Mareyn Scott Yes Erotic Story Competition Story 18
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It was a slow burn.
A simmering arousal all week, talking to this guy, this stranger who not only seems to be a sensual person, but someone who purports to be looking for intimacy, not just sex, but also someone who knows the scene. Like, really.
So all this factors in, and my own space and physical desires and it’s late Friday night and I decide to just take the phone into bed, rather than lying on the couch.
I think in some ways I know what this means, I know where I’m going with this but I slide into bed anyway, clothes off, already aroused and tingling from the sexual questions, the conversations we have scattered in amongst the other talk, my body already keyed up and … like I said… simmering.
I don’t know what we’re talking about but at some point I roll over onto my stomach and something presses up against something else and all of a sudden things feel really good. I don’t say anything, just take a moment or two to enjoy that, because yes, it feels good… arousal does, and I like it.
And still, it’s late, and I don’t remember the conversation, I just know I’m pretty relaxed, pretty aroused… it could go either way. But my brain is clicking into his voice, and the tingles are travelling around and I’m running my finger along my arm because my skin is alive and when I skim my finger over the palm of my other hand, the phone in the crook of my neck as his voice purrs away in my ear, my entire hand shivers. It’s like being high.
And it’s all just very mellow. “Comfy” he calls it. This sort of quiet, calm, but still sexual feeling. I don’t know exactly where he’s at, although he tells me, but I know where I’m at and I love that that’s what’s on the forefront of my mind.
So I slide my finger under my panties, against my clit and I know that won’t get me anywhere too far, but again, it feels good. And does it feel good because he doesn’t know? Or because he will know? Or does it even matter? It’s where I want to be, in this state of arousal. Not just some of me, just a heavy coating of it everywhere.
I can smell it on me.
He says he wonders how I smell, what my scent is. I don’t tell him that right now I smell fucking amazing. That I’d fuck me right now, no question.
The conversation shifts again, we’re comfortable going there, and I’m in this not-stuck-in-my-head zone where if he asks the right questions, he’ll get the reaction. But I don’t tell him this. We still have to meet, after all, see where things go. Or not.
He knows what I’m doing, and I feel like I could steer the conversation to a place where we’d both get off, but I don’t. We still have to meet each other… that thought is still alive, even in my blissed out state.
I stop for a while, laughing at how I become suddenly much more coherent and then I realize that I want to cum. It’s going to happen tonight before I sleep, and why not just … get to it.
So I do. I grab my little friend, the silver guy and I start. And I’m trying to be quiet about it, but like I said, it’s been a slow burn… a long time on a low heat.
He’s tired… he’s getting off the phone, needs to sleep, hasn’t been feeling his best, but a sigh slips out, maybe a small gasp, an intake of air held just a little too long and he pauses… “are you close?” Yes, I say, pushing the bullet harder against my clit…
“Do you want me to stay on the phone?” Yes, I whisper, quietly. It still being hard to ask for what I know I want.
And he does. He stays on the phone. And he doesn’t need to say much, I just know by the tone of his voice that he’s not going anywhere just this minute.
And I’m feeling perfect, riding it closer and closer, making sure my mind doesn’t suddenly chip in with “Do you know what you’re doing and why it’s stupid?” and then he says “Cum.”
And my brain shuts off.
Because he says “Cum” and I think “Yes”
And I’m right there… and I want to ask him, I want to ask him to tell me again… but I don’t…. quite… because, well we haven’t met yet… and I still have my walls up, the cautionary voice isn’t completely silent, out of necessity, so I don’t, because I know if I do and he says that to me again with that voice, in that way I’m hooped. And I’m not willing to go there. I’m not giving him this orgasm, not yet. That’s going to be a slow burn too. That one’s going to be a killer.
But I do… I cum… pushed over the edge by him asking/telling…. neither of those words are quite right. But I know he knows. And I don’t care. Or I do… I can’t explain it.
But I orgasm, a series of nice, little, not quiet, but good little jolts, and I hear him, in my ear, all I hear “mmmmmm” and he’s a whole different energy from my last lover in this moment, and the only way I can describe it is he’s a man.
I don’t sleep well that night although I’m resting and good. I don’t sleep because I keep waking up, half waking anyway, and I hear his voice again… “Cum”, and I can’t explain to anyone who isn’t … similarly inclined…. the effect. It’s not the fact that he identifies as a D type at times, because we’re not there. But it’s not ignorable either. So I keep hearing him say it and my pussy jumps… clenches… tingles… and I have to shift positions, roll over, something, and settle my mind again.
But I wake up, and he’s texted… he checked in…
And the slow simmer starts all over again.
