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“What are you wearing?” I ask.
“Just a pair of jeans. Socks, too, I guess.”
“Are you having a drink?”
“Yeah. Scotch on the rocks.”
“I can see it. I am liking what I’m seeing. But lose the socks.”
“Sure.” He pauses. “Done. Now, put the phone on speaker, Miss Sweetheart. Get naked. Slowly. And tell me what you’re doing as you do it.”
I blow out a gust of air as my heart speeds up.
And I try to think fast, try to think about how to make this sexy for him.
“I’m hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my pink trackpants,” I say.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Mm hm,” I reply. “And I’m shimmying them down my hips.”
“Keep going. Let them fall to the rug.”
“They’re on the rug, Austin,” I whisper.
“Step out of them.”
“Okay.”
“What’s left?” he asks.
“My tank top and my panties.”
“What color are they?”
“My tank top is black.”
“You wearing a bra under it?”
“No.”
“Mm.” I hear the ice cubes tinkling again and then I hear him breathing. He’s taken another sip. And suddenly I’m parched. But I’m not about to pause this sexy conversation to go get a bottle of water.
“What about your panties? Are you wearing your plain cotton good girl panties?” he asks.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m wearing a purple thong.”
A gentle laugh comes through. A husky one. A sexy one.
“Are you bullshitting me, Miss Sweetheart?”
“Nope. I wouldn’t dare,” I say.
“Why are you wearing a thong?” he asks, and his tone has changed. It’s got a bit of an edge to it.
“It’s just what I put on when I got dressed after my bath tonight.”
“Why? Were you feeling sexy?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Take your tank top off. Slowly.”
I follow his directions.
“Jada?” he calls out just as I drop the tank top.
“Yeah?”
Somebody’s sounding a little less patient now.
“Are you standing by the bed now in nothing but a red thong?”
“I am,” I say. “Except it’s purple.”
He chuckles. “I was testing you. Get into the bed,” he orders.
His voice is commanding. It’s sexy.
I sit down and scoot up beside the phone which is lying on the grey comforter.
“Lay back,” he says.
“Okay,” I reply.
“Take your panties off,” he tells me. “And leave them under the pillow.”
I giggle.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay,” I say. “But you better hope your brother and his wife don’t decide to show up for a surprise visit before you’re back.”
There’s silence, then, “No jokes right now, Miss Sweetheart. This is a serious matter.”
“My apologies, Mister Groucho.”
He snickers.
“The third,” I add.
“So… now you’re there in bed, naked, then,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper.
My nipples are hard. And I’m feeling all kinds of naughty right now.
“I want you to touch yourself, Jada. Cup your breasts.”
I blink twice, feeling my face heat.
“Are you doing it?” he asks.
“Uh…” I start.
“Don’t be shy. Do it, baby,” he urges.
And at that endearment, I melt.
While melting, I cup my boobs, slowly emptying my lungs of breath.
“Are you… are you gonna touch yourself, Austin?” I ask, and not without difficulty.
“I am touching myself,” he informs. “I’ve got my cock in my hand right now. I took it out as soon as you told me about your pink trackpants.”
The visual has my eyes widening.
My right hand slides down between my legs.
“You cupping your breasts?” he asks.
My hand slides back up. “Yes.”
“Are you a good girl or a naughty one, Jada?”
“I… I’m a good girl.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna do what I tell you to do?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That pleases me, sweetheart. I want you to slide your right hand slowly down to your pussy.”
I do it, but I keep my eyes closed.
“Part your legs. Give yourself plenty of access.”
I do.
“Rub your clit.”
Oh wow. This is serious now.
“I wish you were here to do it,” I whisper, touching myself.
“I do, too, Jada. Envision that it’s me doing it and I’ll envision it’s you fisting my cock right now.”
I’m super wet and very tingly. I feel so exposed here on the bed he sleeps in. I’m alone and naked, touching myself with his voice directing me, the light on.
If someone had told me I’d be able to do this, I’d tell them they’re crazy. I’d blush at just the notion. I felt like a ridiculous perv for sniffing his shirts before putting them in the washing machine, but here I am, rubbing myself at his command as his voice comes out of my phone after three o’clock in the morning in a bed that would smell like him if I hadn’t just changed the sheets. Damn me for that.
“Mm,” he groans and the fact he’s getting into touching himself is a huge turn-on.
“When I get back, do you know what I wanna do to you?” he asks, voice so deep and husky, it feels like a warm breeze across my sensitive nipples.
I pinch my left one a little and this, coupled with my fingers between my legs, has me arching my back slightly in response.
“No. What?”
“You’ll see,” he warns, and my body breaks out in more goosebumps.
