He would call me up in the middle of the night and we'd spend hours on the phone. I liked his California drawl, his laugh, his unironic use of the word "gnarly" and the things we would talk about, argue about.
We would talk until I was half-asleep, curled in my bed, stroking my hands down my own skin. It wasn't even dirty talk, not really, though sometimes he'd laugh and tell me that he was looking at my pictures right now, and my hand would creep down between my legs...
I never told him what I was doing.
I kept my toy beside my bed.
I reached down for it, pulled it out, and switched it on, keeping the phone next to my ear on my pillow. It was a quiet one, but it did the job, teasing my already-wet cunt. The vibrations made me shiver, but I had to keep my voice calm, to pretend that nothing was different, that I was enthralled with his story.
His voice was hazy, his words unimportant, as I stroked myself, breathing deeply, calmly, not allowing my hips to shake or my voice to break, just a tiny catch in my breath. The sweat was rising on my skin, I reached up to steady the phone with one hand and moved the other one faster, the vibrations thrilling me...almost there, yes...and I came, holding myself still, letting only the softest of gasps escape.
"You know what I mean, dude?" he said in my ear.
Oh, yes, I do.
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