Me:You wouldn’t want to do the job of getting me ready? That makes me sad :(
Mr. Wrong Number:No, I wouldn’t. Because once I walk through that door, you’re mine. I’m going to spin you around, bend you over, and fuck you so hard you’ll be clawing at the walls to get away from me. So you’ll need to be ready.
I moan, liquid heat pooling between my legs. My fingers dip down to get wet, and I slide them up, then back down, pushing two fingers inside me. I arch my back, gasping at the intrusion.
Mr. Wrong Number:I can’t wait to feel you around me. I’m going to fill you with every fucking drop, sweetheart, and get started on that big family with both want. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m wasting another fucking minute waiting for the rest of my life to start. The moment I see you, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself. I don’t think I’ll be able to savor and take my time. I’ll need to rip your clothes off and feel your body against mine, immediately. I’ll need to be insideyou, driving into what’s mine. Against the wall, on the floor, whatever the nearest surface is, you’ll be against it.
“Fuck,” I moan into the empty room, plunging my fingers in and out, needing more.
I need him.
Opening my drawer, I slap my hand around until I feel the thick toy. Wrapping my hand around it, I pull it out, click the button for the video on my phone, and aim it between my legs.
Spreading my thighs, I slip the long, thick dildo across my clit, then down my slick lips.
I groan. “I wish it was you stretching me.” At the same time, the toy disappears between my legs as I inch it inside me. “Ohhh. It feels so good. Come fuck me, I don’t know if I can wait anymore. Please. I need it to be you.” I slide the toy out, my voice a rasp as the head presses against my G-spot.
Fucking myself faster, I whimper, the stretch still not enough. All I can imagine is his cock. He’s thicker than any toy I have, and I know he would take my breath the moment he slides in. I crave it.
I turn my head, biting the pillow as I cry out, wanting him to hear what the thoughts of him do to me.
I send the video, then drop my phone on the bed, unable to focus when pleasure is overwhelming my body. I grab another toy, the suction one that will send me into fucking orbit. I press it against my swollen, sensitive slit, and turn it on. The vibration paired with fucking myself on the dildo has me fisting the comforter.
The toy tugs on my clit, sucking it with the quick vibration setting. My face becomes hot, my mouth opens, the warning signs of an orgasm molten under my skin.
Snagging my phone when he messages back, I hurry to click the video he sent.
“Oh, fuck,”he whispers, fucking his fist hard and fast.“I’m not going to last. Not when you’re begging me for me like that, sweetheart. Fuck. I’d give anything between your legs. The moment I am, I know I’m never going to leave. Imagine it’s me fucking you. Imagine it’s my cock that’s going to give you an ache tomorrow. Imagine me like I’m imagining you. I’m going to come. Fuck! I’m going to fucking come.”He grunts as spurts of white shoot into the toilet he’s standing over. He continues to stroke himself, never stopping the hard, quick pace. More cum spills free, wasted as it falls into the water and not in me.
“Yes, oh, fuck, yes. I’m going…you’re going to make me…” My toes curl and my back bends when my orgasm tenses every muscle in my body. Wave after wave of pleasure swarms me. My mind becomes blank and I can’t remember to breathe while pulses of the orgasm travel from head to toe.
I collapse in the bed, the foam mattress hugging me from all positions. Lying here in bliss, almost drugged with pleasure, my body seeps further into the bed. I feel like I’m being swallowed whole.
Me:You might be the death of me.
I aim the phone at the dildo that’s still between my legs and I record myself pulling it free. It’s soaked, shining from my cum, and I twirl it against the light so he can see how he has made it glimmer.
And I press send.
“Wow,” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling.
If phone sex is this good, how will the real thing be?
Mr. Wrong Number:You’re the killer here. I’m barely getting by. I’m not sure how this will be enough. I’ll need to see you soon. I’m fucking dying, sweetheart. I feel like if I don’t touch you, that might be the end of me.
Me:I feel the exact same.
Mr. Wrong Number:What’s your address? I want to deliver my replica cock. It won’t be me, but it’s as close as possible. I fucking hate knowing you have a toy that isn’t me. This way, I can be there in spirit.
A loud laugh escapes me at that.
Me:I can’t wait to get ghost fucked by you, then.
Mr. Wrong Number:The ghost of me will have to do. Good for him. I’m jealous.
I roll my eyes, giggling at how ridiculous this conversation has turned.
I love it. I never want it to end.
