There is a huge smile on my face. I hung up and plugged in my phone to charge; it was so low it was notifying me while the call was ongoing. I should get up to pee, or wasn’t I feeling very pressed just a minute ago? It must have been the orgasm, scratch that, orgasms I got from just having my fingers all over while talking to him. He whispered all kinds of things he wanted to do to me and listened to me moan all the way to orgasm.
I am in a hotel room on a king-sized bed, alone and horny as horny gets. I play multiple scenarios in my head. My finger is on my clit and I imagine us having a conversation as he casually slips his fingers into my panties. I don’t want it taken off. I want him to shift it to the side while I (for whatever reason) try to continue the conversation in between moans and heavy breaths and he is urging me to continue my incoherent talk.
I imagine that he is standing behind me while I am busy working on my laptop wearing a low cut lingerie revealing my entire cleavage. I think of him sliding his hands into them and holding both boobs while asking me what I am working on and whispering about how soft they are while rubbing my areolas. I want to have no recollection of how he successfully removed the top and how somehow I am lying on my back on the bed.
Other times, I think of sleeping next to him with nothing but the duvet as cover and waking up to his mouth owning my entire vajayjay. He slowly parts my legs now that I am awake and takes his time to tease me senseless with pauses that drive me crazy. He introduces fingers and tongue in a rhythm that makes me say things I am very shy about… about ten minutes after.
I think about him bending me over, sliding his dick into me and thrusting slowly, building the tempo and asking me if I like it. I say yes and he is asking me if I want him to stop and I almost cry no. He tells me how wet and good this feels and I tighten myself around him, wanting all of him inside me and never wanting him to come out again. He flips me to the other side, does this magic trick where he elevates himself and thrusts higher and my screams go higher too.
I fantasize about meeting him after a very long time, jumping on him and telling him how badly I miss him in between kisses. We tear our clothes off each other’s bodies and my boobs yearn for his chest and we hug each other tightly and, in that moment, he is all I ever want to call home. He slides in effortlessly because I am a fucking fountain down there. I hold him tightly as the thrusts build up and wonder how I even cope without seeing him for so long.
My eyes are closed, my fingers are busy, the peak is close and the orgasms are powerful. I scream his name as hard as they hit me, pulling the covers of this bed from both corners. I promise myself I will get a vibrator, the same way I promised myself two months ago. I reach for my phone to take pictures of the explosion and the remnants of milky traces it leaves. “I can’t wait to see you, baby”, I text him. “Come home to me”, he replies.