Press "end call" 7

There are people who are clock-watchers, I imagine there are people who stare expectantly at their inboxes, and there's me, impatiently regarding my phone.

When it rings I take a deep breath before pushing the green icon. This one's going to be a gamble.

"Yes?"

"Hi there, gorgeous," his voice says.

"Please identify yourself," I reply.

"It's me, Anthony."

"Anthony? Thank you for calling. Now I'm sure the agency will have apprised you of standard procedure. Before we go any further, I need to acquaint you with my personal charter of service, and then you need to let me know whether you're prepared to accept the arrangement. Your acceptance means your agreement to comply with the charter, Anthony. Do you understand?"

"Ah - charter? I think we already know I'm prepared to accept our arrangement, so okay," he says.

"Okay is not an answer. Let's try again. I will tell you the rules and explain what I expect from you, and you will tell me whether or not you agree to follow those rules and behave as I expect you to. Do you understand, Anthony?" I ask again.

I hear a sort of grin in his voice as he clears his throat. "Oh. Yes, Baby, I understand," he agrees.

"Splendid. Firstly, you do not refer to me as Baby, or Gorgeous or Honey or any other frivolous endearment that may strike you spontaneously. When you speak to me, you will address me as Mistress. Is that clear?"

"Mistress?" He's definitely smiling. "Perfectly clear. Mistress."

"Secondly, you will do whatever I instruct you to do, no questions asked. That may include, but is not restricted to, chauffering, escort duties, and from time to time, taking care of my personal needs, as directed."

"Personal needs, Mistress?" He's smirking now, and once I tell him exactly what I mean, he's going to cream himself, I'm sure of it.

"Personal needs, Anthony," I say again. "Now with regard to all of the aforementioned, you will never be late, you will never be early. You will always come - that is to say arrive - exactly when I tell you to. You will perform as required. My directives are primary and paramount. Transgression of my directives will meet with consequences. Please repeat what I've just said so I know that you've got it."

"I will always come on time, exactly when you tell me to," he says, and I think he may be grinning like he's just won Olympic gold. "Your directives are primary and paramount. There will be discipline for transgression."

"I didn't use the word discipline, Anthony. And you omitted to call me Mistress. What did I say?"

"Uh - consequence, Mistress. You said transgression would incur a consequence."

"That's right, Anthony. Well done. I think you and I are going to get along very well."

"So do I."

"So do I, Mistress," I remind him again. "Then we're agreed, Anthony?"

There's a microsecond while he wonders just what he's letting himself in for, but he's curious and he's game. "Yes, Mistress," he affirms.

You won't regret it, Anthony.

"Good. I'm pleased to see that your presentation is immaculate, Anthony. I specified black tie in my desiderata for tonight; I stressed that my companion be tall and well-groomed and extremely handsome, all of those pre-requisites being non-negotiable. So far, you measure up. Are you able to hold an intelligent conversation on a variety of topics, Anthony?"

"I believe you'll find my conversational ability more than adequate, though you'll discover I'm even more able in other areas," he drawls, and fuck, his confidence is sexy.

"Mistress," I correct him.

"If we're in public and I'm your date, surely you'd prefer that I speak to you by name?"

So fucking sexy.

"Anthony, at this particular function you'll be wearing a collar, with a leash attached. I will be holding your leash, and you will address me as Mistress and you will not forget your position," I inform him.

There's a distinct splutter in response.

"I hope you take instruction well," I add.

"Mistress, I'll do my best," he answers, though sounding smug rather than chastened. I had no idea what reception this particular fantasy would elicit but he's hot for it, and we're having fun already. I've never done this to anyone in real life and Anthony honestly doesn't sound like the sort of guy who wants to act the submissive, but he's going along with it and I'm feeling the tingle in my ladygarden that he just keeps giving me. It's almost not fair, the way he turns me on so fast.

"Anthony, I'm going to hand you my car keys and I want you to take the wheel. I stipulated a safe driver, Anthony, because it's a fetish of mine to touch a man's genital area while he's driving. You're going to need to spread your legs, Anthony, so I've got plenty of room to play. What do you think I mean by genital area, Anthony?"

