking. She showed me her favorite places and we could hear the music and the loud noises from the concerts. The whole city was awake, and the streets were full of life. We passed around a gym, and she mentioned that before deciding to go to University, she had pondered joining the army, but her poor vision did not allow her to, among other complications. Yet, she was physically fit and mentally capable, and she expressed some regret about not following that path. She was a competent person and very inclined to sports, but she also found meaning in teaching. It was her vocation, and she eventually embraced it. I touched her arm to see if she still had muscle, and she did not seem to bother.

‘I want to draw you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve been painting and drawing some things lately, but a new challenge could be interesting.’

‘But when? What type of drawing?’

‘Your photos come to mind. Maybe we could work with something like this.’

My cock instantly got alert.

‘Oh, I see. And when do you want to do it?’

‘If you have the time, we can do it tonight, maybe. I can draw a sketch and then fill in the gaps’

I had to work the next day, and my girlfriend was already suspecting something. I texted her saying that I was having a stroll around the city near my hike and there were concerts too, so maybe I would stay a while. She never wanted to be possessive, so she said ‘OK’. I think she went to sleep.

We entered her home, and I told her I needed to take a shower because hiking got me all sweaty. I never expected her to join me, and she did not. I washed myself as fast as I could, with an addictive adrenaline rush. I felt my heart beating, I felt alive. Finally, some sexual excitement, but I was not hard. Alcohol might have had an effect on the blood flow. Still, as an exhibitionist and someone who craved some type of worship, being naked in front of someone was always fun. Being obsessed with anal, to give and take, I also cleaned myself, and while doing that, a moment of clarity came into me, and I decided to behave. Trying something sexual would be a big mistake. I knew I had to keep it professional, and she had always been an ethical person, so I treated this encounter as something artistic, intellectual, at least on the surface. A part of me wanted to have sex with her the whole night, but I knew we couldn’t do that. I was starting to wonder at which point I could interact with her sexually and still be able to tolerate the burden of guilt.

She was waiting for me with her canvas, brushes, and all the painting material. She was professional all the way and painted me in several poses. As I was posing for her, I started to wonder at which point all of that was worth it, but my adrenaline addiction kept me going. The poses were more and more explicit. She first started by asking some mild erotic poses with no visible penis. Then the penis was included. Then she asked me if I could keep an erection for a sketch. I felt like I would say yes to anything, and I did. She took her camera and asked me to take some photos of my naked body and, of course, I said yes. Being so vulnerable made it deeply erotic, like my trust was fully in her, and at the same time, the danger of her having so much control over my life provided me with an even stronger adrenaline rush. That’s when I started to get seriously aroused and my cock started to signal it.

‘This is just in case I don’t remember anything. I can easily complete the paintings later from the photographs, although having someone posing in real life is far better for details and perspective.’

I nodded. I could not talk much because I was too excited and afraid of what I would say. Yet, she commanded the interaction like she was the boss there, and I felt like an employee working for her, although I was interested in doing the whole thing. She then put the camera pointing at me and kept painting. I wondered if it was recording, but at that point I felt like my life was in her hands. She then asked me once more to change my pose, and this one was the naughtiest. She wanted me to be on all fours with a hard penis, looking her in the eye. 

Being so hairless and tanned, and being in good shape at the time, I felt admired and excited. My body was already a success online, but I had never shown it like this, in real life, sexually ready and in my typical pose for photos and videos for the porn I made, so I actually wanted her to be recording only to ask for those videos in order to extract content to my reddit blog, disregarding all the impact it could have in my life. I was sexually hooked, and not cumming allowed me to be stupider and stupider. To not measure consequences. And so, we continued.

‘Now turn your head to the wall’. She asked. Or commanded, to be precise.

I heard her steps, and her proximity made me confused and even more excited. I was about to cum but had to handle it professionally, although I knew I had to cum soon, I just didn’t know how. Suddenly I felt her kneeling from behind and a tongue sliding into my anus. I closed my eyes and felt shivers, which is something I rarely experience. It was similar to the biggest relief of my life, because I had been craving a rim job for my whole life and never got to experience it. I grabbed the sofa, did not look at her, but simply opened my ass cheeks and thighs, and she devoured my hole, licking it and licking it gently and aggressively, giving me different types of patterns to enjoy. I really wanted to cum.

After my ass was fully lubed with her saliva, I felt her fingers and long nails in my ass. I was wondering if those nails would be dangerous inside me, although I wanted her to finger me. Better yet, she then entered me with a strap on and fucked me with her dominating, military side. No words were uttered, but I moaned like a little girl and felt like a slut, which left me excited. The prostate stimulation, the edging, the alcohol, the adrenaline rush, my exhibitionist side, it all came together. 

I told her I had to cum, so she put her head below my cock, and with one hand she kept fucking me with a dildo, and with the other she stroked my cock with her tongue out. She was waiting in a cold way for my semen, with the same determination, with no vulnerability. She behaved like I owed her my cum. And so, I did cum, screaming in relief, and even as someone who hates losing control, I had to close my eyes and moan the whole time and even after that, and still I was breathing heavily, unable to move, after ejaculating. 

With cum still on her face, she then clicked on the camera again, and that was my hint that she filmed us the whole time. My hole had doubled its size, so she decided to paint it again with my legs up, looking at her. She photographed me like this once again with the pretext of finishing the paintings later, and my post-nut clarity was kicking in. Yet, the amount of chemicals I released was not allowing any negative thoughts. I was in a perfect state of happiness. Sexually satisfied, anally satisfied, my cum was traveling on a woman’s face, and (supposedly) I had a great amount of new content. Photos, videos and paintings for me to post on reddit. My hedonistic side was fulfilled.

‘Go take another shower’. She kind of ordered once again. I did not like her dominating tone while not being horny, so I looked at her defiantly. Yet, I knew that was the price to pay if I wanted to keep doing that. Our roles were established, although I still wanted to dominate her in the future. She handed me one of the paintings and said, with her cum filled face, that she expected me to come back next week to finish the session artistically and sexually. I left without saying a word, and surprisingly, at that point, not guilty. I felt like I was entitled to do it, even though I was not. I enjoyed listening to music on the highway and drove for an hour thinking about the possible interactions with a new mistress.