Tuesday’s rhythmic breathing fills the silence.
“Now your hips. Let them sink into the bed. Feel the warmth move down your thighs, past your knees, all the way to your toes as it carries the tension out of your body and replaces it with a peaceful heaviness. Let it ease into your bones.”
I drift in the quiet for a few minutes and almost feel myself floating. The darkness behind my eyelids provides a safe place to hide.
“Now that we cleared out the stress, let’s build a different kind of energy. One you can control.”
He pauses, letting the command hang in the air.
“Since you have your hands tucked away already, move them down, Zo. Feel the band of your pants.”
I move my hands beneath the weighted blanket, my fingers brushing against the soft fabric of my sweats.
“Slide your hand under the waistband, Zo.”
I slip my hand past the elastic of my sweats and then my underwear. I don’t move the covers. I just sink deeper into the mattress. I spread my legs under the weight of the blanket.
“Take two fingers and slide them down to your entrance. Just trace the opening. Use your own slick to coat your folds.”
I follow his lead, my movements turning into a slow, steady rhythm. Pleasure begins to spread through my body, settling in my belly.
“Such a good Omega.”
I shiver at the praise.
“Now follow your slit upwards, Zo. Find your clit.”
I drag my fingers through my folds following the line until I find the sensitive nub.
“Circle it. Really slow. Count the seconds out loud for me. Four seconds for every rotation.”
“One,” I whisper into the quiet room. I move my finger in a slow, agonizing circle. The heat from my skin radiates upward, trapped by the heavy blanket.
Tuesday’s breath catches. A rhythmic rustle of fabric joins the sound of his slightly ragged breathing. I recognize that sound. He touches himself while he talks me through this. My heart hammers a rhythm against my ribs at the realization.
“Two.” I keep the pace steady despite the sudden spike in my heart rate. The sound of his mounting need feeds mine.
“Three.” I drag my fingers through the slickness, tracing the sensitive nub. The rustle of his movements on the other end of the line gets louder, faster.
“Four.” The rotation finishes, leaving me trembling and desperate for his next instruction.
“Think about my hand hovering over yours.” Tuesday’s voice drops into a dark, strained rasp. The sound of his own pleasure through the speakers makes my skin flush hot under the blanket. The tingling returns, stronger now. I feel the phantom heatguide the movement of my wrist.
“Now, more pressure. Press upward. Find the rhythm that makes your toes curl.”
I press my fingers against the sensitive bud with a desperate force. The friction creates a wet, rhythmic sound I knowhe can hear. Tuesday’s breathing turns into a series of shallow gasps. I can hear him now, his fist moving over his cock. I match his speed, my body arching under the weight of the blanket as I chase the release.
“Harder, Zo.”
My fingers move in a frantic blur. The sound of him on the other end speeds up.
“Don’t hold back. Come with me, Zo.”
The orgasm crashes over me.“Fuck, Tuesday!” My heels dig into the mattress as my muscles lock up with pleasure. In the middle of the peak, my eyes fly open and look at him, wanting to see him come.
He throws his head back, his hand moving in a blur before his whole body tenses. He finishes, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as ropes of cum coat his stomach and hand. The sight causes a second, smaller release to roll through me. We finish together.
A wonderful peace replaces the noise in my head.
