Page 16 of Midlife Crisis

“Do as I say,” I command, finding control in my voice. I need her to listen to me. She needs to listen to me, so I repeat myself. “Touch your breast.”

Water sloshes, and I close my eyes, imagining the heaviness. She’s tiny, but she has serious tits for a little body.

“Pinch your nipple. Squeeze it, baby.” Ah, fuck. Unsnapping the catch at the top of my work pants, the crown of my dick busts the seam with relief. I lower the zipper, moaning into the phone when I hear her breath catch. “Like that, little lady. Do it to the other side, too.”

I imagine the massage, the pressure, the tug. Hmm…I bet she feels good. The heel of my palm rubs along the stiff length edging out of my pants.

“Hank.” She gulps on my name, and I know she’s feeling it, the weightlessness of giving into herself.

“Tickle those fingers down your stomach. Comb through the hair at the top of your legs.” I didn’t see her, but I know she has a strip down there. I remember the prickly feel of it against my palm as I dipped my fingers into her. Fuck, she was so wet for me. “Go lower, baby.”

“Hank, I…”

“Do it,” I encourage. My hand slips into my boxers, encircling the engorged mass and tugging fiercely. What would she feel like all wet and slippery over me? The thought curls my hips, forcing more pressure from my fist. “Can I tell you what I’m doing, lady? I’m thinking of you. Wet. Slippery. Sliding down on me.”

A gasp escapes and water slaps in her tub. I want to be there. I keep my eyes shut, my head in the vision. I’d fill her little body as she straddles me.

“You touching yourself, baby? Touching where you want me?”

A lingering, breathy, “Yes,” reminds me of when we first met, and I’m growing close to exploding. Moisture leaks from my tip, and I use it to lubricate the shaft. I bet she’s fucking tight, being so tiny, and I squeeze my dick harder, imagining her riding me.

“Rub, baby. Feel how good it feels. I’m touching you, little lady. I’m slipping into you. Feel me.”

“Oh, Hank.” She chokes. “My finger…”

“No, my finger, little lady. Slip it inside. Feels so good, baby. So good.” Fuck, I’m almost there. Just another stroke. Another squeeze. My balls tighten.

“Hank, I’m gonna—”

“Come, baby. Come all over me.” She moans through the phone, and I release, making a mess on myself. I throw my head back and let the relief cover my fist. My eyes remain closed. In my head, I imagine her clenching, milking, drawing all my seed into her. I groan. “Aww, Middy.”

She sighs. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

My eyes fling open focusing on the spackled ceiling instead of the sticky mess on my fingers.

“Never?” I choke, unable to believe she hasn’t touched herself before.

“Not like this.” Something fierce fills me. My chest swells as I reach for a t-shirt on the floor by my bed. Damn, she makes me feel good.

“Feel better, then?” I tease, knowing there’s no way an orgasm didn’t distract her for at least a few minutes.

“Good enough I might try it again.” Her sultry voice hints at the wine and the satiation of her first orgasm. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t support her suggestion to perform again?

“I just got off myself, listening to you.”

“You did?” Her surprised tone makes me chuckle.

“Absolutely, so let’s start there.” And I talk her through touching herself one more time.

8

Monday morning blues

[Midge]

I fidget as I wait inside the auto restoration office. Even with all the interactions Hank and I have had, I find we still don’t know much about each other. I’m assuming he got my number from the hotline. I’ve learned his work address from Lily at Because Cupcakes. It’s Monday morning, and I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I came here.

I cleared off my desk on Thursday evening, said a few goodbyes to startled faces, and walked out the building I’d been going to for the past six years. The job had been a fresh start, like my marriage was supposed to be when we moved to California. But just like my ex-husband’s upcoming marriage, I find it’s time for me to move on, which brings me to thoughts of Hank.