This story contains sexually explicit scenes.
Fate/fayt/ n. 1a. A future determined by a power that is unalterable, b. an individualís appointed lot.
I met him online. The attraction was immediate. With witticisms that grabbed my attention, he made me laugh. His intelligence, a bit daunting at first, became intriguing. But that wasn’t new. Online was full of men with just the same attributes. Intelligent men whose charm had been tossed to the wayside as they were caught up in their worlds of business. Men who let the world think they no longer had fantasies, until along came this medium of anonymity. With the mask of technology, they could finally unleash the charm they had carefully kept hidden.
He was just the same, and yet, he was different. What made him different? I’m still not sure. All I know is he was.
The beginning was as most relationships are in the outset: a burning flame hitting petroleum, exploding in brilliant hot sparks with embers refusing to be suffocated. I jumped online as often as I could with hopes to talk with him. Just the sight of his name would stoke the fire that I thought was passion. We talked for hours and hours about anything. The discussions challenged my mind and, because we talked so openly, frequently challenged my body.
We didn’t “cyber” in the way one might think. As a matter of fact there was never a discussion that ended in the oohs and aahs of copulation. It was more cerebral. Jokingly, I compared it to the mind melding that Mr. Spock had accomplished on an episode of Star Trek. I truly felt that we had a connection that went beyond anything physicality had to offer.
Me, being the more spiritual, had a name for it readily. We were soul mates. There could be no other explanation. I have to admit, even though I could name it, it didnít mean that I easily accepted it. Many times it scared me. It was as if choice were taken away. It was to be no matter what reasons we could come up with for it not to be. This took much longer for him to understand. I would hint at it on occasion, even say it outright on others, and he would agree. But then when we were not in contact, his mind would convince him otherwise. He would try to avoid me, and Iíd let him. Heíd discuss other liaisons to evoke jealousy, and Iíd never feel jealous. It was a silly emotion that I refused to succumb to, because I knew what our destiny was. We were soul mates. I knew instinctively that if he drifted away, he would always come back, his need for me would demand it, and I was right. Eventually, he accepted it as well
When a person is forced to change a basic belief or viewpoint, the brain undergoes a series of nervous sensations equivalent to the most agonizing torture. -Unknown
The relationship progressed, at times against our will. There had to be a phone call. I was anxious to hear his voice. I’ll never know if it was just the novelty of the call or if it truly was his voice that shook me to the core. But during the conversation I began to have sensations that I had never felt before. It went beyond simple excitement. His voice whispered his wants and needs, and I was reminded of an Indian warrior whispering in a horseís ear and being capable of getting the horse to do what none other had before. He whispered gentle words, words that weren’t new, but when spoken by him, seemed innovative and original.
Words like “I need to touch you” and “I want to be inside you” were hushed tones of yearning dripping over my body, arousing every part of me. It was as if I were awakened for the first time from a lifetime of sleep. My body had lain dormant, waiting for the kiss of his voice. Its uniqueness unlocked the mystery of how to react.
Excitement had, up until now, been cultivated mostly in my sex organs. For the first time I knew what it was like to be completely on fire. My skin prickled with want. As he spoke, the flush that moved up my body was his hands manipulating me, heating me, until my desire burst into flames licking at my core. I can’t remember now what he said – I’m not even sure I knew then. It didn’t matter. It was the resonance of his voice. He was the conductor of electricity and I was the receptor.
The call ended. And I knew it was only the beginning.
It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is over-ruled by fate. -Marlowe
The game continued the same for a while, hours of online talking peppered with occasional phone calls. I would have moments of complete clarity that we were destined to be together, an omnipotent knowing that one could not exist without the other. I would also have moments of doubt, or possible refusal to believe that an obsession such as ours could possibly survive. How could any relationship endure the vulnerability that came with complete exposure? We shared our worst secrets and our most sinister desires, leaving our souls open like festering wounds. At times it was idyllic, because somebody finally knew the very deepest, darkest side of you, and still loved you. At other times it was torture because we were cemented in that darkness and could not rise above it.
