Remembering: That Call

Reluctantly, we hung up the phone. And even though I had already had two orgasms, two quite strong ones, actually, those images were still running through my head.

To listen to her voice, the inflection, the passion, the heat – the way she responded to the words. My words, as if I was playing the finest instrument in the world. The way she moaned, spoke, gasped at just the right moments, sending her over the edge even harder than we imagined she could.

It wasn’t the first phone call but close to it. We both new it wouldn’t be the last, either – it turns out there was so much more in common than some mutual gratification late at night.

In the times I had partaken in phone sex in the past, there might have been some other interests involved, but not like this – not like the calls of the past few nights. No, not at all.

The clock shows the far side of 5:00 am. Holy crap – how did this happen, again? And why am I hard again? The alarm is set for 7… I don’t have time for this, um, problem.

But soon enough, I take hold of the problem once again.

The memories are fresh. The way her voice changes as the flirting turns to questions of what we like, and what we really like. The sport of verbally feeling each other out and not wanting to shock the other, not wanting to seem like some kind of pervert… until the heat starts to build and it can’t be helped! The shyness wanes.

The conversation drifts through what we do, experiences we’ve had, a game of twenty questions, going back and forth. The laughter comes easy and natural. Soon, she shyly admits that she’s getting turned on by just the conversation, and the questions become more direct.

“Do you like romance?”

“What is the most romantic thing you’ve done, or had done to you,” she asked.

“Do you like kissing and teasing?”

“Little licks on your lower lip while we kiss?” I wonder aloud. “Upper? How about if I sucked your tongue between my lips?”

“How about if I run my hand through your hair, pulling your closer for a deeper kiss…” I continue. Mmmm. Grab your hair? Gladly…

Things are getting more interesting by the minute, for both of us.

Soon we are talking about making out… and the places we have. The places we would like to, together - the car, the movies, in a spare room while at a party. How we would tease each other over dinner – how we would dress for one another.

“Say we we’re having dinner out, and I asked for a taste – a taste from your fingertips…” I can see the wicked smile over the phone, and the words come through loud, clear and sure: “You would get one.”

I can’t help myself, I have to continue… “Do you think we would make it back out to the car?”

“No way – Maybe to the outside of the restaurant, perhaps.”

“Up against the building,” I suggest

The reply: “The wall, the side of the car – across the hood… Oh, yes…”

The desire to please each other is coming to the fore. A genuine desire… it’s not about either one of us, it’s about us together. The conversation gets a little bolder – positions we like – positions for giving and receiving oral.

I just have to see what kind of reaction I will get: “Up against the shower wall, my face buried between your cheeks?”

Oh, damn. How the voice just changed!

“How about my hands all over your hips, thighs, pushing you harder against the wall, as the water cascades all over us,” I push the issue. “My tongue running up and down between your oh so sexy cheeks?” I offer my fingers to explore you…

Between her heavy sighs: “What about, what about if I reach behind me and run my hands over my ass?” Her voice continues: “Would you like that? Would you like me to offer my ass to you baby?”

And now it’s my turn to groan. My eyes are closed and I can all but feel her hips sway and her cheeks against my face…

Oh, the places we went that night, just two tin cans on the end of a long string - the smiles in my voice after hearing her orgasm over and over…

Once again I am lost in my own mind, picturing us together. Thinking, wondering, dreaming of the day I do get to taste her. I feel myself getting even harder in my hand; my fingers no longer touch as I am wrapped around myself. The words come screaming back into my head: “I want you to come for me, spray me, and shoot deep in my throat…” and I do, for a third time tonight.

As soon as my head clears, I realize yes, that is indeed the sun I see –

I am late for work. Again.