Monk29:
Only if the woman in front of me wants it.
SilverDust:
I want…
I wish we weren’t just pixels.
Monk29:
Say the word, and I’ll be more than that.
SilverDust:
Not yet.
Let me want it a little longer. Want you a little longer… like this.
Monk29:
I can wait.
Anticipation is the first touch.
SilverDust:
You’re dangerous.
Monk29:
Only for the one I want.
SilverDust:
And right now…?
Monk29:
Still you. Only you.
Whispers in the Chatroom – Part 5: The Slow Burn
[Private Chatroom: SilverDust & Monk29 — Night Eleven, 1:39 AM]
SilverDust:
I’ve been thinking about our last chat all day.
Monk29:
That’s either a good thing… or a dangerous one.
SilverDust:
Both.
You stirred something in me. The way you talk… it’s not just words.
It feels like you’re touching me without laying a finger.
Monk29:
That’s the only way I know how. With presence, not pressure.
SilverDust:
That line alone just made me exhale too deeply.
Monk29:
Tell me. What part of our last conversation stayed with you?
SilverDust:
The way you said sex is like writing a story together.
I kept replaying that.
I’ve never had anyone say something that… tender and erotic at the same time.
Monk29:
That’s how I see it. It should be slow. Detailed. Personal.
Hands reading skin like pages. Eyes asking permission before they devour.
Breaths syncing like punctuation.
SilverDust:
God. I’m actually warm reading that.
No one ever made me think of sex like that before.
For me, it’s always been rushed… like a checklist. Not a connection.
Monk29:
Tell me something, honestly…
Have you ever completely let go with someone? I mean, trusted someone with your body fully?
SilverDust:
No. Not even close.
I’ve faked confidence. Moaned at the right time. Moved the right way.
But deep down? I always held back. Afraid of being too much… or not enough.
Monk29:
That breaks my heart a little.
Because I imagine you — confident, curious, needing to be unwrapped slowly.
You deserve someone who lingers. Someone who learns your body like it’s holy.
SilverDust:
Stop.
Or I’ll want that too much.
Monk29:
What if I want you to want it?
SilverDust:
I’m not used to this.
Being desired intellectually, not just physically. It’s messing with my head.
Monk29:
And what’s your body saying right now?
SilverDust:
That it hates we’re only pixels apart.
That it’s imagining your fingers tracing the same lines your words do.
Monk29:
Tell me what you imagine.
SilverDust:
You sitting behind me. Not touching. Just close.
Your voice in my ear. Low. Calm.
Saying the things you’ve only typed so far.
Monk29:
And when I do touch?
SilverDust:
Slowly. Like you’re asking, not assuming.
Fingertips at the base of my neck… moving like thought, not demand.
Breath syncing. Skin reacting. No rush. Just… knowing.
Monk29:
That image.
I can feel it.
And now I’m imagining your head tilted back against me, lips parted but no words… just trust.
SilverDust:
I just shivered.
Monk29:
Me too.
This isn’t just chat. This is… touch without hands.
SilverDust:
I didn’t think pixels could make me ache.
Monk29:
That’s because you haven’t met the right fingers… or the right imagination.