"Cock?" he offers with enthusiasm and without hesitation. "Balls?" he adds, nearly as quickly.

"Excellent, Anthony - that's exactly what I mean. But you're forgetting your manners, and I'm going to have to give you your first consequence. So I'm not going to touch your cock or your balls. I hope you're a quick learner Anthony, for your sake. But you may enjoy this anyway. Part your thighs, Anthony, and make room so that I can reach where I want to go. Can you feel my hand on your leg? Eyes forward, please. Can you feel my fingers touching you? I like a smooth ride, Anthony, don't allow yourself to become distracted. This car doesn't have cruise control - you'll need to maintain a steady pressure on the accelerator. I must say I'm impressed at your musculature. Your thigh feels firm and strong. I like the fabric of your suit, Anthony, because with your pants stretched taut like this, I'm enjoying the texture as I scratch with my fingernails from your knee to your groin. I specified no underwear, Anthony. I hope I'm not going to feel another layer of material between my fingers and your skin. I hope it's just you in there, commando. Are you commando inside that dress suit, Anthony?"

"Yes, Mistress, as requested," he says, and I lick my lips. Thank you, Anthony, thank you very much.

"Good, Anthony, because I don't want to negotiate layers of clothing. I want there to be hardly anything between me and you. Now remember, hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal, Anthony, eyes on the road. That's quite a bulge nestling there between your thighs, I see. Very nice. I'll certainly inspect that later. But for now, Anthony, there's another part of the male body that fascinates me. It's the very root of the penis, located below the scrotal sac. The perineum. It's smooth and solid and rounded, and when a man is sexually aroused, his perineum becomes just as rigid as his cock. That's where I want to touch you, Anthony. But you're going to have to concentrate on your driving. This isn't a game. This is me checking out the goods. Of course, when you're sitting down, access to the perineum is limited unless you're in a state of high excitement. Your testicles are probably in a relaxed condition right now, and they'll be low. If you were really turned on, and your ball sac had tightened so much that your balls felt distended and firm, they'd rise and I'd be able to get my hand in underneath them easily. It's not so easy now, Anthony. I guess I'll have to wait. My advertisement asked for a man with a nice package - large testicles and a large penis. Large when flaccid, Anthony. Long and thick. And when erect? I asked for the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Anthony. You're definitely tall, and undeniably handsome - but what about the rest of it, Anthony? Are you going to fulfil all my requirements?"

"Mistress, I'm ready to show you how I'll fulfil your requirements right now. You won't be disappointed," my caller assures me.

"Right now is not the appropriate time, Anthony, although I appreciate your zeal," I chide softly. Then I think about what he's said, what he's offered. I can't resist.

"Actually - your suggestion has some merit. Since you've mentioned it, Anthony, before we go into the party it might be a good idea that I conduct an inspection, to ensure that I'm getting exactly what I stipulated. I'm already impressed with your driving. You're masterful, Anthony, totally in command. Your hands are decisive as they grip the wheel and your movements are smooth and confident. You're graceful, Anthony, and I like that. You're very sure. I find it sexy, the fact that you're effortlessly proficient. And Anthony, I must say admire your technique in taking the curves. The way you're easing us around corners, slowing just a little and then accelerating once we're back on the straight. I think it augurs well. And this parking space was particularly tight, Anthony, yet you executed real precision in getting such a big car into somewhere so narrow. Full marks for finesse, Anthony. Now switch off the ignition and face me, please. My curiosity is piqued and there's something I'd like to see. I hope you're co-operative, Anthony. Are you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Anything you ask of me, I'll co-operate," Anthony says, with what sounds like a snicker. "Your wish is my command."

Oh, good. Glad you're assuming the role so thoroughly and so willingly. I'm going to be taking you slow and hot tonight, because sometimes that's what I want. Jesus - do you like going slow and hot, Anthony? It's not just about riding a speeding bullet to the glittering prize is it? It's about getting there, and we don't have to rush. But we don't have to slow to a standstill, either. Let's maintain the momentum.

