Internet Lovers Meet In NYC

The wind is blowing intermittently on the windows of the cab as wave after wave of rain assaults the city. The late autumnal rainstorm mercilessly beats passersby with a fury that only an October wind in New York can. It is no small amount of hesitation and reluctance that creeps into your stomach like an icy drink as you near your destination. Not only must you brave the elements, but the uncertainty of what the night holds for you taunts you as well.

With a sigh, another false front of bravery you open the door and your umbrella, scurry across the sidewalk and cross an invisible boundary of the building. The numbness in your stomach returns, your eyes widen, and as you enter the building's lobby your mind returns once again to anxious uncertainty.

Head held high you walk confidently towards the elevator, a myriad of questions running through your mind all at once. Can love be found first by the heart and only afterwards by the eye? Can you love someone you've never held? Miss someone you've never seen? How else can you explain the persistent flutter in your heart, or the sleepless moments lying all alone in your bed at night wondering about moments such as these?

Without warning, the elevator doors open and you turn down the hall, seeing the door behind which rests your fate for the evening, and perhaps longer. You walk quietly, tentatively down the hall to the door, counting the apartment numbers softly to yourself as you pass. When your eyes can begin to discern the number you've written down, and imagined these many weeks and months, you pause.

Breaths become shallow, and you raise your hand to knock on the door, and then stop just before your fingers rap. You lean forward to listen. Hearing nothing you frown slightly, then knock. You hear footsteps and then…the door swings open and you're suddenly confronted with what you've imagined for months.

"Hello, come in," he says to you as he ushers you inside. You spend several moments just looking at him, soaking in the details of his face, smile, eyes, and forehead. You hardly notice he is doing the same with you.

After sitting on his couch, listening to Frank Sinatra's soft voice float across the room in counterpoint to the still cascading rains the world seems without blemish. Just a few moments into your conversation you realize three hours have passed, two bottles of Merlot have been drank and there is no place better to be in all of the world.

Throughout this entire evening, I've been drinking you with my eyes, enamored by your beauty and captivated by your smile. I have imagined these moments endlessly, our first meeting, smile, and hearty laugh. No matter how many times I have dreamt or thought of this moment, and innumerable times I have in fact, the reality of it is just so unexpected, so utterly indescribable.

As I've steadily moved closer to you, and am now sitting across from you on the couch I gaze into your eyes deeply, so much so that indeed you often wonder if I'm listening to a word that you're saying. You frequently ask me questions to make certain I'm paying attention, and indeed, I am. Admittedly though, not just to your words.

I slowly lean my head towards yours and I can't wait any longer. Mid sentence you pause, smile and close your eyes – after first checking to see that I already have. Our lips touch and the contact brings with it nearly the force of lightening.

I've kissed before, you've kissed before. But we've never kissed after months of phone conversations, typed words and e-mails. We've never had a kiss after such a lengthy period of trying to get used to someone, getting so close, developing feelings for someone you've never yet laid eyes upon, seen smile and laugh after a good joke.

My tongue enters your mouth as I'm getting drunk from your taste, your scent, just being with you. Hunger builds; desire awakens. My hand reaches up to caress your cheek, your chest rises and falls in a lazy sigh of building excitement. Your cheek feels silky smooth against my hand as it reaches back to intertwine itself in your curly dark-brown, almost black locks.

As I pull you closer to me and lean into you at the same time, effectively nearly laying atop you my other hand playfully rolls down your neck to your shoulder and across your chest. I feel your own hands cupping my hand, caressing my back and I lurch forward kissing you deeply and passionately, reveling in all that is you.

For all the patience and time that was spent in talking, at this moment exists neither patience nor enough time in all the world. Frantically our hands work against and occasionally with those of the other as we rapidly disrobe the other. Against better judgment, I scoop you into my arms carry you down the hall to my bedroom, our lips locked in lust the whole way. (I should clarify that the better judgment was to remain put on the couch.)

Reaching my bedroom, as excited and anxious as any teen on prom night, I lay you down gently and look at your beautiful figure, your stunning self. As I kneel down beside you, I feel your lips upon my neck, and I lay back on the bed, on my back as your kisses rain down softly on my neck as a flash of lightening illuminates the room, reminding us of the rain softly falling outside.

As your lips continue moving down my body, you twist yourself allowing me to begin kissing your legs. Instantly my hands start to knead your legs, my lips hungrily attacking them and my hands reach up for you. Your lips begin nibbling on my bellybutton, as I find your wetness with my hand, and cup it gently. Your intake of air is sudden, and violent. I run my fingers up and down alongside of you, rolling my fingers as I do so, using my other hand to pull you into position.

I reach up with my tongue and plant my first of many kisses along your inner thighs. As I use my tongue to explore you, you grasp me suddenly in your hand and with a gentle, yet firm squeeze of your hand and terrifically soft kiss you begin to completely shatter my previous impressions of what was enjoyable in this world.

With my thousands of kisses, licks, sucks and strokes of my fingers I have my eyes closed in sheer enjoyment of your taste and softness; as incredible as that feeling is, your own kissing, sucking and licking already have my hips moving in time with your mouth. I pull my head from between your legs and slowly lay you on your back as I climb atop you.

My mouth begins sucking on your neck, chin and lips as my hands reach for you and yours for me. I enter you slowly and together we steadily increase both pace and force of our movements…

I awake to the sun peeking from behind a cloud, and as the powerful light burns through my squinted eyes I turn to see you lying beside me, still yet asleep and I smile and sigh softly. I look down, see red lines from your fingers on my chest and legs, my hand prints faintly on your legs, and laugh quietly to myself as I fall back asleep, the most content and happy man in New York. What will today bring, between you and I. The real story is in living it, not in writing it, as many lamenting writers can tell you.