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A Love Seen

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She had seen it before of course. Actually several times. He didn't seem to know or be able to sense when he was tipsy or asleep, but sometimes, she had peeked. The first time had been purely accidental of course, but sometimes, when his mind was calm and simply open to her, she would lie in bed beside Phil, cold and lonely, and feel Dylan. His half-asleep breath, talking absently, his warm pleasant smell filling her consciousness. Occasionally she had caught him...just touching, really. Full masturbation would always be private and blocked out but sometimes as he had idly toyed with himself, she had been aware of it.

It had been a little smaller than Phil's, from what she had been able to deduce, and shockingly, uncircumcised. She'd wondered what her husband might have said, but reminded herself that as a doctor, he probably wouldn't have batted an eye.

Once in a great long while, she had been curious. Just curious, she had told herself, and slipped in a little glimpse of what lay there. Later, again just curious, she had wondered what Dylan might have felt in her hand, or mouth, or even lower, and inside. All just idle curiosity of course.

It was interesting too, the sensation of knowing that Dylan was mildly aroused once in awhile, like when he had first seen her. Why hadn't she at least closed her robe? A tiny stirring not totally unlike her own normal arousal had ruffled to life, but it had been even lower. Oh, she understood. Suddenly, there had been a small instinctual part of her that was also thrilled. She got a little wet and prayed he wouldn't notice.

And now she was thinking about it again



She hadn't meant this to go any further than a little touching, for comfort, but now that she had memorized the strong lines of his face, smooth chest, and muscular arms, she knew she had to give and ask for more.

His hand. She was clutching his hand in their minds. So warm, callused from work, familiar (despite never having met him), and intimate. She could feel herself touching him too, stroking the small, hard nipples and the definition of muscle and bone at his hip.

It was now his hands, which she had memorized, moving over the slope of her breast and down her ribs. He was asking. She would give, gladly, but not just yet. She glanced down at the foot of the bed where the mirror was visible. She focused on it so he would see her there in bed, and gently spread her smooth legs just a little. His mouth watered a little. There was also that familiar feeling of arousal present, double for the two of them. It was acute and almost painful. Her own organs seemed to warm and grow wet in response. They had explored much now, and pretty much all that remained was what she was most afraid to share and accept in return.

“Whatever you want, Becca,” she heard him say, “We don't have to go any further.” The voice in her mind was gentle and full of kindness, patience, and affection.

She removed her bra.

He sucked in his breath audibly. Now he was looking at her breasts in the mirror as she sat up.

“Beautiful. An angel,” he whispered. He let out a shattered moan as her hands closed around the mounds now and shared her hard pink nipples with him.


What could he give? Anything he thought about kept ending up with his dick and that was sure to scare her with her tiny little body and skittish manner. I'm so selfish, he thought, but he kept moving closer and closer and she seemed more and more into it. If her sighs and gestures were being read right, he was seeing nothing but green lights.

It hurt. Dylan couldn't remember when he had wanted a woman as badly. Not even Donna. Finally, he gave in. His hand slid down his firm belly and slipped under both sweats and briefs. He lingered in his soft brown curls for a moment to let her protest but all she did was whisper, “Please,” and then he reached lower and gripped himself firmly.


Becca was suddenly shocked. His member, hard, was huge and hot, even in his hand which was much larger than her own. He gripped the root, nestled in his warm hair, and then slowly began to stroke up toward the tip. It kept going! She had estimated it must have been about six inches or maybe a hair more, before the head, beneath its soft spongy skin. As he stroked it, it pulled back and the shiny, firm, smooth tip was naked. His thumb slipped over the hole at the end and she gasped at the thick sticky fluid that gathered there. He slicked it over the skin and began to stroke up and down very slowly.

“Please show me.”


Dylan froze. Really? But she was insistent and sighing in his mind as she touched her own core through her warm lace-trimmed lingerie. Very slowly, he drew down the barrier of his clothes and looked down. He sensed a great pause and got antsy for a split second before she murmured, “Beautiful. I've never said that about a...a....ever before.”

“You like it better than my face, apparently?” He joked nervously.

“No, Dylan. It's beautiful, but I love your face.” Her voice laughed in his mind. He was just settling down when she continued. “Dylan, can you feel me?”

“Oh....yes...” It came out as a hiss as her fingers slid beneath her panties and over the dusting of hair. He savored it as she stroked the hard nub and slid slick fluid over the hood of nerves there.

His hand slipped his foreskin back, also spreading its liquid, thick like honey.

Together they worked now, both laboring for full release of their own and that of the other. “I don't know if I can hold it,” he grunted after a few minutes, “It's been a long time,” he added, when he sensed some humor in her answering voice.

“It's okay Dyl...let me feel it.”

There was an eruption in her mind. She heard him roar with pleasure, felt his sac squeeze close to his body. There was a tightening and a rush and suddenly, a release. She watched now through his eyes as he forced himself to see, for her, as hot ropes of white fluid explode from the pulsing, ruddy tip of his penis, and wished it could be inside her now as she squeezed him dry.

And yet he was suddenly with her as she came too, present enough to experience the flood of sweet, hot, liquid heat run from her with hard convulsions of her womb and a pulsating of her clitoris. He could not know what she visualized, but could liken the experience to a star exploding behind his eyelids. They called each others names in their respective seats of pleasure, and it was as if together, they had done this.

Without once touching, they had drawn a union between them and consummated it. They were one.