"I'll bear that in mind. Now, would you loosen your tie please, Anthony? Would you undo it altogether and leave the ends dangling? I'm fascinated watching your fingers. You're very dextrous. Now the buttons of your shirt. One by one, reveal yourself to me. Nice and gradual, thank you, Anthony. I want to see how you're built. Your chest, your torso, your abdomen. And I want to see your body hair. Do you manscape? Do you trim? I prefer hair on a man, Anthony. I don't want a date who looks like a little boy, I like a man to look sexually mature. Now, pull your shirt aside and show me your nipples. Well, thank you. Mmm. They're nice, more than nice. I'm sure they'd feel good to touch. I'm sure they'd taste good. Are you an afficionado of delayed gratification, Anthony? I am, and so savoring your nipples is a treat I'm going to set aside for myself to enjoy later. Amongst other things. Do you like saving treats for later, Anthony?"

"Sometimes," Anthony says. "Mistress." There's no panting yet - from his end, anyhow. I'm fucking happy with the fantasy visual at my end, but I need my caller to be happy too. I need to rev things up.

"Now, Anthony, another of my favorite aspects of the male anatomy is the line of hair that runs north and south from the navel. I'm very appreciative of yours, it's remarkable. Beautiful. Just as soon as I've had my fill of your nipples later on I'm going to follow that line with my tongue, Anthony, seeing where it's going to lead me. But I'd like a preview. I want you to unbuckle your belt, then slide the zipper down on your pants. Slow, please. When it's my birthday I don't like to unwrap my gifts too quickly and even though it's not my birthday today, I certainly feel like you're a gift. I want to linger over discovering you. I'm letting the anticipation build-up, the tension. It's all about the tension, don't you think, Anthony? There's quite a bit of tension now, as you're starting to pull your trousers open - revealing where your treasure trail merges with your pubic hair. Oh God - you're gorgeous. Just perfect. So sexy. You're trimmed just a little, enough for your hair not to be a forest, but enough for me to play with, to stroke. I'm salivating, Anthony, and my mouth is slightly open. I keep having to run my tongue over my lips to moisten them. This is all delicious but there's just one more thing. One more thing I want to see before we get out of this car and go to the party. Anthony - I want to see your penis."

"Yes, yes. I want you to look at me. I'm hard for you, so hard," he growls.

Oh?

"I beg your pardon?" I say abruptly.

"I'm fucking hard, just from the way you talk to me. From the way you look at me."

"I beg your pardon?" I repeat. "Are you forgetting something, Anthony?"

"Ah - oh. Mistress. My dick is hard for you, Mistress. It's wet with pre-cum."

Naughty boy, Anthony. So very naughty. Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

"But I don't want your dick to be hard, Anthony. What I want to see through your open zipper is your fat cock lying dormant and soft against your thigh. You don't have my permission to be hard, Anthony," I reprimand.

"Mistress?" he asks, taken aback.

"I want to see your penis flaccid. Limp. I want to see the shape of it, the curve, the length, the weight. Did I instruct you to develop an erection? Did I at any time direct you to make yourself erect?"

"No. But what you were saying to me was arousing. It's not something I could control - my dick got stiff all by itself. Your voice is very sexy, Mistress," he says.

"Don't try to mollify me, Anthony," I reply.

"Mistress, you were being provocative," he responds. He's answering back, and I love it. I knew he wouldn't be completely passive, it's just not in his nature. While I'm taking on different personas for these calls, he's being himself.

"Whether you consider me provocative or not is immaterial. This is a misdemeanor. I suggest you take steps to rectify the situation."

He inhales. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I want to go in to the party, Anthony, accompanied by you, and I don't want your appearance to be - disreputable. I'll give you five minutes to resolve your predicament."

"Mistress - my hard-on isn't going to just go away. To get rid of it I'm going to have to come. How about you resolve the situation for me?" he invites.

Oh, I would love to, believe me - but today's power-play doesn't allow for it.

