Phone Sex

An excerpt from Make it Raine

submitted by The Bajan Passion Poet

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“Well, if I’m not so innocent you should come over and discipline me.” I purred, inflecting sexily into the phone. I swear I heard him try to swallow. I giggled to myself at the power women have over men.
“Just now, baby, just now. Actually, since tonight is short notice, let’s make Friday night our next date. Gives me time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what, Mr. Man?”
“Well, if I tell you it will spoil the surprise, won’t it?” ‘Surprise’ was said in an even sexier undertone. My yellow thong under my nightshirt was a soppy mess by this point. I don’t think I could restrain the moan any more; it squeezed past my gritted teeth with the ease of a broken dam trying to stop water from seeping out.
He got murderously wicked. “What are you wearing?”
“My nightshirt.” I hedged, deliberately not giving out any more information. “You?”
“I’m just in my boxers.”
My lecherous mind immediately pictured his muscled chest and abs, his rolling shoulders, his powerful legs… I moaned again.
He would not be deterred though. “Take off your nightshirt.” he commanded. Almost instantly, the shirt was pulled from my body. “Yes, baby,” I purred in response.
“What are you wearing now?”
“My bright yellow thong I had on earlier.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nope…”
“Stick your finger into your pussy and taste it.”
I followed his commands. I always liked the taste of my own juices – I guess my obsession with drinking natural fruit juices paid off. I slurped loudly.
“How’s it taste?”
“It’s sweet… you need to come and taste it.” I teased.
“Don’t worry, I will. Stroke your pussy babe. Take a finger and circle your clit for me.”
His low growl of a voice was making me a slave to his every command. My yellow panty was discarded in a hurry. My legs fell back and spread like an opening flower. My index finger slid into my wetness and then started to circle my clit. The next hand immediately started kneading my breast.
“Oh Ian….” my voice trailed off as my pleasure started to build. My voice was ragged, but it was quickly replaced by low moans that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of my clenching sex.
“Feel my dick at your entrance, Jazzie. Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes,” was strangled out of my tightening throat.
“Push your fingers inside of you slowly. Picture my thick, hard dick going straight in….”
I was following his instructions and rubbing my clit and fucking myself with abandon as he talked. His voice got heavier, deeper; I could tell that he was stroking himself while giving me instructions.
“… my hands are on your breasts.” he continued. “I’m pulling on your nipples now….”
I pulled on them with my free hand, one after the other, imagining Ian’s wet mouth tracing my areolas. I needed to go deeper, so I reached for my trusty Man Mountain and started fucking myself to the sound of Ian’s voice.
“Ohhhhhhh Jazzie!” His voice was moaning right along with me. “I have my thick, hard dick in my hands and I’m fucking you with it right now…”
My hands were thrusting the Man Mountain in and out of my wetness as I moaned louder, “Ian, oh God … oh fuck … Ian… Iannnnnnnn! I cumming!”
I was so glad that I lived alone. The scream of my orgasm shook me to my core. In my euphoria I am sure I heard Ian’s expletive riddled shout as he followed my lead and came violently.
Panting, we tried to each find our respective ways back down to earth.
“I – I – I didn’t see that coming.” I stammered, still trying to find my lost equilibrium.
“Damn.” Ian said. “Neither did I.”
“I think I’ll spend a long night recovering from that!” I muttered. “Thank you…”
“It was my pleasure.”
“No, it was our pleasure – I believe we came together!”
Laughing, we said our goodbyes and I hustled to change my sheets before falling asleep.
(c) Robert Gibson