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.
