The Voice Pt. 03

Part 3. (Part 1 & 2 are perhaps best read first...)

Still post orgasmic, mellowed after the rush that has just washed over me, I settle into the call all anew. I apologise for the delay in getting to the phone, Lynn is fine about it and tells me I deserved a coffee and was probably in need of the toilet. This makes me grin, I say nothing though, letting her take the conversation and to see if she swings it back to the precise place it was left and headed before she had to hang up.

I consider the risk of this, and decide to roll the dice and see where they fall. Figuring that she might have "Cooled down" After 10 or 15 minutes of sitting alone, pondering the conversation and where it was leading. Perhaps the switch that had flicked reverting back to the "Off position" and her mind now not on her more lustful notions and needs.

Perhaps she has gone to her bedroom and put fresh underwear on, made a coffee or a Tea and wants to have her Tarot Card reading finally...

The thought of that makes me go cold, am I being stupid? Should I have not perhaps pounced on the chance to dive right back in to the place where she was telling me about her intimate place?

"I've just been sat here thinking about the conversation we were having and how it's made me feel" she says...

O.K, so no messing about then, I grin and the glow lower in my body awakens again.

I step alongside her pace and lower my head to the desk, knowing this is heading one way only so best lose the distraction of seeing peoples faces or having them read my lips, let alone read my expression. "Good, I'm glad about that Lynn..." I use her name now like a weapon, a Morning Star spinning around, waiting for the ball on the end of the chain to hit it's mark. Bludgeon it's target, strike hard and the blunt force trauma cause sparks. Her moan now low and soft as she hears her name said low and deep.

"Fuck yes... Say it again... Please..."

I ask "Lynn, are you comfortable?"

She tells me she is sat on the sofa, stretched out, languishing. Her dress up around her thighs, legs exposed, curtains drawn... She tells me that she has been drawing her fingers up and down her legs, stroking the muscles, teasing trails upwards, thinking about my voice and how the knickers that are still on the floor nearby are still wet, as she still is...

I growl a little into the phone, her reaction to it instant, pleasing...

More swearwords follow the gasp and moan.

I tell her I'd like to see what she has just described, drink it all in, every detail. Stand at the end of the sofa and look up her body, run my eyes over her legs and follow their line, heading upwards.

"You've got me so wet, I don't know how, but I'm scared to stand up in case I drip" is her response.

I growl "Good" at her. "I want you wet Lynn, ready..."

The shy 18 year old of a few hours ago now taking a back seat, all or nothing right?

Only, ready for what? What the hell can I say to her or tell her? She's obviously sexually aroused, wants to do something, what I'm fairly sure of. How the hell do I flick this around and find the words she needs to hear or pull out of my arse with enough conviction and confidence the commands to get her there and off?

I've no idea, not a clue; I'm flying high on the wings of a prayer but without a destination or even the fuel to get there if I did have one?

She steps in and saves my arse.

"I'd like that, like you to look at me the way you just described, watch me, as I touch myself..."

My confidence growing by the second, much as something else was again, growing...

I again give her the growl, confirming that I'd like that very much and want to see what she does for my eyes as I do so.

She goes into a description of how her fingers are tracing further now up her thighs and how she can feel her heartbeat pace quickening with every inch they gain towards her most intimate of places. The one that is hot, and aching, pulsing at her touch and lusting with the thoughts she's been having for the last few hours. The finger tip causing electric to course upwards and leading her to bite her lip and breathe heavily.

I sit raptly listening to these details, adding little moans or grunts and growls in the places that I feel them or naturally can't stop myself adding.

She's teasing herself to distraction and the "man noises" I'm making are working it seems, she's doing the hard work herself and I'm apparently just along for the ride. A casual pair of ears, picking my moment to say anything if at all.

I hold my breath and listen to her, talk herself into what she wants to do, is doing, is going to do.

She reaches the crease between her thigh and hip. Tells me how much she likes this special place kissing, or a tongue sliding across it. That subtle little crease, so a face is pressed close and easily within reach of her wanton desire.

Her voice is quick now, the words flowing as her fingers flow towards their end goal. She stumbles over a few here and there as her concentration starts to crumble with the sensations she is giving herself...

By this point I have no doubts this is going the distance and my growing ego and confidence feels like it is about to take flight. I decide to jump on the train and feel the power of what is happening to me.

I tell her that she should close her eyes and imagine I am kneeling close to her ear, so she can feel my breath, hear my voice, so close to her it's like it is physically touching her. Using her name, low, soft, tenderly. So she can hear each letter stated and stamped out, with enough authority to make it register in her head loud as a bell, crystal clear.

I tell her to touch herself, open herself up, feel herself all over, slide her fingers into every nook and cranny and to explore herself while my voice runs in her ear.

Her moans and sighs are now coming in a constant stream as her fingers tantalise and tease her.

I ask her to imagine my eyes watching each deft stroke, touch and how I'd be fixated on her fingertips brushing against the places she is doing right now.

The moan that came forth was louder than anything so far pushed from her lips.

I could hear a more concentrated motion, something more physical was happening and it was obvious.

