Starry Starry Night

STARRY STARRY NIGHT

I fell for Vincent over a game of Scrabble just under two years ago. I’ve never used chat rooms or personals; you hear such a lot of nasty tales about those and as a forty-five-year-old woman alone I didn’t need any hassle. But, to be able to play my favourite word game on the internet with people from all over the world was a dream come true. The thought never crossed my mind that you could strike up a loving relationship with someone that way. Not until Vincent came along.

From the beginning I was captivated by his intelligence, wit and charm and I found myself thinking about him more often than I should and in ways that I shouldn’t. It was obvious he was interested in me but maybe he was like that with every woman he played. What did I know? I was a newcomer to this strange world - a Cyber virgin. But I was pulled in before I knew it and the more we played, the more we flirted. It worried me at times that we knew so little about each other and that he might be some teenager imagining that I was a young beauty. I consoled myself that he was on the other side of the Atlantic so it didn’t really matter, but as our relationship deepened and became more intimate it did start to matter a lot. I was not in the habit of deceiving or hurting people. Eventually I plucked up the courage to tell him my age and was relieved when he told me he was forty-nine. He lied.

Our games were always very close; we were well matched intellectually and I never tired of him as my opponent. During one game he asked me what my ambition in life was. I replied, ‘to have great sex before I die;’ something I would never have admitted to anyone face to face but typing into an inanimate object inspired me with a confidence I didn’t really possess.

‘Then you’ve come to the right man. Take all your clothes off,’ he quickly typed back.

‘LOL. You mean you’re not going to wine and dine me first?’

‘Nope. Waste of time, energy and money.’

How I loved the way he made me laugh. But I was also very aware of strange stirrings inside that went much deeper. It seemed I was sexually attracted to a man I had never seen; something I would not have thought possible. I was learning that the mind has as much to do with sexual desire as the body. After a while curiosity raised it’s head and Vincent asked if I would send him a photograph of myself. I argued that I was bald, weighed fifty stone and only had one eye but he just said that sounded like a description of his ideal woman. The picture was dispatched to him that evening; I awaited his verdict and asked for his photo in return.

The following morning I received an e-mail from him which read,
‘You are extremely beautiful, as I knew you would be. I need some time alone to contemplate whether I should tell you the truth about myself. I hope you understand.’

For days I worried what the problem could be. Was he handicapped, vertically challenged or just plain ugly? Not that it really mattered; we had agreed months beforehand that our relationship would remain fantasy only. When he finally came online he told me he had lied about his age. Somewhat relieved, I braced myself, expecting to discover that I had been swept off my feet by a man younger than my own son.

“Come on then, hit me with it.’ I waited, my heart pounding for a reason I couldn’t fathom. It didn’t matter surely.

‘I’m sixty, still want my picture?’

‘Of course, Daddy,’ I joked.

Though shaken, I was full of admiration for his honesty. He could easily have sent me a photo of himself when younger or even one of someone else but now it seemed he respected and cared for me enough to want me to know the real Vincent. There would be no more lies.

The photograph arrived on my computer the following day. I admit to being a little disappointed; Vincent was nothing like I’d imagined. Tall and dark admittedly; but not handsome in the classical sense and obviously carrying too much weight. But, his smile was beautiful and lit up his very sincere brown eyes. There was no way I wanted our relationship to end; we were Scrabble partners and great friends, nothing else mattered.

Over the next few months Vincent and I played and chatted more and more. We grew closer and discussed everything without inhibitions. I confided in him that my sexual experiences had never left me feeling satisfied or elated and that I had never had an orgasm during sexual intercourse; I had reached the conclusion it was physically impossible except in steamy novels and films. He would patiently and sweetly describe how he would change this situation; how he would arouse me, make love to me and would ask about my reactions and how I would respond to him. The barriers were down

Strangely, despite being aware he was no pin up I found myself more and more sexually drawn to him. Every time he came online I was immediately aroused; he excited me in a way no man had ever done before. Each night I lay in bed imagining making love with him and then sleeping in his arms. My erotic dreams no longer centred on famous heartthrobs but focused always on this elderly, overweight stranger. As each day dawned my waking thoughts were always occupied by him.

Vincent owned a motor home and spent some of the winter in Florida. Not wanting to be parted we exchanged addresses and our communication became something more real; personal letters sent by snail mail to hold and treasure. My notes sprayed with the perfume I always wore; his with his favourite cologne flew across the pond on a regular basis ensuring our relationship was kept alive, strengthened even. More photographs and gifts were exchanged, adding further depth and meaning to this strange coupling. In this case, absence certainly did make the heart grow fonder. Although I missed his online company a great deal, this communication was a great comfort and to read his handwritten, loving words moved me more than I can describe. He told me that he slept at the top of the motor home and could gaze at the sky from there. He described how he lay awake at night, kissing my photographs and imagining making love under the stars, then falling asleep in my arms. The view from my bedroom was nowhere near as romantic but my sentiments were identical.

