A beat. Then another. I thought I’d be the one to continue this little challenge, but of course, I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Cosette Evangelista as she said,
“I have.”
Well, strip me of my name and just call me ‘Rock’ because I was fucking hard.
Multiple conjured-up images of Cosette on her mattress entered my mind, my cock throbbing under my basketball shorts with each one, as I decided to bite the bullet and try to finish this game I started.
“Show me.”
I heard C’s sharp inhale through the phone, and I almost caved, wanting to stop immediately at the thought that it was making her uncomfortable. Until I saw her get into position, back now returned to lie down on the mattress comfortably.
She folded her knees up before her hand moved down her body.
Oh, so slowly.
Traveling down her chest and her stomach before the limb completely disappears underneath the waistband of her lounge shorts.
All of this while she kept her head turned to me, still having her eyes locked on mine.
“Good girl,” I muttered in a gravelly tone, as my own hand moved to adjust myself, squeezing my length through the fabric just to feel something.
Her eyes went to follow my movement, and I watched her lips part in a soft moan at the sight, her back arching off the bed.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
Every single word flew out of my mouth naturally, so effortlessly that she didn’t think to question it too. Or maybe her mind is just preoccupied at the moment.
“I want to watch you, too.” I heard C’s soft voice as my eyes followed the movement of her hand under her lounge shorts, probably rubbing her pretty little clit while knowing that I’m watching her.
“Yeah?” I asked, pulling down the top of my shorts to let my aching dick spring free.
A low moan escaped her as she hummed with pleasure, her eyes fixed on my exposed cock.
Fuck, how am I even going to last three minutes during the real thing when she sounds so damn responsive to everything. And we’re not even touching each other yet.
Right now, though? I’m only focused on putting on a performance for her.
“Need you to touch yourself with me, baby.”
She did. While I had my wet palm wrapped around myself, stroking, imagining it was her, my eyes feasted on the way her knees seemed to wobble in the air because of the ministrations of her own fingers.
The line was filled with her quiet moans, her barely controlled whimpers that’s sending goosebumps all over my body.
I felt so goddamn gone, moving my hand so fast that when I heard her back-to-back mewling? A telltale sign that she was reaching her peak? I followed not long behind, groaning and cursing into my phone’s microphone as ropes of cum shot up and then back down onto my fist.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I mumbled, my eyelids threatening to close at the exhaustion that came with my most intense orgasm for the past month.
“Me? You’re the one who started dirty talking!” I watched C stand up from her bed, going to her bathroom, no doubt to clean herself up.
“Fine. Fair point,” I conceded, wiping away the evidence of my own mess.
I let the call stay on, my ears straining to hear the gentle sounds of her movements, perhaps her clothes rustling as she cleaned herself.
We both sank back into the soft comfort of our beds, pajamas on, as we tried to process what had just happened.
“Crap. There’s no going back for us now, is there?”
“No,” I replied instantly, matter-of-factly. “And I like it that way.”
