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The week so far (2/3) January 27, 2011

Posted by Leah in Masturbation.
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Tuesday

Tim is my best friend in graduate school. He is one year ahead of me, five years older, and acted as something of a big brother when I started. We have slept together a couple of times, but decided that we were better as friends than as friends with benefits. He turned thirty yesterday. I phoned to wish him a happy birthday.

I called a few hours before he went out to celebrate the occasion with his friends. On my end, it was just before bedtime. Toward the end of the conversation, once we had finished catching up about life and work, Tim asked if I was horny and wanted to play a little on the phone. I immediately agreed. Shedding my pajamas, I spread out on the bed and caressed the hemispheres of my breasts. One hand held each, weighing them momentarily. As Tim described the hardness of his cock in Boston, I mashed my tits flat, squeezing the flesh, compressing, rougher with my body than most lovers are with me.

Tim said he was stroking himself thinking of me naked and available for him.

I told him I would go to my knees and lick the insides of his thighs and lap at the joining of his legs. I would suck his balls, one of them at a time, lips discovering their shape. The rounded bulges they make against the skin of the scrotum exist for kisses. I wanted to nose along the length of his shaft. I would steeple my hands about the cock and suck wetly at the head, lapping the precome that saturated the crown. I promised to swirl my tongue round and round the glans. I wanted to look up at him with big eyes while I took his cock into my mouth fractionally deeper until I contained him in my throat and the head made a lump in my neck that he could see and touch. I would breathe carefully through my nose, spin my lips at the base, press my fingers against the back face of his sac, and swallow to massage the glans with the muscles of my throat.

Across the Atlantic, I heard him jerking his cock.

Remembering blowjobs past, I wanted him to bundle my hair in his grip, catching the stray locks that fell over my eyes. I recalled how he fondled my tits and ran his hands over back and shoulders while I sucked his cock and scratched at his thighs and clawed at his buttocks. I would lick the sweat from his balls and his groin.

I touched my pussy as I chronicled the act of fellatio.

Tim took up the narrative thread and explained how he would start at my breasts and work his down to my cunt, kissing each square inch of skin as he progressed to his ultimate goal. Once there, he would lick all around before addressing the pussy itself.

Fingernails peeled apart my lips. They carefully brought down the hood to expose my clitoris. A pair of fingers slipped halfway inside. They extracted the wetness at the entrance, smeared it across the roof of the clit. I diddled myself as I listened to Tim detail his oral ministrations.

I wanted to fuck him.

This was a fantasy. There was no need to think about horrid condoms. In my mind’s eye, I saw his bare cock enter me, Tim’s maleness driving into my vagina, the soft skin cloaking the hardness underneath, a rigid penis in contact with pliant muscle. My snug cunt embraced him. Cream from my pussy lubricated the motion. His erection would stretch my walls, dragging along them as he plunged headlong into me. The goatee would tickle during the kisses that we would share.

My feet were flat on the mattress. The kneecaps lifted like mountain peaks. I pressed the glass dildo against the opening. The bulbous knob on top poked past the labial flaps. I spun the glass in a way a cock cannot.

Theme and plot were dispensed with in our story. The sentences became emphatic rather than descriptive. I implored him to take my cunt as I hammered my pussy with the dildo.

“Oh, yes. Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, shit!”

“I am on top, fucking you.”

“Fuck me hard. Have me as your bitch. Come for me.”

Harsh breathing answered my heavy moans. I tried to time my climax to coincide with his. I did not succeed. Tim announced his orgasm and came with an explosive sigh. I imagined his semen leaking out of me. I pictured how I would lick the cock clean of his come and my juices. Dildo abandoned to these thoughts, I rubbed my clit vigorously until I also shuddered. It took me a few extra minutes.

Afterwards, we chatted in a pleasant shade of afterglow. Fingers soothed over my still wet pussy.

Comments»

1. elsiewrites - January 30, 2011

This may be my favorite post (that I’ve read so far). You really captured the energy and rhythm of the long-distance phone sex.

{I touched my pussy as I chronicled the act of fellatio.} My favorite line.

Very nicely, skillfully written. Good times!

Leah - January 30, 2011

I don’t have phone sex frequently: the boyfriend and I Skype. There is an added charge when the visual component of the interaction is subtracted. It’s different from being blindfolded as I can still see what is happening on my end. I don’t want to do phone sex regularly, but it is an enticing treat.

I am glad you enjoyed.


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