Succumbing to the Sound of His Voice

Written by Tara Tainton

Wednesday, 15 December 2010 11:48

It was so late at night. I was exhausted, still chilled from the frigid Chicago air, still caught in the mood induced by enjoying the live performance of my friend's seductive band. I just had to hear my lover's voice, just a momentary reminder of my new reality. I may never grow accustomed to the full-body sensation of being so intensely attracted to a man who's just as enraptured with all that I am.

We subtly mentioned the minor events of our separate days, his 50 degrees warmer than mine. We slipped into a heartfelt discussion of personal turnons, reinforcing for one another that our mutual attraction is so intense, so perfectly compatible. A fantasy of his was casually mentioned... a timely seed, perhaps, planted in my mind in a carefully calculated way in hopes of his enjoying its fulfillment the next time we’re together in the same city. His wish is my command. His words hold so much power, his wishes already granted by me before he even mutters mention of them, all because he knows – really knows – and respects me like none other before him.

His voice soothes my soul, seeps deep under my skin, creates a warming rhythm rippling through my body. I can hear his smile, envision those clear blue eyes and the way they absorb every detail of me, and I can't help but smile myself… at the fact that I now know he exists in the world and that, in that moment, he's connected to me.

I detected a change in his voice, a certain softening. His words were drawn out further; there was a tone of boyishness. Long pauses escaped between thoughts. He was touching himself. I knew it before he confessed the same.

Then, the image came. I pictured him sitting in his office chair with great fitting jeans unzipped, his eager cock freed and standing proudly, gently caressed by his own hand. He said it was time to end our chat, that we both needed sleep desperately and he needed to finish what he'd actually started before I rang him.

I asked him to describe what he intended to do after hanging up. Specifically.

He shared how hard he was, propped there in his hand, how hearing the sound of my voice always turns him on. My attention was drawn to his cock instantly. I could see it in my mind's eye, nestled between those hard athlete's thighs. Immediately, my own body reacted, warming all over, and my pussy swelled as it recalled just what it feels like to have that cock inside me. Unbelievable. Incredible. Magical. Meant to be. Designed for me.

I told him how my body was reacting, and those loaded lines of "oh, yeah?" and "mmmm, hmmm" were swapped back and forth in deepening voices, confirming our silent agreement to continue this line of thought and spontaneous confession.

cell phone sex on bed sheets

I asked what he was wearing as I looked around my hotel room, determining the best way to address my longing for him and the sense of urgency ushered by the pressure felt in my pussy. I slid onto the bed, nestled my head against the pillow with my phone pressed tightly to my ear, and watched as my free hand found its way beneath my the waist of my pants. I thought I'd gently press my fingers against the swell of my arousal as I encouraged my lover to talk into my ear about absolutely anything. Anything to keep his masculine words and intensely sexy personality manifest in the room with me.

My choice of words or conspicuous pauses must've given me away. He asked what I was doing, and I instantly grew timid, actually asking for his insistence that I remain completely honest in order for me to share the finer details of my fingers at play. He asked me how my own hand was making me feel. I sighed.

My confident lover then took control. He must've known what all of me wanted but was too shy to ask for. He reminded me just how hard he was, knowing I would uncontrollably respond again to my natural urge to satisfy him and my mind’s new habit of instantaneously recalling exactly what he feels like deep inside me whenever my attention is drawn to his beautiful cock. I thought of his lap, his previous penetration of me, over and over and over again, and he began to describe exactly what he was "doing" to me without having to be physically present at all.

His nude body was hovering over mine, his cock promising to penetrate me but not until after a sufficient amount of teasing. He kissed my lips, grazed my nipples, drew a line with his warm fingertip down over my chest and between my blushing breasts, making a point to draw my attention there while far from satisfying my budding urges.

I knew he was driving himself just as crazy, but the enjoyment in his eyes was obvious. My necessary deep breaths, my increasingly relaxed and submissive sighs, and my lips attempting to reach his all increased his own arousal, made his cock grow unbearably stiff, He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

His voice cooed in my ear over the distance of three time zones as he painted the perfectly detailed picture of our lovemaking session… exactly when he was pressing the head of his cock against my bulging lips to part them, exactly when he found his way inside, just when he was thrusting at one speed and then the next. His tongue entered my mouth; my fingers delved into my pussy. His imagined cock pressed against me, penetrating and pulling out, sliding in and gliding back out, and I came with a rush that had nearly nothing to do with the movement of my own fingers at all. My body wasn't reacting to my touch; it was faithfully tuned into the sound of my lover’s voice, his gently stern directions, and the memory of how perfectly matched to my pussy his cock happens to be.

He grew more excited, had to ask if I'd come as I grew silent after my waves of moans, and proceeded the storyline to his own faster thrusting as he gained momentum on his own orgasm. I felt his voice, his warmth, his eagerness, his impending orgasm. I grew hotter, wetter, and my fingers stroked away between my thighs as his words quickened to match the pace of his imaginary thrusts, and we came together. Our minds and emotions melded, our bodies over 1500 miles apart.

I'd come – twice – with unexpected ease and urgency. I'd come and been left breathless in a surprisingly satisfying way. I'd come in a brand new way.

So, this is phone sex. I like it.