Discussion: Online Chatting – New Sex Stories – erotica

Beep Stories

Where you will go, I will go and where you will live, I’ll live. Your people will be my people and your ELOHIM, will be my ELOHIM. Where you will die, I will die and where you will be buried, I will be buried. May the LORD deal with me, be it ever so severely if anything but death separates me from you.’ – Ruth 1:16-17


Long before I met my husband, my life looked very different to what it is today. I longed for many years to be a missionary, and I knew that the LORD had placed something inside of me, a belief so strong in HIM that I knew it was my duty to share the love of Christ with others.

But for many years, I lived like a recluse. I suffered with depression from a very early age, which went undiagnosed for many years. I had an absent biological mother (though not absent in body, but absent in love, affection and guidance.) I had a biological family who stood by and watched me be physically and emotionally abused by my biological mother for years, but they never came to my rescue.

But the LORD gave me my maternal grandparents, who were only in my life for a very short period of time. These two precious people prayed for me, and it was my grandfather who taught me the art of having a prayer corner, a valuable tool that I will carry for the rest of my life.

After they died, within in a few days of each other, my agoraphobia became worse, and in sheer desperation and innocence, I prayed for five years for my grandparents toe back.

Then, in my very early 20s, I discovered online chatting. A whole new world opened up for me, an online forum where I could talk, ask and discuss anything and everything under the sun without feeling any shame or guilt. On Christian chat sites particularly, my views on “controversial” issues—like the catching away of the saints spoken of in Matthew 24 or my interpretation of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians and how I understood it—didn’t always go down well. You might derive from this that I do believe the Church will go through a time of tribulation, and although I’vee across many missionaries through the years who hold a different viewpoint, my answer has always been, “Let’s agree to disagree, but let’s keep the main thing, the main thing. JESUS is the Way, the Truth and the Life and no onees to FATHER except through HIM!”

But sometimes on these online chat sites you’d find gems of people: lonely people, happy people, people with strong opinions and, as in life, some not so nice people.

I found myself gravitating to chatting to older men and women, people who were or are my seniors, people not afraid or ashamed to share (as I said before) anything and everything. Older women, especially, would talk about being divorced or losing their husbands to death whilst still being in the prime of their sexual desires. I’d love listening to their stories of how masturbation was afort to them, but at the age of 60 or above, they still longed to share their beds with a partner. Their conversations enticed me, and I often wondered if I’d still have these sexual desires if and when I reached my 70s.

One woman in particular—a Pom , as my husband would say—shared very openly about an experience she had with a man she met at a Church bingo evening. She was 65, he was a little older, and they caught each other’s eye on a particularly cold evening. They got chatting, and she bravely asked him if he’d like toe home with her for a cupper. He obliged and off they went. She spoke of the conversation being easy, delightful and pleasant until the older gentleman reached across and kissed her. She explained how she suddenly felt alive after being a widow and an empty nester for many years. She kissed him back, and she felt her body begin to rise, as it were. Without much further talking she led him up the staircase, into the bedroom and they made love.

Now as believers, we’re not meant to have sexual relations outside of marriage, but I have to admit that I did feel a sense of happiness for this woman. Despite my concerns over the circumstances, I felt her arousal take over my own body, and I masturbated to her story.

After this initial conversation, I enjoyed talking to this woman about her faith, her children, her grandchildren, and her blossoming relationship with the older stranger who started attending her church after their first meeting.

And as the years went by, I found several women like my online British friend, who found themselves single at 60 years and over but still desiring to have a sexual relationship. And I loved reading and asking about their stories and knowing that an older woman could still feel that way about intimacy.

Fast forward, to meeting my husband, me being a missionary in Africa and him being the missionary from the other side of the world. Our meeting happened as we were both in search of something, both of us not knowing exactly what that something was.

My husband brought me back to the heart of worship, and I shared (or rather tried to shape his thinking) on the Second Coming of Christ. Safe to say he had his own opinions, and he wasn’t afraid to put up a friendly fight. I loved our conversations, and he shared everything with me, and I with him—or so he thought. My online history remained buried inside of me, and I thought I could never share that part of my past with my husband.

Until one day, we were on separate assignments across the world, and Timothy asked me straight out if I’ve chatted online. I knew Timothy was prompted by the Holy Spirit, and I had no choice but toe clean. I had to explain to him about my conversations with older women (and sometimes older men), the content of those conversations, and how they made me feel.

Timothy couldn’t accept that part of me, and I believed this would cause a permanent dent in our marriage. It was very difficult being oceans apart and trying to explain to my husband via text and skype calls that it was all innocent.

My husband’s homing was a tentative one for me. I looked at Timothy that evening, knowing we wouldn’t spend our first evening back together making love, but that our conversation for the evening already had a topic.

I remember seeing a very tired looking Timothy, perfectly dressed in a blue shirt and a brown leather jacket. I was happy to be back together again, but inside, fear gripped me.

We sat down on our couch, and the conversation immediately turned to my online past. Timothy asked questions, and I answered as honestly as I could, knowing it was best to tell him everything. We went upstairs, and we did make love that evening. Timothy needed morefort than usual, and I knew I was the only one who could give that to him. As we settled back into our life together, my online past would often timese up in conversation. Everytime it did, I would cringe.

As time went on, Timothy’s questions became gentler, and it became easier for me to answer. Our conversations about my online past brought almost a new feeling of arousal to our love making, and it brought us closer. Timothy asked more and more questions, and our love making became stronger and more intense than before. Timothy asked me if I ever had desires to chat to online women again. My answer was no, and that was the absolute truth. Timothy reassured me that, although he accepted that part of my past, he wanted me to be honest with him if I missed it or not. A part of me did miss having those conversations with older women, and as one of my later therapists explained, that could stem from not having a close relationship with my biological mother and growing up not knowing to this day who my biological father is or was.

So you might be asking, why am I sharing this part of my past with my MarriageHeatmunity? I guess now that Timothy accepted that part of my past, I wondered if other women went through the same thing? Are there men and women out there who also found sexual pleasure andfort from hearing/reading strangers’ stories about intimacy in later life and, ultimately, did it cause a sense of arousal to the point of masturbation?

I’d love to hear your opinions and thoughts. As always, the rest is still unwritten…