I’ve been missing Harold, my boyfriend, so badly lately. It’s not easy being in a long-distance relationship and every single day it seems to get harder and harder to deal with.
So those endless conversations on the phone every single night became not only a tradition of sorts but also a good way to keep our love alive, to alleviate my heavy heart if only for a few hours.
“I love hearing your voice,” he whispered, and I closed my eyes, imagining he was right there, lying on my bed by my side, his lips brushing against my earlobe.
“You do? Why?”
“It’s so sexy… so enticing. I love it when you whisper my name, but I love it even more so when you moan for me,” he grunted, making me flush all over.
I smiled, stretching out my legs in front of me, feeling my skin covered with goosebumps. I wanted him so badly, ached for his touch, but he was half a world away from me.
“So you love it when I do this?” I asked as huskily as I could, letting out a soft moan, and loving the way he grunted with desire.
“Yeah, just like that, babydoll… do it again,”
I complied at once, moaning for him, but Harold didn’t seem as satisfied this time around
“It just doesn’t feel real… you’re not moaning because it feels good, you’re just moaning to tease me,” he said playfully, and then added: “Why don’t you touch yourself for me?”
I blushed even further, though I knew this was coming. I was usually on the shy side when it came to my sexuality. Not that I was a prude or anything of the sort, but neither did I go around having phone sex before Harold left my side. Ever since then, though, it’s become more and more common, and I’m not going to lie… I’ve grown to like it quite a bit.
“Mmm… you’re feeling naughty tonight?” I purred hotly, brushing my fingertips over my stomach. I was getting ready for bed, so I was already wearing nothing but a white tank top and a blue pair of cotton panties, nothing else. No bra, no pants, my legs brushed softly against the sheets.
“I am horny as hell, yes. And I think I have a new idea to make this hotter still,” he whispered into my ear, or at least that’s what I pretended. He was talking right into it, after all, even though he was hundreds upon hundreds of miles away.
“Oh?” I asked, rolling my fingertips over the hem of my panties.
“You have ten minutes to cum,” he informed me calmly, and I couldn’t help but giggle.
“What?!” I gasped, and it was his turn to laugh this time around.
“9 minutes, 45 seconds… I’d get going if I were you,” he warned me playfully, and I bit my lower lip, finding him both annoying and incredibly sensual at the same time.
“You’re being bossy,”
“9 minutes 30 seconds. Losing time here,”
“And what happens if I don’t cum in time?” I teased him right back, but already my fingers were trailing over my folds, just above the blue fabric, playing with myself but not quite masturbating yet.
“I won’t call you tomorrow night,” he said smugly, clearly wanting to take away something I really wanted.
“You’re being awful,” I protested, but arousal was noticeable in my voice. I pressed my fingers harder still just over my panties, right where my clit was quivering oh so gently, and he knew what was going on.
“You love it. 8 minutes, beautiful… I would hurry up if I were you. Put the call on speaker so you can use both your hands,”
“What if someone hears us?” I moaned softly, finally pulling my panties down and kicking them off, feeling my folds already soaked.
“Let them enjoy the show… keep going, I want to talk to you tomorrow night. Tell me what you’re doing,”
I obeyed, placing the phone by the side of my head as I began rubbing two eager fingers over my clit, my free hand darting up to my breasts.
“I’m rubbing my clit… I’m so wet, fuck… And my nipples are so hard,”
“Roll your fingers over them, pinch them as hard as you can,” he instructed, and I obeyed, moaning into the phone. It felt so good! I must have lost track of time, lost in the throes of passion, as I pulled at my nipples, as I slid my fingers down my slit and plunged one of them, and then the second, inside my tight pussy. “Four minutes, hurry up…”
“Don’t rush me…” I gasped, quivering all over, bolts of pleasure rushing up and down my body. I didn’t really mean it. For some reason, him making demands was so damned arousing.
“Are you sure? If you don’t get to cum we won’t talk tomorrow… and you won’t be able to cum until the next time I call you,”
“What? I can cum whenever I want!” I protested, sinking my fingers deeper still inside my cunt.
“Oh, you can do whatever the hell you want, sure, but you’re not going to do it. You’re going to hold it back and wait because it makes you horny as hell. I want you to cum, though. Now, before I hang up. In… huh, 3 minutes, and not a second longer,”
“It’s too little time!” I gasped, rubbing my clit fiercely with my thumb as I continued to rush my fingers inside my soaked core, as I pinched and pulled at my nipples, pretending Harold was the one touching me instead.
“No, you can do it… cum for me, gorgeous… come on, just 2 minutes and 15 seconds left. Imagine I go down on you, imagine my tongue rolling over your pussy,” he grunted, and I knew for a fact he was jerking off as well. That certainly got me going.
“I’m… so… close! Oh, Harold!” I moaned, amazed by how fast I had gotten to that point, but it was hard going over it, letting myself fall over the edge.
“One minute… thirty seconds…” he panted heavily, and I squealed out loud, fucking my own pussy with my fingers so hard I could almost imagine it was his cock instead. Smaller, thinner, but it was still better than nothing.
“Harold! Oh, Harold, fuck me harder!” I moaned out loud, thrusting my hips up, trying to pretend he was there with me.
“Cum for me, cum now! Only 58 seconds left!” he demanded, and I was so close, my entire body burning up with blind desire.
I ground my fingers as deep inside my pussy as I could, feeling my walls clenching fiercely around them, sucking them in viciously.
“30 seconds…29…28…” he continued to count down, and I closed my eyes, throwing my head back as I arched my spine even further. “20…19…”
I ended up exploding against my fingers as Harold whispered the number 5 and then the 4, and suddenly he stopped counting, allowing me to cum freely, enjoying my moans and squeals of pleasure. I moaned out his name over and over again, pretending he was there, right on top of me.
“Good girl,” he praised me, speaking only when I had dropped back onto the bed, my muscles aching just a bit. It was the closest I had felt to him since he left, and honestly, I couldn’t wait to do it all over again.