Private calls

Standard

My day began with him, in my phone. A quick hello, reassurance we had both survived the night. But things went south quickly.
How does a conversation go from “I’m going into work late today” to “next time, I want to sink into your ass”? And why does it have such an effect on me?
I have never really wanted these things, but when I read his words, I stop getting dressed. I lose the strength in my legs, sink to the couch, naked. And he goes on and on, detailing how it would happen (will happen?), how it would feel for each of us.
Soon, I am lying with my hand between my legs. He tells me to put a finger in my ass. And, by god, I do it. Immediately, my pussy floods, my phone vibrating with more and more brazen instructions, each detailed more than the one before.
And it works. It turns me on more than I ever imagined it would. My orgasm wracks my body as I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
I am way later for work than I planned. Quick shower, panties donned; had to have them. I was still soaked.
Yet he doesn’t let up. On and on, he keeps it up, keeps me wet all day. I find I cannot stop reading his words, sneaking to check my phone in meetings, as I drive, while I’m talking to children even. All day.
And they don’t know.
How can this be? I ask myself. How can they smile and ask about the weather when I can feel my pussy contract because you told me you want to fuck me up my ass? I ask them about their future plans, I take photos, I drive my car, boot up a computer, all the while he is telling me what he wants, how he wants it, what he will do.
Fuck, it turns me on, he does. My panties are wet and stuck to my pussy, through to my jeans. I stay in constant contact with him throughout the day, filthy words back and forth.
And they have no idea.
How can they not know, not smell my cunt, not feel the vibrations? How can they not see my eyes going down to slits, hear my breath catch in my throat? But they don’t. They laugh and talk and say things like, “Have a nice day,” and “it was good talking to you.”
All the while, he is telling me he wants to fuck my ass raw. He wants to make me cum by shoving his cock into it, I came for him today, he wants to feel me cum like that. How tight it will be, how he will use my pussy juices as lube – nasty, outrageous things.
I read them, and smile at the kindergarten teacher, at the waitress, at my co-workers. I talk to my sister, my husband, my son as I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, each text making my nipples stand out against my sweater. And they honestly can’t tell.
Someday, soon I hope, I will tell them I have a meeting, an assignment, a shopping trip a luncheon I must attend. I will put on underwear they cannot see, smear perfume in places they cannot smell. I will make plans they have no idea about.
I will let him do it, I think. I will lay prone, aroused by words and touch and smells and thoughts and sights, and he will do this thing he wants so badly. None of them will hear me groan or gasp. They will have no idea when I shout or sob or fuck him so hard I sweat.
I will leave him with his cum dripping from my pussy, my ass. I will feel him trickle out of me when I talk to the lady at the grocery store. I will touch my hair, stiff with his juices, as I talk on the phone, and I will smile. I will touch tender spots he leaves on my body when my husband asks about the phone bill.
And they won’t have a clue.

5 responses »

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