It was about a week after my
visit to Ms. B, and her friend Margaret, in her home town
. I was reminiscing about the things we had done, and this was keeping me distracted at work. I found, to my chagrin, that I was working myself up into quite a state of arousal at some of the most inappropriate moments.
I was sitting in the Department of Motor Vehicles Office, waiting, along with a hundred or so others, for my number to be called so I could request a print-out of my driving record. I was passing the time reminiscing about what went on under the table at the park where B was volunteering, how I thrashed around with Margaret there, and about the show that B put on for me afterwards. I quickly realized that I was rock hard, and I tried to hold my newspaper in such a way as to conceal my erection from the rest of the room. As luck would have it, my number was called at just that moment. I thought it would be more conspicuous to be walking along holding a newspaper over my crotch than to just make a dash for Window 17, so I did the latter. I saw a good-looking woman in her 40s gazing at me and my boner with frank interest. I might have gazed back, were it not for the fact that I needed to get my print-out and go back to work before the end of the lunch hour.
It was becoming apparent that I would have to get the whole thing out of my system, so I sent Ms. B an email requesting a date for a phone call the following afternoon. She responded within a few hours, indicating that she was all for it. As the hour approached, I showered, then contemplated putting on a robe. Deciding against it, I walked naked into the kitchen where I made myself a tequila sunrise, and then I went back to the bedroom. I took a couple of leisurely sips from my drink, and then dialed Ms. B's number.
"Hello?" she answered.
"It's me," I said.
"Oh, good!" she said. "I've been thinking about you. It makes me a dangerous driver, I'm afraid.The scenes in my head were distracting me from what was on the road. I'm happy to hear from you. I'm really ready to talk."
"Me, too," I said.
"I almost called you earlier today. I was driving, and thinking about sex, and well, you know. I was wearing a short skirt. I couldn't seem to keep my right hand away from my special place. And I was getting pretty heated up, and I wanted you on the phone with me, but I couldn't use my left hand to call, because I needed it to steer the car. And I kept looking for a place to pull over, but I couldn't find one where I would have a little privacy. So now I'm sitting on my sofa in a T-shirt and panties. Would you like to know what else I'm doing?"
"Absolutely," I replied, as I felt my cock stiffen.
"You sound like you really want to know," she said, and giggled.
"Yes. Yes, I do," I said, with a touch of hoarseness in my voice.
"Well, I've been thinking about what happened when you came to visit me." She paused.
"And?"
"Well... I've been thinking about how Margaret, you know, ate my pussy." B hesitated, and then continued. "I was shocked. If she had asked me, I would have said no. I'm glad she just did it. But I haven't talked to her since. I think we were both embarrassed and we're afraid to see each other." Another pause. "Did you find it exciting?"
My cock was fully erect now, and I groaned into the phone. I was contemplating whether to begin to stroke it, but I waited to see what B would say next.
"I'll take that as a 'yes.' And you know what else? I've been thinking about how I masturbated in front of you. I've never done that before, either, at least not to the point of making myself cum. Having you watch me was very hot!"
"I loved it. Are you touching yourself now?" I asked. I wanted her to say yes, so I could do it myself.
"All right, if you insist, I'll tell you. I'm rubbing my pussy very slowly through the panties, and the panties are getting very wet. The panties are made of black silk. The wetter they get, the better it feels on my clit. Are you touching yourself?" Ms. B asked.
"Not yet. But my cock is as hard as a rock."
"Put your hand on your cock."
"All right," I said, doing so. "Take off your T-shirt."
"So, we're negotiating, are we?" Ms. B laughed. "Never mind. I agree to your terms. OK." There was a pause. "It's off."
"Are your nipples erect?" I asked.
"Yes. I'm pinching them now. It feels wonderful. But now I've got to put my hand back on my panties. Ohhh," she moaned, "it feels so good! I'm so wet!"
"That's good," I gasped. "I'm stroking my cock now." I paused for a moment, feeling my excitement increase. "I need you to put your finger in your pussy."
"Why?" she said teasingly.
"Because I want you to tell me if it tastes good."
"Oh! I see," said Ms. B. "Oh lord, I'm putting it in, and now... MMMmmmm, it tastes so hot." She waited a moment. "Would you like to taste it?"
"Oh god, yes," I said, stroking my cock faster. "I'd like you to rub your cunt all over my face. I bet it would make me cum."
"Let me taste it again to make sure," she said, her breath ragged. "I've got to get these panties off." I heard her squirming on the other end of the phone. "MMmmm," she purred, "my pussy is all hot and wet and open. I'm going to put my finger in again, but first I need to rub my clit, because it feels so hot." She moaned loudly. "It's so good. I'm putting my finger in... I'm tasting my pussy juice... Oh, it's good... you want me to rub my hot cunt all over your face? You want me to cum in your mouth?"
"Yes... that's what I want..."
"I'm rubbing my hot cunt with my fingers... I'm going to cum..."
"Yes! Cum for me! Do you want me to cum too?"
"Yes! I want you to shoot your cum all over yourself! I'm cumming now!"
I cried out into the phone as I shot cum all over myself.