The time came when online conversations and sporadic phone calls were not enough. We needed to be together. It wasnít a conventional yearning – it was a pathological need. Nothing or no one would get in the way. Not his wife. Not my husband. They were mere spouses. We, on the other hand, were soul mates. In fact, we had even stopped thinking of ourselves as two people, but rather, one person that had been torn in two. The blood that coursed through our veins was the embodiment of one other, the life force that kept our hearts beating.
We set up a meeting that would last over a weekend, three days and two full nights, alone. Soul mates locked in a room, hidden away from the world, ready to explore what it would be like to find the other part of ourselves.
In the time leading up to our weekend, we gorged ourselves on fantasies of complete decadence. I knew his need to be free of inhibitions, to lay leisurely nude at all times. He knew my desire to experience violence in a tempered way. We discussed sex in every possible detail. There was to be no orifice unexplored on either of us, no body part that wouldnít be attended to in every promising way. And finally, there was to be no food until every other appetite had been satiated first. We would feast off each other.
Intense /intens/ adj. 1. Existing in high degree; violent; forceful. 2. Very emotional. 3. (Of a feeling, etc.) Extreme
When the time came and I was en route to our meeting place, I had twinges of guilt over the hurt I might cause if we were discovered, but they passed easily enough in the fog of sexual anticipation. I rationalized that any hurt could be overcome, whereas the thought of refusing my destiny would be death itself.
He was in the lobby when I arrived. I recognized him, not from any picture, but from the hunger in his eyes that matched my own. I suspected there might be a momentary awkwardness in the beginning, but I was wrong. He rushed toward me, in unrestrained enthusiasm, grabbing me into his arms, and squeezing until my breath was nearly gone. I was dizzy with lust. Our mouths met in searing communion, kissing and tonguing until saliva was gone. Our hands groped and explored in our thirst for familiarity. We were a spectacle in the lobby, but we didnít care. Nothing would stand in the way of fate, not our spouses, not our existing lives, and not appalled onlookers who were witnessing our ecstasy.
It was our need to be naked that finally forced us apart. He had already checked in, so he took my hand and pulled me to the elevator. When the door to the elevator closed, he didnít wait. He ripped open my blouse, sending buttons pinging off the mirrored walls. My chest rose with accelerated breathing. A slender man I hadnít noticed stood in the corner, grasping the handrail, watching. His eyes widened, his mouth flopped open. He hugged the rail, terrified of the maelstrom that was us. We ignored him. At first!
Again our bodies flung together, tearing at limbs and sucking at skin. The force of our union knocked me off balance and I stumbled back against the man in the corner. I purposely grabbed at his crotch to steady myself. It was, after all, my weekend of debauchery. His penis was erect and I announced it aloud as the door opened at one of the floors. The man dashed out the door, in a flurry of expletives. And we laughed.
We tumbled into our room, not even attempting to get to the bed. He roughly pushed me against the wall and my head flew back, temporarily dazing me. His hands were on me then, callously squeezing my flesh. I feigned resistance. He was potent, much more than I could have imagined, possibly fueled by our months of teasing. He reached between my breasts, grabbing my bra, and jerked until the elastic snapped at my back. My breasts popped free and his mouth immediately clamped down on a hardened nipple. He lapped, he sucked, he bit, and I screamed. Nothing had ever felt so intense. I couldnít get enough.
I clutched his head and rammed my tit into his mouth. He greedily took it. It hurt. It hurt so good that my legs weakened and I nearly collapsed. He lifted me then, with physically powerful arms, and tossed me on the bed. He tugged at my pants furiously until I was free of them. With brute strength he snatched my panties and ripped them at the crotch. I had never been wetter.
