Her spinning fingers.

It was almost midnight when, earlier last week, she and I were on the phone together. She's been calling from time to time, and it's been terrific to hear from her and discuss things. I like it. We shared that we missed one another.

"I'm horny," Shayne whimpered.

"Mmm, I see," said I. "You know, I miss holding you, caressing you, feeling you naked beside me. I miss kissing you: your lips are so exquisite. I miss the feeling of you beside me in the morning. And I miss going down on you, baby, probing that gorgeous pussy of yours with my tongue, my kisses. I love stroking your amazing clit with my tongue. She's delightful."

"Oh, stop," she giggled. She was cradling her cellphone in her hand, and I could easily picture her under her covers, nude, a cat at her feet.

"She is! Your clit amazes me. It's round, like a pebble, and I love feeling it between my lips as I suck on it slowly, gently. I love the scent of your skin, the warmth of you as I taste you. And I really miss feeling you against me as I start to take you, slide the tip of my cock into you. I love to fuck you, babe."

"Tell me that again," she asked. She was breathless. She had started to jill herself.

"I love to fuck you. When the tip of my cock parts you open, and when I watch you gasp as I take you, I'm speechless. I like to hold you tight as you get the full girth of me, parting you, making you full. I love when your wetness seethes along the length of me, and your bare ass is met with my slapping balls when I mount you."

I heard her whimper some more. Her breathing was shaken.

"And your ass, baby. I miss fucking you in your ass."

"Tell me that again," she repeated, imploringly.

"Shayne, I want to fuck you in the ass. In your tight, beautiful ass. Feel my cockhead slip past your winking sphincter, baby, and feel my girth inside you. I love it when you raise your ass in the air to meet me, when you feel my balls slapping against your skin, when you open up for me. I like it when your tight hole grips me, slowly yields to me as my wet and thick cock pumps into your depths..."

I heard her breath quicken now, the stuttering whimpers and whispers that told me she was starting to cum. I coaxed her, spoke to her in clear and gentle tones, using my voice to inspire her blurring fingers as they spun moist circles at her folds. I easily imagined how she looked, her hand swirling her flesh and her mound glistening with desire, desire for my gifts. I closed my eyes and savoured the familiar sounds of her riding waves in her orgasm. She whimpered, cooed, shuddered, gasped with closed eyes and her neck bent, the top of her head against her pillow. I could see it all again.

I love to make her cum.

"You're either very lucky, or I'm crazy," she said afterward. We're discussing seeing one another again. She misses me. I miss her. The context would probably be a little different, but I'm intrigued.



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