I’ve been waiting. I lean back against the stack of pillows, the light from my cell phone throws odd shadows against the wall.
You tell me you miss me. I miss you too, even though it’s only been hours. By now, you’re on the other side of the state, too far away to turn around and fuck me one last time. I still catch the scent of you, on my pillows, my shirt, I will for days.
You tell me to slide my panties over my thighs, but not to take them off. Am I still wet? It only takes a moment to become wet all over again. I suck my finger and press it to my clit. I hear the cool dry flick of the lighter, the crackle of your cigarette, your slow exhalation. I imagine your smoky white halo, the black leather chair you’re sitting in right now.
I rub myself as you tell me how much you liked fucking me this morning, how hungry I still was for you, even after last night. You didn’t think I’d be up for it, but I was, so raw and bruised but wanting you to fill me up again.
Your voice turns low and hoarse, I know you’re touching yourself now too. I don’t want my own finger in me, I say, I want you, I want your cock, your teeth biting my neck, your hand over my mouth.
I search around in the dark for my vibrator. I hold it up to the phone and switch it on so you can hear what I’m about to do. I love when you tell me how filthy I am, high praise coming from you, dirty boy.
In this moment, physically so far apart, we both shut our eyes. There aren’t any more words, just breath and grunts and the thick, wet sounds of our bodies. Your hand slides up and down your cock as my hand thrusts the vibrator in and out. Our moans are louder, last a little longer, we ache for each other.
Come for me, you breathe, come for me, I whisper. I imagine us rocking together on the bed, my legs wrapped around you, pulling you closer. I imagine your hand swiftly cracking against my ass. I remember the way your cock tasted after you fucked me, the way your fingers tangled in my hair.
I push the vibrator deeper, harder, I don’t hold anything back. I hold the phone near my cunt so you can hear yourself fucking me by proxy. I writhe and cry out, then whimper gently into the phone.
You’ve reached your peak, gruff, grunting noises, the squeak of the chair. It only takes you a few moments more, then you sigh, tired and satisfied. I close my eyes to imagine me next to you one moment longer. I want you again.
Insatiable, you say to me, and I am, but only for you.
2 thoughts on “I answer the phone, knowing it’s you.”
Cell phone light does throw the weirdest shadows against the wall, doesn’t it.
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