I don’t know if Milica will be comfortable sharing this bit of hotness with you. She’s very private. She’s also very bold, and very open. And while I’ve got a mounting collection of her audio, we haven’t, yet, discussed whether it would make her wet for me to share some or all of them with you.
In advance of that conversation, though, I thought I’d live-blog this 17 minutes and 29 seconds of hotness.
The context: Three orgasms ago, I asked Milica to narrate, in real time, as she got herself off. I thought I’d been clear that I wanted this by audio, that I wanted her speaking to me throughout – telling me what she was doing, what she was reading, what she was wearing. What she was feeling, thinking….
The first orgasm after this request came with no words – just the orgasm. Super hot. Not what I’d asked for. She tantalizingly teased that, perhaps, with the next one, she would comply with the request.
The next one came while I was driving. A super-hot exchange culminating first in Milica’s coming for me, and then, my pulling over to come to her sounds. In this case, we had a misunderstanding: Milica thought I wanted her to text me the details. They were gestural, minimal: I’m about to start. I have a finger in my cunt. I just came.
I didn’t complain. Fuck that was some serious hotness.
But.
I want what I want, and what I wanted was to hear Milica speaking to me throughout her journey from eager to aching to coming.
And yesterday, in a thirty-minute window Milica granted me, and after sending me some smoking hot photos and video, I received this orgasm. I listened to the first few minutes as I walked to dinner, but I arrived before the going got hot.
So now, starting from scratch, I’m listening. And maybe you will listen, and maybe you won’t. But. Regardless. You may read:
- She begins, talking, about her recent application in response to my “Girlfriend wanted” post
- She reports refreshing and refreshing in advance of my previously announced return time, to find that I had returned to our chat seven minutes earlier than I’d promised. From which she concluded that I “really [was] that eager.” Well, I was that eager, but my early return was a function not just of my eagerness, but also, my unfolding afternoon/evening, which had a number of indeterminate-length events, and a slightly off estimation, on my part, of each of their starts and finishes.
- Her voice is sweet – confident, pleasant, hot.
- For 30 minutes, she’s been touching herself – no pants, panties, a shirt – mostly her nipples. She’s thinking about me touching myself to the porn she’s been sending me.
- First, she says, “I’m just touching myself through my panties.” She’s grinding herself into her hand. Moaning a little. She reports she’s already very wet.
- “This is not gonna take a long time.”
- The moans are increasing. The words are decreasing. “Fuck,” she says, “I’m so wet.” And the moans and sighs are picking up.
- At this point, she received a text from me, as I was looking at the porn she’d sent over the previous couple of hours. “You just said, ‘Oh my. You have knocked the cover off the ball so hard. I’m fucking dying.” She chuckled sweetly, cutely.
- “I’m gonna respond, ‘Good.'” [She did.] “And I’m gonna let you know that I started without you.” She apologized, and said, “I have a feeling that’s not gonna be so nice.” She was wrong. When I’d asked for this particular 30 minutes, I hadn’t conceptualized it as 30 minutes together, but rather, as 30 minutes she would spend as directed. While I was thrilled that we were in real time together, that hadn’t, actually, been my initial concept. Though I hadn’t corrected her when she revealed her understanding.
- A few more moans, and then, “I just moved my panties to the side a little bit. Oh my GOD! I’m so fucking wet! So fucking wet!”
- At this point, I can hear the sloshing. Seriously. Loud. The moans are mounting.
- “Sometimes I’ll put my finger in and move my hips against myself, fuck my finger. It feels so good. I haven’t really touched my clit yet – makes me more needy, more wet.” [I’m shortening for editorial purposes.]
- Moaning, sighing. “But now I’m rubbing my clit and it feels really fucking good. Just slightly. In circles.”
- “It’s hard to talk!” she starts laughing. “I just put a finger back in. So warm and tight.” She spread the wetness around, and gave some more details about moving her fingers, her hips. An increasing number of, “Oh fucks,” and “fucks” and “oh my Gods.”
- We are a third of the way through. I can hear how wet she is, and she’s telling me. The sighs and moans are crowding out the words.
- Her words are becoming a bit less accessible to her as she talks about the writing I’ve told her I’m doing about her.
- “I’m a little too focused on the fact that I have my finger on my clit.” She’s thinking about how much she wants to come, how hard her videos make me, how much I would enjoy if she could help.
- She tells me something I didn’t know explicitly, but “maybe you gleaned this: there’s literally nothing that I love more than sucking cock. It makes me so fucking wet. And it’s so fun for me. And I have not sucked cock in a while and I really really want to.” This surprises me – not her love for sucking cock, but the fact she hasn’t done it in a while. I happen to know she had sex just a few days ago.
- She recalls a blog post in which I describe how much I like face-fucking. “That’s literally my favorite feeling in the world.”
- An extended wordless stretch. She’s rubbing faster, she says. Faster circles. The moans are rising in pitch. The breaths are quickening, shortening. The breaks between them are longer.
- She stops touching herself to respond to a text from me. “You do have a lot to write about!” She adds, “That’s all I can fucking write,” and turns her attention back to her clit.
- [As I write this, I’m pausing to stroke my very, very, very hard cock.]
- Another lengthy wordless stretch, but the moans and sighs are continuing to mount, to move up in pitch, in frequency.
- [As I write this, I just sent her a picture of me gripping my cock in my jeans.]
- We are about halfway through. A little more. Her desperation mounts. The moans start to sound more needy than pleasurable.
- The moisture is LOUD. She reports a text she just sent me: “I said I was touching myself and recording it.” Her pussy sounds like a bird in a birdbath!
- “Now I’m rubbing my clit, pinching my nipple through my shirt. I still didn’t take my panties off – they’re just to the side.” Her words are getting harder to hear, as she’s whispering, slurring, more, and the breathiness is overtaking the vocalizing.
- “I’m thinking about when you told me yesterday that you were listening to my other orgasms in the car and you had to pull over and take care of yourself. That was very very hot. I really like making you feel that way.”
- More moans. More oh fucks. “I think I’m gonna come soon….” The breaths are mounting. The splashing is mounting. “I feel myself getting so tight around my finger.”
- “I’m rubbing my clit really fast now. I’m so wet it’s just slipping around. Oh fuck….. Oh fuck…. I just opened my legs up really wide. Nice and spread out.”
- It’s really hard to overstate how fucking hard my cock is as I listen, as I write.
- “I’m gonna come…..”
- Her breath is sporadic. “Oh fuck. I forgot I was supposed to tell you! Dammit! I’m gonna text you now.” She texted, “I’m going to come.”
- Thirty seconds of mounting breath, quivering sighs, whimpering, oh fucks, “I’m gonna come…..” An extended silence. Fast, panting, sighing, moaning breathing. “OH FUCK!” A couple of times. And then a decrescendo as her breaths return, as she sighs, as she moans with satisfaction.
- “Thank you, N.”
That was one fucking hot way I just spent 17:29! Not to mention the yesterday live back-and-forth. DAMN this woman is fun.