The Young Man Next Door

Phone Sex

She did not hear from him for a few weeks, and she began to think that it probably really was over. He had moved on and she would settle back into her comfortable life. The thrill was gone now. She had enjoyed some exciting encounters with him, and she could recall them any time she wanted. She had videos and photographs to help her remember. Perhaps she could use these mementos to spice up her relations with her husband on occasion. She had come to be pretty much satisfied with the situation, though she did sometimes miss the thrills.

Then, suddenly one evening, he texted: "R U alone?"

She texted back rather promptly: "Yes. He's out of town," she added gratuitously. She briefly wondered whether her young lover was

in

town!

Her phone rang.

She was pleased, but a little dismayed too. She really did think their relationship should be over. Intellectually—maturely—she knew it should be over. Emotionally, she was more equivocal. Maybe, she suddenly began to think, a little distance between them might let them keep the coals burning without risk of it flaming out of control. They could flirt by phone, maybe keep some options open for the future. Maybe they could still— All this flashed through her anxious mind before she hit the answer button.

"Hello."

"Hi," he said.

She thought briefly before responding, but no good responses occurred to her. She decided just to let him talk and see where it went.

"Hi," she said back, softly, a hint of sensuality on her breath.

There was a brief silence, then he spoke. "I miss you," he confided, a little plaintively.

She held her breath awhile and waited. He waited her out.

"How are things at school?" she asked, just trying to keep the conversation going, if maybe in a new direction.

"Fine." He sounded a bit peeved, or at least disappointed with her response. There was a long pause. They were both thinking hard about what to say.

"Meet any nice girls yet?" she asked, failing to conceal her mixed feelings on the matter.

"None that interest me," he replied, somewhat encouraged. She was reassured and yet felt a bit guilty. She knew he needed to get on with his life and to find someone his own age. She also thought that she could not sustain their relationship long-term without damaging her marriage. Still, the temptation to push just a little further was powerful. She struggled to say the right things.

"You need to move on," she forced herself to say.

It stung, but he deflected it. "I will. I promise."

"Good," she said insincerely. She was saying the right things, but hearing his voice evoked strong memories of sexual excitement and pleasure. She was feeling aroused despite her efforts to repress it.

Again, there was silence. She stared at the wall and waited, hoping to find the words.

Finally, "It's kinda late," she said bravely, as if she wanted to get off the phone. She did not—not really.

"I know," he replied noncommittally.

Silence, again, but for his breathing. She could hear it quite distinctly, as if he were very near indeed.

"I have to get up early," she persisted, sounding sleepy. The intimacy of talking with her as she was falling asleep provoked him. He felt the provocation in his groin and began to touch himself.

"Are you in bed?" he asked, his voice becoming husky.

"Yes," she responded in the same tone.

"What are you wearing?"

Uh oh

. "Um, pajamas," she answered in the soft, intimate tones of the night.

"What color are they?" he asked, his voice copying the sensuality of hers.

"Um, white," she replied, gazing down at her bosom to confirm.

"Cotton?"

"Yes."

"Soft, white cotton," he said, then paused a few moments before continuing his tack. "Are you wearing anything else?"

She contemplated her response for awhile. Should she stop this or let him go on?

"Yes. Briefs. I always wear briefs when I sleep," she offered, not really knowing why.

"Soft, white cotton?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

Pause. Then, "No." Her voice was beginning to quiver a bit. He heard it.

"I bet you look really hot in your pajamas with no bra. Really sexy." He let those thoughts of his sink in a moment, then continued again. "Can you unbutton your shirt for me?"

She held her breath briefly, then answered, "No," even as she fiddled with the top button.

"Please?"

She undid the top button. She was quickly getting aroused. She wanted to be sure he was too, so she tried to turn the tables. "Are

you

in bed too, baby?"

"Yes."

"What are you wearing?" she continued only a little reluctantly. She would take the path he'd taken.

"Nothing. I always sleep nude."

She could see his firm, young body lying there on his sheets, naked. She wished she could lie atop it, feel its hardness, feel his muscles against her soft stomach and his bulging cock against her groin. She envisioned his hand wrapped around that beautiful, big cock of his, his mind on her and what she was wearing in bed. She unfastened another button.

"Is your shirt open yet?"

"Um, no. Didn't I tell you 'no'?" she chided as she undid the next button. He knew she was playing along despite her insistence otherwise. He could sense it in the softness of her speech, the intimacy and affection in her voice. He waited her out.

"Not yet," she continued as she unfastened the last button.

