I don’t want to talk about my work or what I do for fun. I want to go there.
Then take off your clothes and let me take you there.
Kate set the phone down. He said he wanted her to strip for him. That every piece of clothing she took off was for him. Her cashmere sweater. Her dark skinny jeans. Her Victoria’s Secret bra and matching lace panties. He thought she would hesitate, but she didn’t.
Her gas fireplace was on, giving her enough heat, but still she covered herself with a soft throw blanket, stunned by how good it felt on her bare skin.
Okay. I’m naked. What next?
First you need to relax, this is supposed to be fun Kate.
You sound like you’ve done this before.
Sex? I have, yes. Phone sex via an app, I have not. This is as crazy for me as it is for you but I do have a pretty active imagination.
But you’re not naked.
Hold on.
Kate took another sip of her wine and cuddled deeper into the blanket. Who knew something so simple could feel so good. The rub of the fleece material against her thighs, her stomach. Maybe she needed to hang out in her living room naked more often.
A minute later he was back.
There, now we’re both naked.
Where are you?
On my bed, pillows propped behind me.
She didn’t know where it came from, the courage. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the loneliness, either way she didn’t care. There was another person out there in the universe who she was connected to. Who was connected to her.
Are you hard?
Yes. I have been since I started kissing you. I want those nails down my back again. I want you to squeeze my ass.
You don’t want me to touch you? Pleasure you?
No. First I want to know you. And I like to watch, Kate. I want to see you touch yourself so I know what you like. Where you like it hard and rough, where you like it soft and slick. Do that for me now. Touch your breasts, pinch your nipples.
Kate ran her hand over her breast and wasn’t surprised that her nipples were already hard. It was the most sensitive part of her body. When she took the time to masturbate, which she hardly ever did, she always started with her breasts. There were times, if she was turned on enough, she could play and tug on her nipples and that alone would be enough to send her over the edge.
But that’s not what this was about. It wasn’t about her getting herself off. This was sex with someone else. Even if he wasn’t in the same room with her.
They’re hard. I’m pinching them now.
What color are they?
Dark pink. Darker now.
Do you like them to be sucked?
Yes. Kate groaned then as she felt a deep punch of pleasure low in her gut. There was nothing she loved as much as that. A man’s mouth and tongue sucking her deep, her fingers in his hair. The tug and pull of desire running down her chest and into her pussy.
That’s what I would do then. Take them into my mouth, bite down ever so carefully. Suck on them until you screamed. You would feel it the next day, Kate. Your breasts would be a little sore and you would think of me and what I did to you.
Yes!
Now I need to know what else you like. Move your hands down your body, slowly. Touch your ribs, dip a finger into your belly button, run your hand along your hips.
I wish they were your hands.
They will be someday, but you’re not ready for that I think. Hell, I don’t know… it doesn’t matter. Touch yourself, Kate. Between your legs. Are you wet?
Kate could feel how wet she was and gasped. How long had it been since she’d been this aroused? What would everyone think of the stuffy boss lady now? Naked, stretched out on her couch and having phone sex with a stranger.
Her fingers between her legs. Touching herself even as she held the phone awkwardly in her other hand.
Now you. She fumbled a bit as she typed, but she didn’t want to be doing this alone.
Okay. I’ve got my hand around my dick. I want you to slide your fingers inside yourself while I do this. Do you like pressure on your clit?
No. Not directly, it’s too sensitive.
Kate looked at the words she’d just sent. Had she ever told a man that? She didn’t think so. Always she just let them do what they wanted with her body, what they thought she wanted. Never being honest with them, or herself really.
No, she didn’t like it when a man pressed against her clit too hard. Like it was some kind of on or off switch to a climax.
He knew that now. John knew that about her. It seemed oddly intimate.
The barest of touches then. I wish I could taste you. Maybe you’re too sensitive for a finger, but instead you need the brush of my tongue. Can you feel me there? Between your legs, my hair brushing your thighs?