"I think not, Anthony," is my terse reply. "You can reach climax in five minutes, I presume, if you put your mind to it?"

"I can if you put your mouth to it," he answers. He could be just about to earn himself the discipline he mentioned earlier - but I don't want to go down that track. I've got something else in store.

"That's not on the agenda, Anthony," I admonish. "I'd like you to get out of the car now, please."

"Out of the car?"

"Yes. I don't want my cleaning service to find anything untoward on the upholstery. There's no need to put your clothes back together. Leave them exactly as they are - your shirt open, your tie dangling, your belt and zipper undone, thank you. Now please walk around to the passenger's side of the vehicle..."

"Uh, why?" he replies, clearly confused.

"To conclude your business."

"What?"

I nearly laugh at his startled yelp.

"Anthony, we're underground, and it's fairly dark. Currently we're the only two people in this car lot. Kindly proceed around the car to the window on my side. I want to see the angle of your erection when standing. My preference is for an erection to be at around ninety degrees. That way, I know a man is capable of sexual intercourse in almost any position without it being uncomfortable for him. So show yourself to me Anthony, through the window. You'll be at the height of my face, with me still sitting in here. I want to observe your masturbatory technique, Anthony. The basic fist grip is my favorite, I have to admit, when a man's whole hand is wrapped around his shaft as he pumps. But perhaps I'm getting a little ahead of things, because I like him to start with his thumb and fingertips, a loose hold as he coaxes himself to rigidity. Very good, Anthony, I can see you're listening and paying attention. Your cock is only a few inches from my mouth right now - it's almost a shame there's a sheet of glass between us. But just think, Anthony - you'll come in my face and I won't need to fix my make-up. You can spurt your creamy ejaculate as hard and far as it will go, Anthony, holding your cock to aim it right at me and I can even open my mouth and extend my tongue to taste you and lick you and lap it up and swallow it all - and it won't go in my mouth. Ideal, don't you think? You have a glorious cock, Anthony, and I especially like seeing you tug on it like this. I like what's happening to your balls, how they're swinging just a little. When you get worked up they're going to swing a whole lot more, aren't they? I'm going to enjoy that, although it won't last long, because I know they're going to swell and tighten when you're ready to shoot your load, when your head's shiny and engorged, dark red with the extra blood in it, and your shaft is granite hard, diamond hard. When you want to shatter into a million pieces, erupt like a volcano, blast off like a rocket. Are you enjoying pleasuring yourself while I watch and listen, Anthony? Or would you prefer to be inside me right now, feeling my hot wet pussy all around you instead of your hand?"

"Oh, fuck. I like you watching me, but you know I want to be inside your pussy," he says.

"No, I don't know that. I have no idea about you, what your preferences are, what you want. You might be into tits, you might like sucking them and rubbing your face between them, or rubbing your cock all over them. You might be into asses, you might want me to get on my hands and knees in front of you so that you could clutch me by the ass while you fuck me. You might be into thighs, wanting to kneel between mine and hold them wide open, stroking them while you plunge deeply in and out of me. I haven't asked you what you like, because I'm interested in what I like. I like seeing you pulling on your cock. All the way up and down please, Anthony. You said you were wet with pre-cum. I want you to spread it over the head of your dick and pull your foreskin right up to cover it, then strongly and smoothly back down as far as you can. You need to do that several times Anthony, to lubricate yourself so that you can pick up speed. I want to watch your foreskin glide over the heavy ridge, I want to watch your dick pointing straight at me, directly at me while you're jerking yourself, jacking yourself, Anthony. And you know what else? I want to hear you moan. Do it, Anthony. Do it for me. I'm motionless in the car while you stand outside, leaning over my window, supporting yourself with one hand while the other is heaving up and down on your dick and you're beating off, jerking your hips, moving your hand faster and faster, because I've told you to come. Are you getting there, Anthony? Are you getting close to coming? Are your balls swollen and ready and can you feel the gathering of force in your thighs, feel the tightening, feel the imperative to release?"

I hope so, Anthony. Tell me.

