Long Distance Pleasure

AUTHORS NOTE: While not a fan of multiple POV, the story concept felt best served by both perspectives. Written for a great fan. You know who you are, B. Enjoy.

*

The chirp of the cell phone pulled her from the edge of sleep. She knew it would be him before she saw his name. "Hey, you," she greeted. "What time is it there?"

"A little after seven." She always had a problem with the east-west time zone thing when he travelled.

"Oh," she replied, glancing at the clock to see I was after ten.

"Sorry for calling so late. We had an early dinner."

"I'm in bed already."

"I figured," he said. "I wanted to talk to you before you fell asleep."

"Are you still out?"

"No, back in my hotel, now," he replied. Hearing her voice sharpened his longing. He'd been gone more than a week already, and he missed her terribly. The nightly phone calls were a pale substitute for personal contact. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," she told him a little sleepily, but with a pang of longing. She sighed. "Only two more days."

"I'm not sure I can hold out," he joked.

"Oh," she grinned. "You miss me THAT way." As she said the words, her yearning returned, despite her efforts at denying it for the last few days. "Well, you should know, so do I."

"M-mm," he said, and leaned back against the headboard, the too many hotel pillows piled behind him, and he relaxed into the bed that was not his own, and allowed his mind to drift, imagining he was with her, in their bed.

In their shared silence she did the same, missing him in the empty place next to her. Her body tingled as she recalled him next to her, his heat, his bulk, the mass and scent of him. "So you're in for the night?"

"Yeah," he said without thought. "Just laying here. Going to bed early for a change."

"Oh, really," she smiled into the phone. "Are you still dressed?"

He smiled at her question, hearing the tease in her. "No," he answered truthfully. "In my boxers."

"And you miss me, huh?"

"Terribly." As he answered, he felt the tent grow in his boxers, a pleasant, urgent request from his body for stimulation and release. When he hung up he knew he would stroke one out, and briefly considered rushing her off the phone to begin his personal ritual.

"I bet you have a boner," she grinned, and her free hand touched her breast through the tee shirt she wore in bed. "You do, don't you?" She took his silence for confirmation. "I wish I was there to take care of it for you."

All thoughts of ending the call vanished. No sense waiting, he thought, and slipped his erection out of the opening, to stand tall in his lap, jutting proud and full and needy. "So do I," he told her. "I can't wait to get home."

"So I can suck your dick?"

"M-mm, you say the nicest things. Yes. I wish you were here to suck my dick with your hot mouth." His hand went to his rod, two fingers gripping under the head, thumb on top, and squeezing a slight pull to the tip. He never used a full hand grip, the three fingers were practiced and fell easily into their routine.

She heard his breath in her ear. "Are you stroking your hard cock for me, thinking about my hot mouth on you?" she whispered into the phone. Imagining him aroused and stiff heightened her own desires, and she felt the pulse inside her, the first throb of blood engorgement between her legs, the beginnings of moistening. She let loose a yummy sound, envisioning his hard member as her free hand snaked under her shirt to her breast, stroking the side, and lightly caressing the nipple. "I'm right with you, baby," she told him across the country. "I'm touching my nipple, I can feel it getting hard. You like when I play with myself when I suck your cock," she stated. She teased the nub, pulling it lightly, twisting a little, feeling the sensations course through her.

In his head he saw her, her head over his lap, her mouth stroking him, one hand at the base and the other tweaking her own nipple, and he squeezed his cock a little tighter, feeling his response meet his arousal. "Oh, yeah, you're so hot for it," he agreed, stroking his cock in tight half- strokes, just his two fingers underneath, and his thumb on top. He felt the sensations as his digits brushed the crown, stroking the sensitive area beneath. "Your mouth is so good on me."

"M-mm, I love to feel your cock in my mouth," she told him. "The smell of your hot flesh, the feel of the heat in my mouth, stroking the thin skin. Tasting you, feeling the firm shaft in my mouth." Her hand left her breast, slipping down into her panties, feeling the juices slip out to greet her fingertips as she stroked her bare lips, spreading them, opening herself. She imagined the fat spongy head filling her mouth, taking him deep because she knows he loves the feel, and arousing him, pleasing him, always got her more excited. Her middle finger slipped up her wet slit to her button, tracing a circle around it. She heard his pleasured moan. "Yeah, baby, stroke that hard cock for me. I'm playing with my pussy while I suck your cock. Fuck..." she trailed off.