"I can't tease myself any longer, it's too much, I need to fuck myself for you, I want you to hear me cum, can I cum, will you make me cum, please...?" The force this came out took me by shock. The raw need of it, the lust and desire in it made my cock rage and my eyes glow. I felt like I might be burning holes into the back of my eyelids, it felt like my eyes were going Supernova, the bright orbs of blood vessels passing through my eyelids lighting up and arcing, little balls of fire exploding and each one contained a fragment of a vision, a glimpse of perhaps what was going on down the end of the phone, my imagination running riot with me.

Lynn continued... "I'm begging you, make me cum, hard, now you bastard, do you know what you are doing to me? You've teased me for fucking hours with that sexy voice, now you've got me finger tipping around my aching pussy??? Can I cum, please, please, PLEASE????!"

The very first time a woman has ever begged me for anything, and it's to get off? Certainly not once in any of my previous encounters of being intimate with a woman or girl had they even got close to this, yet here I am sat at work and I've got a woman begging me to be allowed to orgasm. The rush of power this held for me, entrancing. My ears were thudding at the pounding of my heartbeat. All personal previous encounters had been; as most early ones are. Hurried randy moments where you were being "Allowed" to fumble around with someone's intimate bits, tolerated more or less as somehow you'd managed to do or say the right thing. Hardly ever led or driven to such delightful places by the female, made to feel like a dog on heat and the slobber of your desire for an all too brief moment given in too and granted a fleeting moment to get your fix and plunder the treasure chest. Certainly no urges sounded off like this by the female in question.

I felt utterly free, like I could say or do anything right now and know it'd be done. How the fuck do you even explain this? What word does it come under. Which aisle in the library is the book that can tell me all about this? So I can know about it, study it more, learn and consume all and everything about it, as I certainly didn't want this "Thing" To fade. How am I supposed to talk to my friends about this, what I was feeling, how I felt and what it made me think was possible? They'd NEVER understand, at all, if they even believed me. I threw this negative thought away, I didn't need it, not now and if I had my way, never again...

The words from the Blonde came back at me when we were stood by the kettle outside the toilets, "Did you make her cum?"

No chance was I having another or her little private whispers in my ear without being able to turn it around and whisper in her ear "I made her cum, yes... Like a train!" Or some other such description that perhaps wasn't so masculine and ill fitting.

I wasn't being left without being able to assuredly give a firm and correct "Yes I fucking did and she loved it!" Then give her a knowing grin as I threw down the final card, the Ace that won me the final hand. "Go listen to the machine at how loud she screamed when I finally let her get off if you don't believe me; if you dare."

No point now settling for anything other than bragging rights and the satisfaction knowing it was to be the truth of the matter. Lynn was right in some ways, I had teased her, and for a long time, though in all honesty not out of malice or even with forethought, I'd had no idea what had landed in my proverbial lap nor what to do with it. Sheer luck had got me to this point.

However, and it was a huge however, I could bring this game home, lead it to the final victory dance. Own my moment, dominate the final strokes. Be the reason why the floodgates came crashing down and the screams I wanted to hear, be heard.

The notion of honesty seemed to register in my head, I'd been honest all along the way with Lynn. Yes I may have omitted a few details in our long conversation, I had not lied though. She knew I was being honest when we had spoken, and that had seemed to call to her, out to her and draw her in. So be it then, the truth it is...

"Lynn, listen to me, listen carefully Lynn... I want you to do what it is you want, but you are not to let go and cum till you've heard what I have to say, you will know when it is time, but you don't dare cum till it's clear it is time to do so, understood?"

All said with a power that I did not know, where it came from, who loaned me it or created it. All a mystery. It had conviction though, each word hammered out with a truth and power that my 18 year old mind couldn't fathom. They were my words though, my voice... The Voice... Suddenly forged from nowhere. I applied it good and hard...

I told Lynn what I had done when she had hung up the phone. Of course missing out the embarrassing bits and the part that the Blonde had played.

Telling this complete stranger of a woman on the end of the phone that I'd had to go to the toilet and masturbate over the thought of her taking off her sodden underwear, and that her description of her underwear had been the last thought that had made me ejaculate so hard and powerfully. More importantly how much I had enjoyed it, got off on it, and would no doubt do so again...

The howl from the line was powerful. None of that faked porno film stuff. Unmistakable, pure, lusty, raw and above all lost in itself. The moment I'd hit the last words, she'd gone over the edge. The waves of pleasure built up over the hours now free and no stopping them. I could hear her masturbating furiously, the noise feeding me, delighting me, creating a part of me that would never go away. Oh how little I knew and how little was I aware of the huge transformation this moment was to be... When I eventually opened my eyes from this moment nothing I saw would be the same as before I closed them.

Her breathing was harsh panting, snatched breath, and mixed with swearing which was seriously sexy. There was an odd thing, she was calling me names, swearing at me and it was driving me crazy with lust. O.K, that may take some personal time at a later stage to process. Not that I actually had that thought then, the idea of taking time to process things I was years away from being aware of. I just knew I was enjoying being called those things. I was young and lived with being on a hair trigger, everything all in the moment and the idea of coming back to it to mull over and work out, out of my range of concepts at the time.

She worked herself good and hard and there was little doubt she was having a whale of a time doing so. I'd been silent since I uttered the last word about I would do so again with regards masturbating.

I listened though, how could I not?

Every grunt, groan, moan, squeal and curse word, locked into my brain and they would be replayed many times over the next few years with total clarity. Only decades eventually fading them, yet their power would always remain.