"Fuck, yeah, I'm nearly there, nearly," he pants. "Baby - can you talk about pulling your dress up and showing me your underwear? Or tell me you're fondling your tits? Grabbing them, squeezing them? I need more - I need you to tell me more."

"You do?" I croon. "Well, that's a shame, Anthony, because your five minutes just finished, even if you didn't. Open my door please so that I can get out."

There's a pause in his panting. Then he gasps, "What? Fuck. Jesus - are you serious? We've stopped?"

Oh, poor boy. All worked up and nowhere to blow.

"I did advise you that there was a time limit on your activity," I say. "I don't mean to be cruel, Anthony, it's just that our hosts are expecting me - I don't want to arrive late. Please re-arrange yourself. I'm sorry about the state you're in, but I'd appreciate your trying to minimize it. We don't want to look like a spectacle. Now before we make our entrance, I have one more thing to ask of you."

"Anything," he says, quickly, because he's hoping it's something hot. It is, Anthony, don't you worry. But it's not going to give you any relief just yet. We've got a little while to go.

"Thank you, Anthony. Your willingness to do as I ask is noted. You see this coat I'm wearing tonight? Such a vibrant color, so passionate, this deep, sensuous red. And the fabric is more than a little clingy. To tell you the truth, this coat isn't all that warm, really, because the fabric is so pliant. Not stiff, as you would normally expect a trenchcoat to be. I had this coat made to order, Anthony, and it's perfectly fitted to my shoulders, my chest, my waist and hips. I've belted it in even further around my waist to show off my curvaceous figure. I'm not making a spurious claim, Anthony, I truly am shaped like an hourglass, you can see for yourself. But I'm worried my outline is spoilt by - well, do you know what a VPL is, Anthony? Those initials stand for visible panty line. The fabric of my coat is so fine, and the cut is so close that I'm a little concerned people will be able to see the indentation of my panties where the elastic lies across my ass cheeks. So Anthony - this will only take a moment, I'm going to very quickly slide my panties off and give them to you. Would you look after them for me? They're silk, they're rather delicate, and they were very expensive. They're warm, Anthony, from my body heat, and I'm afraid they may even be somewhat damp, after my watching your display. Your cock. You masturbating in my face, with the window pane between us. I was really anticipating your come splattering on the glass. That was very, very sexy, Anthony. Will you keep my panties in your pocket during the party for me, Anthony?"

"Oh, shit," he breathes.

"I gather that's a yes, Anthony. Now I'll straighten my coat as we walk, make sure it's as form fitting as it's meant to be while still giving me respectable coverage. It's very business-like, contrasting sharply with how it emphasizes my shape. These heels of mine are pretty high - five inches. Balancing on them really makes my hips sway and my ass stick out, flexing my calves and arching my back. There'll be a lot of influential, important people at this party, Anthony, and I'm sure you and I will make a good impression. There's something I should mention, though, before we circulate. Something I should check. Anthony, if I bend a little towards you, and your gaze happens to drift downwards, towards my cleavage, I hope the button placement on my coat is high enough to be discreet. Do you know what I mean?"

"No," he answers. Never fear, Anthony, we're getting ready to heat up again.

"Well, have a look, Anthony. Down my front. Between my breasts. The valley there. You're probably not sure what I'm talking about, but the thing is Anthony - if it gets warm tonight I won't be taking my coat off. Even if things get so humid I'm flushed and perspiring. Because, Anthony - I'm wearing nothing underneath this coat. Not a stitch. No dress, no bra - and of course you know I have no panties - they're in your pocket. I'm completely bare, Anthony - naked. So if it gets really hot I don't know what I'll do. You'll need to be responsible, Anthony. You'll need to have an eye on me at all times, because I'll be a little vulnerable. Will you keep watch, Anthony?"

"Jesus - are you going to do this to me all night? Tease me? You make me stroke my cock in front of you but you stop me before I can come, then you give me your damp panties and tell me you're not wearing anything - I'm going to have blue balls and a heart attack," my caller says.

"You sound a little petulant," I remark. "I think it's probably time I put your collar on, to remind you of your role tonight."