"Get your dildo," he croaked in her ear. "The one in the nightstand. Get it; fuck yourself while you suck my cock."

She felt a thrill run through her at his urgent demand, knowing it foretold his desire to have her, hard, the way she liked. She took the phone from her ear and set it on speaker, telling him she was putting the phone down. She reached over and opened the drawer, and her hand easily found the firm toy, the fake flesh tantalizing her fingertips, sending assurances through her of what it would feel like slipping inside her. She pulled her tee shirt off and pushed her panties down her hips to below her knees before settling back into the bed. She raised her knees, spreading her legs in the practiced way she would have done if he were there, wanting to see her open and wet. Over the years she had lost her reluctance to show herself to him, touch herself for him, and she saw him in her imagination, watching her spread herself open. She traced the head of the toy up her lips, parting them, feeling the flesh-like surface spreading her flowing juices.

"M-mm, I love the way that feels on my pussy," she called out to the phone.

Her words throttled his excitement slightly higher, and his excitement turned his next cock stroke from pleasurable to inspiring; that extra sensation you get, not because the stroke was better, or you were harder, but because your brain appreciates it more. He groaned as the sensation ran from his cock up his spine.

"Oh, yeah, honey," he said, using his free hand to switch his phone onto speaker. He put it on the nightstand next to his bed and he gazed at the wall, his eyes seeing nothing, his mind seeing his bedroom, a continent away. His fingers teased the head of his cock, spilling precut from the tip, and the two fingers swirled it on the underside of his cock. "I can see that cock between your legs, stroking your pussy," he said, louder than he would have if he were next to her. "You're so hot, you have to fuck yourself while you suck my dick." He squeezed another drip, smeared it. "My cock is dripping for you, baby, can you taste it?" An urge gripped him, and he silently brought the fingers to his mouth, tasting himself quickly, feeling a thrill at his secret activity.

His words came as she aimed the head of the cock, slicked with her juices, at her eager opening and she slipped it inside, feeling the head open her, spreading her channel wide. She salivated a little, his words creating moisture in her mouth, and she remembered the taste, the sensation of the slick, flavorless hint of his cum, and she sighed out loud. She worked the head back and forth at her opening, bracing herself for the first big fill, her breath halting with anticipation.

"Oh, yeah," she panted, "I love your cock in my mouth, I can taste you." Her free hand went to her crotch, and using her fingers, pulled her lips open and back, exposing her clit. She felt the cool air on her hot button. "Your cock is so big in my mouth; you're so hard. So hot." She felt suddenly free to express her passion, unencumbered by the rod of flesh that would occupy her mouth, and she closed her eyes, imagining as she pushed the toy deep inside her, feeling it fill her. She groaned as the shaft filled her, overwhelmed by the sensation of fullness, of the thick rod going where nothing was, filling the emptiness that had built in her, satisfying the yearning in her wet pussy.

"Oh, yeah, fuck that pussy while you suck my dick," he called, stroking the pre-cum at the top of his cock, feeling the head swell between his digits. "Oh, you horny, sexy slut, fuck that pussy. Suck my cock and fuck yourself hard."

She hadn't waited; she was stroking the toy fully inside, pushing it to the end, feeling the tip press against her limits deep inside, where his actual cock rarely touched. Fingers slick in her juices, she stroked her nub in time with her penetrations, achieving a rhythmic sensation that actual fucking hinted at but never accomplished. In a rush she brought her wet fingers to her lips, something he always wanted her to do, but she still couldn't bring herself to do in front of him. She tasted her arousal on her fingertips, and inhaled sharply.

"Oh, yeah, baby, I'm sucking your cock and fucking myself!"

"Pound it hard, take it the way you like it!"

"Oh, it's so good inside me!"

He quickened his stroke, seeing her in his mind, thrashing on the bed as she would when they fucked, her head back and eyes wide, unseeing, getting her pussy pounded. In his mind he was seeing her hand, driving the shaft into her wetness, harder than he would ever go, knowing her own limits and pushing them for maximum pleasure.

"Oh, that's so hot," he managed, feeling his climax hint at its arrival, and he stalled as a man will, slowing the build, easing the stroke, edging himself closer, dancing on the edge of the cliff. "You like that, having my cock in your mouth and another one in your pussy, don't you?"

