Sometimes phone sex can produce unexpected results.
An erotic story by Dean Bill
By Dean Bill
She sat in the darkness again. It always seemed better in the darkness. Most women alone at night like to have a light on, like to have sounds going. Make it seem like a family or at least a couple were home, living normally. She liked the darkness though. The silence. Like a silent shadow in the middle of the city. She leaned back into the leather chair, feeling her skin against the glossy animal hide, and spread her legs slightly. Then she dialed the number she promised herself she never would again.
"I'm, um, what number were you calling?"
"You're not alone."
"No. I mean I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Speak up."
"It doesn't matter. I just wanted to tell you I'm naked. I'm holding the phone with my shoulder and running my hands up my thighs."
"There's no one here by that name. Are you sure this is the number you want?"
"Did I tell you last time that I shaved my pussy? It's completely bare. My left hand just brushed along the lips. They feel wet. Shall I lick my fingers now?"
"Yes, yes. That is this number. Perhaps you got the name wrong?"
"Ohhhh. I'm rubbing the wetness on my clit, slowly. Around and around. It's making my knees tremble."
"Look, I'm afraid I can't tie up the phone with trying to help you. My wife's expecting a call to tell her if she has to go out. Her mother's ill."
"I'll call back later."
"So I see. Let me have the telephone."
He watches her fingers dance over the keypad, closes his eyes, and imagines other fingers dancing over skin in the darkness.
"Oh. All right, I'm on my way." He watches her smile quickly at him, then pick up the coat and large carryall. "I'll be back later," he hears her murmer as the door closes.
Now his eyes go to the telephone. She said she'd call back. Said she was naked this time. A pleasant memory came to him and he almost thought he smelled a soft perfume in the air as he sat on the couch. She said last time she was wearing a skirt, but no panties. She said last time she shaved herself and that she could feel the cool air under her clothes, caressing her thighs, her most private places. Now he waited, hardly breathing, for the phone to ring again. He was beyond wondering about it all. What she wanted. Who she was. All that mattered was that voice on the telephone. That intimate whisper she used. The catch in her breathing. Odd little sounds like mewing or squealing that he had never heard before. Why isn't she ringing, he asked himself for the third time.
He waited for twenty minutes. Sometime during it, he had touched his cock as if to quiet it like some unruly pet. And then --- with a a surprise jarring --- it rang.
"Hello. It's me."
"Yes. Yes. I...I hoped it was." He listened carefully to her breathing. It sounded jagged and rushed.
"You're alone now aren't you?"
He nodded to himself and swallowed. "Yes," he whispered.
"I have a friend with me."
"She's very pretty, I think. I'm sitting in the shadow but I can see one of her nipples against my knee."
"What is she doing?"
"Right now? She's running her hand over my belly. And slowly she's moving it down where I shaved."
"Um..she must be a good friend."
"Oh, she is. She loves to lick me...just there, yes. I can feel her hair make my nipples hard when she does that."
"You like it slow and sensual, don't you? It's more intimate that way."
"It is. She loves to tease me. Ummm. But you know how she does it."
"Uh huh. The same way she licks your cock."
"Um hum. Here let me give her the phone."
"Hello?" he asked and heard his wife's breathless voice.
"The same way."
*Courtesy of sauce*box