We were happily reunited in Cyberspace on his return and the relationship went from strength to strength. Where it would lead we did not question and I could not even contemplate an end to it. He told me he wanted me to find a man who would satisfy my longing and make me happy but in truth I could only think of him. We seemed by now to be able to read each other’s thoughts, sense each other’s needs and although we had never met I felt we knew every contour of the other’s body. The months flew by; another Christmas was soon on the horizon.

I always take a holiday with a few friends shortly after the New Year when England is at it’s dreariest. I leave the booking to them as I’m not particular about the destination providing I’m guaranteed some sunshine. Imagine my surprise when they informed me they had booked this year for Florida; I had told them nothing of my relationship with Vincent and so concluded fate must be responsible. Vincent was already there, sleeping under the stars, but this year we had grown so close that we could not bear to be parted and he had taken his computer with him. The line he had rented had also enabled us to talk on the telephone; nerve wracking to start with but another step closer to reality. I had immediately fallen in love with his infectious laugh and American accent. I told him of my forthcoming trip; despite our resolve that this would remain a fantasy only relationship we agreed it was too good an opportunity to miss.



As I stepped out of the Florida sunshine into the crowded airport lounge my emotions were in turmoil. But when I saw that now familiar smile and those twinkling eyes my doubts evaporated instantly. He took my hand and kissed each finger tenderly. His lips brushed mine, the familiar aroma of his cologne sent my senses reeling, and I knew, in that moment that we would become lovers that night.

I was wrong. We could not wait until darkness fell. Almost before the door of the motor home was closed we were in each other’s arms.

“Can we make love, now?” he asked.

“You mean, you’re not going to wine and dine me first?”

“Nope. Waste of time, energy and money.”

Smiling, we held each other as we kissed for the very first time. Light feathery kisses, exploring every inch of each other’s faces until our lips met. This is what I had been craving; the warmth of his lips on mine, the sensual dance of his tongue, causing ripples of pleasure to pulse through every part of my anatomy. Months of longing ensured that kiss was something I will never forget and yet it felt so natural, as if we had a lifetime of kissing behind us. The desire was urgent and yet we undressed each other almost in slow motion. I massaged and kissed his tanned chest as I undid each button; his gentle hands exploring my shoulders, my arms and my breasts as he removed my blouse. I was aroused and ready for him, but this was far too special to rush. The attention Vincent gave to my swollen breasts stirred feelings inside me I never knew existed. As he teased each nipple with his delicious tongue he slowly lowered me to the floor, where we lay, panting and gazing into each other’s eyes. I had never felt so desirable in my whole life and so in need of someone. We kissed again, this time longer and deeper until I felt I would burst with excitement. Vincent lowered his head to my breasts again, my nipples hard and tingling with anticipation. I gently stroked his broad neck, his strong shoulders and trailed my long fingernails carefully down his spine. His breathing was heavy in my ear and he whispered my name, making it sound like the most wonderful word ever spoken. Moving my hands over his sides, stroking and lingering over his soft belly I could no longer resist the urge to seek out his manhood.

His equipment may have been around for a long time but it was certainly in fine working order. His erection was long, thick and smooth and as I felt it pulsing to my touch, my hips began to gyrate involuntarily. My fingers curling softly around his hardness I traced the veins down the shaft, my desire escalating to heights I had never experienced before. His fingers drew lazy circles inside my thighs making me catch my breath. His lips held my mouth captive as he stroked me gently, finding the spot that drove all rational thought from my mind; a maestro playing me to perfection and the crescendo was near.

No words were necessary. Sensing my urgency Vincent gently took control and as we moved in perfect unison, I knew that my dream was about to become reality. He was a wonderful lover, sensitive yet masterful, knowing instinctively when to alter the pace and rhythm. As he thrust deeper inside me, I felt the waves of orgasm stirring deep inside. I looked deeply into his eyes, there was no need to tell him and as I felt his first spasm, my cries of release joined his as my muscles contracted around him. The reality was even more impressive than the fantasy.

We lay quietly in the afterglow, caressing and kissing softly; there was no one and nothing else in my world and I sensed the same deep satisfaction and contentment in him. If someone had told me I would achieve my ambition with such a cuddly man, fifteen years my senior four thousand miles away I would never have believed it. But love and compatibility take no heed of age, distance, size or shape and I was overjoyed that at last, I had found my perfect lover.

He did wine and dine me. He had purchased and prepared all the things I had told him I loved and we ate and drank as we entwined our toes under the table. Love and laughter pervaded the atmosphere of the motor home as if we had filled the chinks in each other’s souls. Later we even managed a game of Scrabble on his computer. But this time, we played a stranger and combined our skills, kissing and fondling between each move. We made a great team but as far as I was concerned there was only one seven letter word that mattered – Vincent. Very late we climbed up to the bed and made love again under the starry sky. It was just as exquisite as the first time, if not more so. Then, at last, I fell asleep in his arms knowing that this time it would be more than just my thoughts he would occupy the following morning.