Page 49 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

“Baby, this is a two-way street,” she purrs. “You give me the road map of you, tell me all of your secret turn-ons, all the fine and naughty details. Then I take advantage of that information every chance I get. You’ll thank me. Profusely. Tell me, Henry. Don’t make me use my powers for evil. I will, you know I will.”

She absolutely will, no doubt about it. “Please don’t. I can’t handle days of you edging me again,” I say with an appropriate amount of fear. That was one incredible, sexy, very hot week, but it was so hard. So incredibly hard.

“In the end, I didn’t tell you my middle names anyway.”

Kait with an arsenal of all of the things that make my toes curl? I shiver in anticipation. Sign me up. Or that’s what I should say, but I hesitate. “Kait, there’s nothing. I don’t have a major kink that I’m hiding from you. I’m all for you tying me to my bed and having your way with me, but I don’t want to go to a dungeon. I’m open to dirty talk and trying lots of new things. I’ve never wanted to be pegged, but people tell me that rimming is insane. I’ve never had sex in public, I’ve never tied a woman down… Why are you giggling?”

I’m nervous word vomiting, and she’s amused.

“Kait,” I say primly, “you aren’t a safe space if you laugh at me when I tell you things.”

“Henry,” she says back, mocking me with her equally prim tone. “You’re babbling. If you’ve never played with your ass or let anyone have a go at your prostate, you should consider it. I’m told it’s life-changing. Gay butts and straight butts, same butts. And bondage? Sign me up.”

What’s the appropriate response to that? “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Kait is a master of manipulating me and unrepentant, more amused with each passing second.

“Fine. Stop giggling.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll tell you the only thing that comes to mind.”

“I’m listening.”

I say it fast, to get it out before I think better of it. “I might be into chaps.”

“I’m assuming you mean leather pants with fringe all down the side and not men?” she asks, but she knows the answer because she keeps going, “Give me all of the details.”

“The fringe is called whang. There’s your random factoid for today.”

“Spoken like a true connoisseur of chaps.”

Like a water tower toppling over in a tornado, it all spills out. “You, wearing chaps,” I say. “Maybe a string bikini top and bottom, maybe a cowboy hat—that’s optional. You sweet-talk me into letting you tie my wrists to the headboard. You use two of my most expensive ties to tie me up, because you’re you, and it’s on brand.”

She chuckles. She knows I’m right.

“You use a third tie to blindfold me. You tease me, taking the fringe and dragging it against my skin. Rubbing your nipple against my lips through the bikini fabric. Ruthless teasing, pinching my nipples, and nibbling on my neck. Stripping me out of my boxers. Kneeling between my legs and stroking me.”

“Oh… I like the sound of this,” she says, her voice scratchy.

“I can smell the leather, your skin against mine, and you torment me. Of course, you don’t let me finish. No, you stand up in front of me and start to drag the strings of your bikini bottom over me while you tell me each tiny detail of untying the imaginary but very challenging knots in the strings of your bikini while I wait impatiently for you to take it off.” I imagine the gentle brush of the strings as she trails them over my nipples, shoulder, my lips, and I have to stop, or I’m going to come in my pants. “That’s it, uh, chaps,” I say as I work hard to disguise the quiver in my voice.

“Henry, I can really work with this!”

“I have complete faith in you, babe.”

“I could ride you wearing chaps. You’ll feel the leather against your skin.” I make an involuntary sound that can only be categorized as a whimper.

“Once I untie my bikini bottom, I’m bare but wearing the chaps. I tease us both, rubbing your sensitive head against my clit. If I wiggle a tiny bit, I’ll have you inside me,” she says, her words make my cock throb with my heartbeat. “Like that, Henry? Did I get it right?”

“Y… yes.”

I imagine her happily wearing chaps, shaking her bare ass to tease me. Real me doesn’t dare move a finger. The things she told me, coupled with the things I want, it’s a heady combination, and if I move wrong, the friction will end me. If she really wants hard and fast, the chaps would be like lighting a bonfire under rocket fuel.

“Henry, I want to grab your cock and guide it down so you start to nudge inside me.”

“No,” I whisper.

“Henry, don’t you want to fuck me while I wear these absurdly hot chaps?”

“I do, but I want…” I can’t word well. “I’d want to see you.”