He slapped at my thighs to open me further, and I avariciously complied. My labia popped open and my clitoris tingled from the rush of room air. Sweat beaded on his upper lip as he gawked at my cunt with feral eyes. He yanked down his zipper. He didnít take time to completely undress before he lunged between my legs. With cock in hand, he aimed for my hole. He poked at it once before ramming inside. He wedged all the way in, filling me from side to side, expanding as he shoved. I thought he would split me in two, and I begged for more.
He found a rhythm of in and out, slapping against my pubis. My body screamed for release: his body heard and responded. In that moment, in those seconds of holding, right before tumbling into the abyss, I understood what it was like to connect beyond this world. Our souls met on an outer plane, fusing for one brief solitary moment in perfect accord before crashing back into separate beings and surrendering to orgasm.
Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. -Unknown
I scrambled for breath, my chest felt compressed. I startled awake to find him still on top of me. I didnít remember falling asleep. His semi-erect penis stirred inside of me. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, smiling. His lips found mine in a sweet, gentle kiss. Again and again. Just lips, soft and malleable, gliding together in a slow waltz.
As he rose up on his arms, every epithelial cell clung together, like putty on paper, before finally separating. We didnít speak, at least not vocally. Our bodies communicated in a language all their own. When he began to stroke this time, it was easy, tender strokes, gingerly slipping in, slowing pulling out. Membrane to membrane, sliding together, slippery and wet. He let his arms give way and our bodies mashed together, chest to breast, stomach to belly, genitals aligned.
He caressed my face with fingers and tongue and whispered my name over and over. His mouth covered mine and his tongue slipped inside, teasing the under-lip, across the gum. Our climax snuck up on us, pleasantly surprising us with quiet strength.
And this is what it was like the entire three days and two nights: a stretch of very physical sex, followed by gentle, easy lovemaking. The weekend passed quickly. Too quickly!
There would be no goodbyes. We understood what it meant now. We were soul mates. We would always be together, no matter what the cost, no matter what it took. When we parted ways, it was only a temporary thing, a minor glitch in the continuum of our destiny. We would go back to our lives, back to previous commitments, back to scheduled meetings, and eke out an existence, until time gave us a path to one another again. The explosion of carnality would have to simmer, feeding off online encounters, but only for a short time, until preparations could be made.
I have leftover feelings that encourage me to want to try absolutely anything with you. No matter what the cost to my morality or my soul.... Sidney Madwed:
Monday, as I waited comfortably for his name to come online, I had a moment of pain, of total separation, and my heart ached. I anxiously wanted to see him to remember with him our time in each otherís arms.
One hour turned into another hour, and another, and another. One day turned into another day, and another, and another. I still waited. I went from surprise to denial to anger and, finally, to despair. I hurried off email after email, begging for some response. None ever came.
I had been duped. There could be no other explanation. I had fallen victim to one of the hundreds of men online that preyed on the weak and the foolish. I was embarrassed to be one of them.
I searched my memory for clues. Things he might have said online, something he might have done in that heavenly weekend that I could have missed. There had to be a warning sign. I could think of none. I believed in my heart that he loved me. I knew in my soul we were one.
The answer came by way of two letters at the end of a month of waiting, delivered registered mail via the United States Postal Service.
My Dearest Love,
I have no doubt that we are soul mates. I know it with every fiber of my being. The challenge now is for you to remember it. You must believe it without wavering. I can exist only in you now. If youíre reading this letter it means I have died. We have to wait until the next time our souls journey together in the same lifetime. I am forever yours.
And the second...
Dear Ms. Smith,
We regretfully inform you that Mr. Jack Thompson passed away on Monday, October 15. Sadly, he was hit by a car upon leaving our office. We were instructed to deliver the enclosed letter to you upon his death. Pursuant to his will, all his earthly possessions have been bequeathed to his wife and child. He further stated that his most valued possession has already been delivered to you, for your safekeeping.
Sincerely, John Baker
Baker, Baker & Stowe Attorneys at Law
Copyright © 2001 by Desdmona.