Kiss Me through the Phone

I’m on a public bus

in a hostel common room

in a café

when my phone rings; he’s video calling me.  My heart rate increases, the beat staccato in my chest.  I hastily slide my thumb up the screen, eager to see his massive hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it for my viewing pleasure.  Sometimes I get wet at the thought of someone else catching a glimpse.

He puts a finger to his lips to demand silence before placing his phone against a wall and resuming his wank.  He’s

at a friend’s house

in a locker room

in a department store changing room

and he’s achingly close.  His long eyelashes flutter and his lips part.  His body rumbles and quakes as semen charges, then oozes out of him.  I ache to lick it off him.

I know this isn’t phone sex in the traditional sense, but technically we’re using our phones?  Then how about this:

Two weeks ago, his mates were staying over at his for a night; they’d all gotten blasted, and he was walking home from the chippy when he gave me a ring.  I started telling him all the things I couldn’t wait to do to him when I arrived in the UK.  He kicked a friend out of his bed when he got home so he could have the room to himself.  Lying in the dark, he whispered all the things I wanted to hear: He’d turn my cheeks to apples, pin my arms with his knees so he could stuff my mouth with his cock, continue licking me no matter how many times I urged him to stop so he could fuck me.  It was a hot summer evening on my end; I, too, isolated myself in the cave of my room, hoping I was quiet enough when my body shuddered and I came all over my hands, the phone pressed tight between my shoulder and my ear, listening to his heavy breathing and whimpers.

We need this.

I’ve been with The Engineer for fifteen months – all of them long-distance.  Phone sex, along with other lusty activities like sharing blog posts and sending dirty pictures, keeps us erotically charged and connected over the 4,000 miles that separate us.  We keep our hearts linked as well – but as we’re both people whose hearts are tethered to our genitals, a transfer of sexual energy is a must.

When I hear his deep voice telling me that he’s touching himself, I often have to excuse myself so that I can do the same… or at least to whisper threats and promises.

15 thoughts on “Kiss Me through the Phone

  1. kinkyandperky

    Oh, yes so much of this is so familiar – heart-pounding suddenness and immediacy of being in the moment, the transcendent reality of both being there with the actual person and yet removed; the beautiful release that comes out of the blue. All so good x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This reminds me of the long distance times that Michael and I shared. We relied on skype pretty much exclusively but sharing that across the miles was a wonderful thing, it taught us a great deal about communicating our desires to one another


    Liked by 1 person

    1. YES! An *emphatic* yes to this – we learn so much about communicating with each other because we have to rely on our words when we don’t have physical touch to get us through.


  3. This reminds me of when we used the phone to communicative all the time at the start of our relationship. Now that we are together most of the time we haven’t needed it but you have made me miss that erotic charge that came from it 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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  5. I’m not very good at verbal words, I stumble over myself and feel awkward. Give me written words anyway. Sexting is definitely my preference, I can add images in if I want to but most of all it gives me time to think what I’m trying to say.

    Liked by 1 person

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