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“Spread it open, but don’t take it off. I want my shirt to be able to touch your skin, even though I can’t. Have you ever had phone sex, Payton?”
“N…no.” I can feel her excitement and nerves through the phone.
“Me either. Are your nipples hard for me?”
“Yes.”
“Put the phone on speaker, then touch them. I want you to close your eyes and pretend it’s my hands caressing your breasts. I want you to picture my fingers pinching them gently. Imagine that my mouth is on them, licking and sucking on each one. Can you feel it?”
Her response is a long groan.
“Good girl. Now keep one hand on your breast but slide the other down your stomach to your panties.”
“I’m not wearing any,” she whispers, breathing heavily enough that I can hear it through the receiver and it goes straight to my rock-hard erection. I start to throb in a way I only experience with this woman, and the only way I can think to alleviate the ache is to grab my cock and give it a gentle squeeze.
Now it’s my turn to groan. I grab my t-shirt and rip it off my head as quickly as possible.
“Touch yourself, Payton. Are you wet for me?”
“I already know the answer to that question without touching myself, but yes. God yes, I’m wet for you. So wet.”
“Slide your fingers through the wetness. I want you to touch your pussy for me. Imagine it’s my fingers,” I instruct, my grip on my dick tightens, my hand starts to move on its own.
“Dean.” My name is a moan and the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
“I’m right here, Payton. I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers.”
“I am. It feels so good.”
“Go slow, sweetheart. I want to savor this moment. If I were there, I’d draw out the pleasure as long as possible.”
“I need to come,” she pleads.
“You will. I promise. Spread your legs wide for me. I want you to rub your clit with your opposite hand while you slowly fuck yourself with your fingers.”
“Dean…”
“Do you know what I’m doing, Payton? I’m stroking my cock while you finger yourself. I’m so fucking hard and ready to explode just listening to you take your pleasure.”
“I’m getting so close,” she pants between noises.
There’s no slowing either of us down now. I’m racing full-speed ahead towards an epic orgasm, and listening to Payton get off is only making the entire experience that much more magnificent.
“Touch your clit. Pretend it’s my tongue.”
That does it. She erupts, crying out my name over and over again. It’s music to my ears as I stroke myself off at the same time. Warmth shoots across my stomach and I damn near drop the phone as my body convulses and shakes in the aftermath.
“You still there?” I ask, panting and trying to regain my composure.
“Wow.”
Chuckling, I reach for my shirt and swipe it across my stomach. “I made a mess,” I say absently.
“Me too. I need another shower.”
“Damn, I wish I were there to help.”
“Me too,” she whispers, yawning as she grabs the phone and brings it to her ear, turning the speaker off.