"I'm not petulant. I'm just fucking turned on," he growls back. "I don't give a damn about your party, or my role, Mistress. You think I really feel like escorting you anywhere when your underwear is soaking my pocket, and my dick is standing at half-mast just from listening to you talk? You think I'm in the mood for banal chit-chat with a roomful of strangers?"

"Anthony..." I start.

"You know - " he says back to me. "That really is a very stylish coat, and I'm happy for you to keep it on and I'll try not to destroy it while I fuck you all the way to next week on the hood of the car. Then, if you still need to socialize, we can go to your party. And I'll fuck you again, against the first flat surface we see, which will probably be the front door."

Jesus he's hot. Who knew he'd hijack the scenario like this?

"Really, Anthony? That's what you'd like to do?" I purr, because he's so fucking sexy when he's being commanding. I want him to keep talking. I want him to growl and curse and groan so that I can finger myself and get off.

"Just give me the word, that's exactly what I'm going to do," he answers. "So what's it to be? Your ass on the car with your legs spread apart and me between them, fingering your clit and sliding my cock in and out of your delectable pussy, or the two of us mincing around some insufferable social gathering for far too fucking long, counting down the seconds until we can get out of there and have each other? Because that's what we both want, isn't it?"

"Uh - yes," I agree, a little weakly.

He snorts. "You'll have to speak with a lot more conviction than that if I'm going to pull your pretty coat up and my pants down, and hold your legs open and push my rigid cock into you. A half-hearted assent isn't going to get the job done. May I remind you you're the one in charge here, Mistress? You'll have to order me. Direct me. Be explicit."

Oh boy. I need to gather myself, slip back into character.

"Anthony," I state after taking a moment to regain composure, "You're getting a little above yourself."

"Another minute and I'll be above you," he murmurs.

"Anthony," I repeat, more firmly. "I'm afraid this simply won't do, this sort of talk from you. You're in breach of the terms of our arrangement. I am the boss and you're speaking out of turn. And for the record, there is absolutely no possibility of your doing anything whatsoever to me on the hood of my car. It's very valuable and I don't want it getting scratched."

"Oh, you can be assured I'll be very considerate of the car. If I'm not you can spank me," he smirks. Well fuck me dead. I take a deep breath.

"Anthony, you seem to be somewhat rampant right now. I think you're letting your penis rule your intellect. Obviously when you're in this state of mind you're not capable of the sort of obedience I require - so clearly I'm going to have to take measures to ensure your future compliance. Now as it happens, Anthony, I'm feeling rather needful. It's time I put you to the test. I'll go easy on you for round one, Anthony. No acrobatics necessary - I'm not after a gymnast or an athlete. I'm going to stand at the front of the car and I want you to untie the knot on my belt. As you can see there are no buttons, so you can understand my concern at having adequate coverage in public. When you're the only one looking at me I'm perfectly fine if my coat falls open once the belt's undone, and if, when I put my hands on the hood behind me to ease myself onto my back, you can see me, bare from neck to ankle. I'm sure my body looks inviting, Anthony. My breasts are full and slightly heavy and they really move. My belly is rounded, my hips are curved, flaring out from my waist down to my thighs. I took ballet lessons for years, Anthony. My thighs are very strong. Strong enough to make a grown man cry when they're wrapped around him, though I assure you it's not from pain. It's from sheer, agonizing pleasure - because if my thighs are wrapped around a man it means he's in me. All the way in me, not some shallow penetration where the head of his cock has barely breached my entrance - I mean he's sheathed to the hilt. And that's what I want, Anthony. Depth. It's not something everyone can give me, because not everybody is big enough. And it's why I don't want fancy positions with my legs akimbo, pulled every which way. I'm extremely flexible Anthony - you'd be amazed at how extensile I am, but what I need from you right now isn't creativity and variety. What I need is length. Size. Girth. Hardness. And Anthony, one more thing. If you're going to fuck me right now on my car as I lie back and spread open for you - do you know what else I want?"

He's started now, I know by the hoarseness of his reply. "You want me to rub your clit?"