"I wish I could see you. I wish I could see your beautiful breasts. I wish I could kiss them and lick your nipples. I know they are hard and crinkly. Please open your blouse for me. Please show me your beautiful, naked breasts." He spoke as if he were actually watching her which made her feel like she was being dangerous. It excited her imagination and she imagined that he could indeed see her, that she could indeed show him her naked breasts. She wanted him to admire her, to see her and desire her.

"Um, OK," she allowed softly, but clearly. Her tone was now utterly willing, no longer coy. She complied with his request. The night air felt cool on her exposed flesh. Her nipples indeed began to crinkle and swell as she uncovered them. She cupped her breasts in her hands as if she were, in fact, showing them to him.

"Will you touch them for me, please?"

"I am touching them. I am holding them for you."

"Play with them for me. Let me see you make yourself ready for me."

"OK," she breathed. She touched her breasts more sensually now. She began to tease her nipples with her fingers and rub the flesh with her palms.

"Put the phone on speaker," he ordered.

She did so.

He could tell by the sound that she had complied. He could hear her breathing distinctly now. He could hear the sheets rustling as she raised her knees, anticipating what was coming, what he would ask her to do next.

"Now take off your panties for me."

"OK." She would now do whatever he wanted. She liked this game and would play along to the end. She hiked up her bottom and pushed her panties to her ankles, then lay back, waiting for his next direction.

"Now touch yourself between your legs." He paused briefly, then continued, assuming her compliance. "Are you wet down there? Are you horny? Are you thinking about us being together? Are you ready for me to lie with you?"

She was indeed wet, and horny and thinking precisely about being with him, naked in bed, about to satisfy each other's lust. She slipped her right hand between her legs and felt her wetness, then she began to touch her clitoris softly, slowly working herself toward an orgasm, playing his game happily. "Are you touching yourself too?" she wanted to know. She was breathing through her mouth, almost panting now. Her mouth watered at the thought of his big, hard penis about to cum as he stroked it. She licked her lips lewdly.

"Yes, I am touching myself. I am imagining you there, naked, ready, and it is making me want you really bad, and so, yes, I am touching myself. I am going to make myself cum."

She pictured him stroking himself, about to cum, but trying to hold back. His breath, too, was becoming heavier.

"I know what you are thinking," she ventured. "You want to be here with me now, on my bed, about to lie on top of me, about to move up between my open legs, about to slide your beautiful cock into me and fuck me yet again. My legs are wide open for you. My bottom is wet and ready for you. Fuck me, baby." She closed her eyes and started to masturbate earnestly, wanting to cum when he did. "I want you inside me now," she said as she pushed a finger inside herself, wishing it was him instead.

"I am going to cum pretty soon," he said. "I can't hold back much longer. Yes, I am thinking about being there with you, lying with you on your bed, naked, together. I am about to cum. I wish I could cum in you!"

"Me too," she breathed, verging on her own orgasm. She wanted his cock inside her so bad. She wanted his cum in her bottom.

"Let's do it together," he suggested.

"OK."

"Are you close? I can't hold out much more."

"Yes, baby, I am close. Just a few more seconds!"

She began to rub herself vigorously and to make little sounds of excitement through clinched lips. She could hear his hand now as he stroked himself harder and harder, making squishing sounds on his slick, hungry penis. She scrunched her eyes and could clearly picture him beating off. She listened to the sounds he made and fingered herself, sliding two fingers up inside herself, rubbing her swollen clit with her thumb, back and forth, back and forth.

"I am ready to cum!" he growled.

"Mmmm me too! Go ahead, baby! Cum for me. Fuck me!" She crammed the fingers hard inside herself, imagining it was his penis slamming into her.

He moaned out loud as he shot his load onto his rippled stomach in huge, hot spurts, wanting her to hear his satisfaction clearly. At the sound of his climax she reached her own, rubbing her swollen clitoris and stuffing all four fingers inside herself, trying to fill herself as he would do, then moaning aloud, "Oh, oh, ohhhhhhhhh!"

Then, there was silence, but for the sound of their panting. She lay there, spent, satisfied.

Once her vagina stopped contracting, she pulled her hand out of herself and lay there quietly, collecting herself.

After a couple of minutes, he spoke. "Can you send me a photo of yourself." He was not specific, but she knew what he meant.

"OK," she agreed. "You too?"

"Already sent."

She took a picture of her wet, matted bottom, her clit still very red and swollen, and sent it to him. She looked in her inbox and found a picture of his hard abdomen, several globs of white cum on it. She wanted to lick it off.

"If I were there," she offered, "I'd lick that off you," she declared.

"I would love that," he said, smiling to himself, satisfied that she was still his girlfriend.

"Me too. Maybe another time," she allowed. "Now, I have to get to sleep."

"OK. Please let me know when I can call again."

"I will. 'Night, baby."

"'Night!"

She pressed the off button on her phone and smiled happily.