His words struck her ears like a thundeclap, and instantly her imagination switched to memory, to a time when they were dating, early on; she had been out without him, and met her former boyfriend and gone to his place, and he had taken her while she sucked his roommate's cock. It was her secret; an unspoken moment of debauchery, and the memory flooded her; instead of imagining her husband now, she was reliving that moment, a cock fucking her pussy, another one, hard and earnest in her mouth as she gave herself over to her urgent passion.

"Oh, fuck, that's so good, oh, fuck, me, fuck me harder," she cried.

"You're gonna make me cum," he grunted, "I'm gonna cum in your hot mouth, fuck, I'm close, I'm close."

"Yes, do it!" she cried, "cum for me, shoot that cum in my mouth, I feel your cock throbbing in my mouth, I feel it starting, oh, do it, cum for me!" she called to her husband, but in her mind she was telling the guy in her mouth, she never knew his name, wanting it, wanting the hot syrupy salty spurts shooting in her mouth, coating her tongue, and she felt her orgasm approach at the promise of his completion. Her hand smashed the toy inside her, as her ex had done that night, overwhelmed by his desire to see her so wild and wanton, to use her, getting himself off as she came on his cock.

"Oh, here it comes, here it comes..."

"Yes! Fuck! Yes! Ah-h..." her words stopped in mid-shriek, and stars filled her eyes, as it had that night; she climaxed, hard, her body frozen in passion, her limbs tight and trembling.

"Oh-hh, ugh, UGH! AHGHGH!" He bellowed as his back arched, and his hips raised up, his cock pointing up his bare chest, and his legs tensed; he stroked the tip of his cock with tight, urgent strokes as his balls pulled up, and clenched, and the first blast shot up his chest, striking his chin and he groaned out load as he released himself. He watched as the slick hot syrup striped him, nestling in his chest hair, and the subsequent weaker blasts spurted out onto his stomach, pooling in his navel. He was breathing hard, loud; feeling the cum slip under his fingers, and he slicked his shaft, feeling the sensation intensify until he could not tolerate more, and held himself, slick and wet, and his hips lowered to the bed.

She was still enjoying her prolonged orgasm as she heard his last heaving breath, imagining him spurting, remembering the sounds of her ex and his friend, all those years ago, so similar, as her mouth and pussy filled with their hot cum, and rubbed her clit, the toy still deep inside her, and regained her climax; a second one, not as strong or sudden, but the pleasure filled her and she called out her delight to the empty room, sending her memories to the air, wondering if they remembered as she did, and imagined them sharing her memory with her now. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, she called out silently, sending her lust into space, wondering if her words would be mysteriously received by the men who had given her that experience.

Listening to her cumming a second time, he thought of her, imagining her cumming from his fantasy of him, and as she busied herself, he stroked the tips of three fingers through the pool of cum on his stomach and brought them quickly to his lips, safe in his isolation, and sucked his own cum from his fingers. He felt guilt and arousal at his illicit act, knowing he hid it from her, afraid that he could not show her this side of himself, and shamed at keeping this secret from her.

On the other end of the line she had her own fingers in her mouth, tasting herself, remembering her fingers coming slick from her cunt, adding the cum from her pussy to her mouth, imprinting the episode on her memory. As she came down she felt embarrassed and guilty of her secret, this event she had never shared with him, and shameful of the way he enjoyed the memory.

"God, that was great," he finally said. "I needed that," he added, the taste of his cum still in his mouth.

"M-mm, so did I," she confessed, her pussy still tingling as she slipped the tool from inside her. She was spent, and euphoric, and dreamily reached for the phone. Her thoughts returned to him, imagining his chest covered with cum. "I'd like to rub my fingers through your cum," she hissed into the phone. Her free hand brought the toy to her mouth, and she sneaked her tongue out silently, tasting herself from the never-soft phallus.

"Maybe when I get home," he agreed.

"Oh, no," she said. "There's no way it'll be on you then," she giggled. "It'll be inside me. One end or the other."

He took a deep breath. "I can do that," he grinned. "Two more days and I'll be home."

"I can hardly wait," she replied, stretching her satisfied body across the bed. "I love you," she whispered dreamily, as relaxation and release wrapped her in cocoon of comfortable, familiar warmth.

They said goodnight, and at separate ends of the country, settled into their beds, reassured of their mutual love, satisfied and relaxed, anxious to see each other again soon, and each reconciling their secrets as they fell asleep.