"No, I definitely do not. If you're fucking me right you won't need to rub my clit. Not with your fingers anyway. That's not what I'm talking about," I say, although it's what I'm doing.

"You want me to play with your breasts?"

"No, Anthony, I don't. You're going to need one hand on the car bracing yourself, and the other under my ass, holding me tight as you thrust so that you can get as deep as possible."

"What is it then? What do you want from me?"

"I want endurance, Anthony. I need you to fuck me good and long and hard, solid and strong and rhythmic, over and over. I want you to line yourself up with me, your throbbing head pressing against my slit, and easing in, stretching and opening me inch by inch. Then I want you to pull your rigid cock all the way out of my aching pussy on every stroke, and plunge it back inside me all the way. I'm so wet you'll be gliding smoothly, and you'll be picking up the pace because we'll both be so excited, and you're going to feel so good, so good. You're going to feel my texture and my heat, you're going to feel my slippery, silken pussy sucking on you with every outstroke, imploring you to return. You're going to feel me welcoming you, greedy and soft and warm, enveloping your cock, engulfing you. You're going to feel my hips rise to meet you, my thighs around you, my calves against your ass guiding you, drawing you into me, not letting you go. I don't want to let you go, Anthony, until I've had enough, and I don't know how can ever get enough."

He's panting softly, he's muttering, "Oh God, I see you. I feel you. Do you want to come? Can my dick make you come?"

"Yes, Anthony, it can. You've got to raise yourself up on me, so that our bodies are close and our hips are together. My nipples will be stimulated by your hair, your skin, and you'll be able to feel them pebbled against you. I'm going to clasp your thighs with mine, hold you in the cradle of my hips and I want you to keep still, Anthony. Keep still for me. I'm going to rock up against you, grinding my clit against your dick. You've got to be deep, Anthony, deep and hard. You've got to hold on for me while I go crazy beneath you, while I writhe and buck. The pleasure's building up inside me and you've got to last, no matter how much you feel like letting go. I'm pumping my hips desperately, I'm all over your cock, I feel consumed, I feel out of control, I feel feral - "

"Oh, do it - fuck me, like that - fuck me," he moans. The way his voice sounds broken does it for me. Makes me grit my teeth silently without breathing, everything in me tight and clenched, even my fingers stilled until the waves come, the ripples, the shuddering, the release. I can't even hear him, can't see anything as the vortex claims me, finally loosening as I sigh.

"Oh, Jesus - that was, that was - you just - didn't you?" he gasps and it's moved from me to him, the pleasure, the fire. It takes him over, takes him under. I listen as the whirlwind tosses and spins him, then as he recovers, as we both recover, replete in the calm after the storm.

"We're getting pretty good at this, wouldn't you say?" he murmurs lazily after a while.

"Yeah, pretty good," I smile. "How's your wrist?"

He lets out a bark of laughter. "Not too bad. How are your fingers?"

Now I laugh. "What makes you think I'm not using toys?"

"No buzzing," he says smugly.

"Dildos don't buzz," I say, just as smugly.

"Jesus!" he exclaims, sounding disconcerted. "You're using a dildo? Seriously?"

Hmm. It's as if he's threatened. "No. Two fingers," I assure him.

"Inside or outside?"

"Outside. I mean, you know, on my clit. My other hand's holding my cell, or else I'd be using two of those fingers as well."

"Really? Oh girl, I'd give you so much more than that," he breathes, and his voice is liquid temptation, a honeyed, sinful seduction.

I'd love to imagine what he means, picture what he means, but unfortunately that's not going to happen with him still on the line. It's going to be my treat for later.

"Well, nice talking to you. Thanks for calling," I tell him.

"What? You're going? So soon?" he asks.

He's cuter by the day. Hotter by the day, too. I don't know how much more I can take.

"I'm afraid so," I say evenly, though I feel distinctly uneven.

Before my brain can send the instruction to my hand, I press end call.

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AN: I'm cross-eyed right now but I wanted to post this. Sorry for any mistakes! I'll fix them up, promise.