There is a pause, and then the dialling tone begins, distant and tinny. Your voice answers, cautious.
“Who is this?”
“I think you know,” I reply.
You chuckle. I love the way you laugh, that rich deep womanly voice of yours.
I ask if you are alone.
“Yes,” you reply. “He is out in the garden, doing some jobs. I have a little time.”
I ask if you are wearing the clothes I asked you to put on for me.
“Yes. Black stockings, suspenders, frilly black knickers, and the lacy bra. Nothing else.”
“The clothes from yesterday’s photographs?”
“That’s right. I hope you liked them?”
“God yes, I was stiff within seconds, looking at those pictures. You make me so darned horny.”
I can hear your breathing down the phone, tense with excitement. There is a slight catch in your voice, nerves perhaps.
You ask where I am.
“In the office in London . Everyone else has left. I’m on my own, more or less. If anyone walks past they will think I’m doing some paperwork, some late-night research on an upcoming legal case. What time is it there?”
You tell me that it is early afternoon in Pennsylvania . The time gap is about six hours.
I am trying to picture you, in your upstairs bedroom of your large family house, alone, husband outside, mowing the lawn or cutting back some shrubs. It’s dark and cold here in England. It must still be bright and sunny where you are.
I ask you to look in the mirror and tell me what you can see.
There is a pause; and then your now familiar American drawl.
“I see a woman, dressed up in black underwear. Her long dark hair tied up. Fresh red lipstick on. She looks like a real slut.” You laugh. “She looks like someone who is about to get a good, thorough fucking. She’s good-looking, maybe a bit on the large side, maybe a bit old.”
No, no, I say. 43 is not old. Older than me, for sure; but not old. And no, no, my slut is not too large. You are curvy, for sure, with delicious curves in all the right places. You are just right.
“Ha! Such an English charmer…you know how to say all the right things,” you murmur down the phone. “What are you wearing?”
A sharp-cut black suit, I say. Crisp white shirt, black tie, black shoes. And beneath it, black Calvin Kleins.
“I wish you were here.”
“I would slam you against the wall and kiss you.”
“My fingers in your hair, my mouth against yours, our tongues inter-twined. My chest pressed against your cleavage. One hand on your arse.”
“Oh God yes.”
“I wouldn’t care that your husband was outside in the garden. In fact, it would be quite the turn-on. I like the fact that you are a slut wife.”
“Oh fuck. David. I love it”
I like the way you pronounce that word, you slur it.
“On your knees. That’s what I would say.”
“I unzip myself for you, reach inside.”
“And pull it out, seven inches of hard English cock, hold it just inches from your face, and I would offer it to you to suck.”
“I would beg.”
“You bahis firmaları would, that’s right Mrs Bowers. You would tell me how much you wanted my hard dick in your mouth. Please, you would say.”
“Please. I need your cock.”
“You would call me Master, though, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would. Please, Master, can I suck your hard cock?”
I can picture you in that room, getting so excited, I know from your breathing that you are already quite worked up.
“How about right now? How are you feeling? Are you wet for me?”
Yes, you say, you tell me you are all slippery between your legs.
I tell you that you can touch yourself while you lick the hard purple mushroom-head of my cock. On your knees in front of your Master
“I loved the photos you took of your wet pussy, of your dildo right up yourself,” I say, trying to sound calm, not betraying my own excitement. “In particular, I loved the ones of you fingering yourself with your wedding-ring finger.”
“Oh God, I’m so bad,” you reply.
“No. You’re good. You’re fucking good. Such a naughty, good slut. I loved it. Where is Pretend Master right now?”
You tell me you can see him mowing the lawn outside, there’s not much chance of him coming back into the house.
“You might want to lock the door of the bedroom though?”
“There is no lock.”
“Ha! So you might get caught. I bet you love that though, don’t you? The danger? The risk of getting caught. Such a naughty slut.”
“Yes, that’ probably true,” you say.
You tell me that you are sat at your dressing table with a view past the mirror to the garden, sat in your underwear, with one hand between your legs.
“I hope you haven’t touched your cunt yet?” I ask, slightly sharply.
“No, of course not. Not without Master’s permission,” you reply. “But I have rubbed myself, ever so slightly, through my knickers.”
“And no doubt you are….slightly damp.”
“David, darling. Per-lease. I am fucking soaking already.”
“Peel the knickers to one side….you can stroke your cunt lips if you want.”
“Thank you Master,” you reply.
“But you can’t put your fingers up there, or anything else. Not until I say yes.”
You groan, with frustration. I know how turned on you are. I feel the same way. But I am at an office desk, at work, there is no way I can relieve myself, all I can do is listen to you giving yourself relief. I wish you knew how desperately I wished I was there, pleasing you myself, not just with words, but with my fingers, tongue and cock.
I continue down the phone. “So where were we? You, on your knees like a dog. My poor horny fuckslut, opening her mouth to take Master’s dick deep inside.”
“Yes,” you whisper. “Sucking Master off like a good girl, licking all over, stroking your balls, working you with my tongue. You taste so good.”
I love your American pronunciation, it drives me wild every time.
“And where do you want my come?” I ask.
“In my mouth. I want you to drain your balls in my mouth….give it to me,” kaçak iddaa you beg. “Please, Master?”
“Are you rubbing your cunt lips now?” I ask.
I tell you to hold the phone between your legs while you masturbate.
It sounds so slippery and wet, even down the long-distance phone line. A squelching noise.
“God you sound horny,” I say. “Someone is feeling quite excited today. I can’t wait to hear you come later.”
“I could come quite soon. I’m so aroused.”
I tell you to get on all fours, submissive, and to spread your legs for Master. There is a minute’s silence while you comply. I know you’ve put on your hands-free headset, just as I wanted. I picture those big ti*ts, that I have seen so many times in photographs, in videos that you have sent me as little treats. I imagine them swinging, bulging out of your bra, as you crouch there waiting for my instructions.
You’re back on the line, so I carry on. “I want you to imagine that I’m behind you, licking your thighs, just teasing you, your hands on the rug in the bedroom. The bedroom you share with your husband of 10 years. You’re letting your English lover pleasure you from behind. Licking up towards your wet cunt. I love the scent of your pussy.”
You are moaning, but otherwise silent.
“You gasp as I nudge your cunt lips with my tongue, and slide it between them. I pleasure you for ages, tonguing you, enjoying your pink slippery flesh against my mouth. Peeling you open with my fingers while giving you head. And then, sliding up to your arsehole, teasing it just with the tip of my tongue.”
“Oh God, David, that’s so good…I love that. I’m touching my pussy right now.”
“You need permission”
“Please. Please Master, let me finger myself.”
“Oh please, God, I need to be filled, please Sir.”
“Okay, you asked nicely, so you can do it. Go on, Mrs Bowers.” I put a heavy emphasis on the word ‘Mrs’. “Two fingers, right up your own needy cu*nt. Imagine it’s my tongue and fingers.”
I can hear you making a slight adjustment. And then just sighs and groans.
I know you have got your rabbit vibrator near you.
“I’m licking your arsehole and sticking two fingers up your wet pussy,” I say. “You seem to like it.”
“Oh yes, I like it.” Pause. “Oh fuck, yes, David, more. Tongue me.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Stick your tongue up there….up my…up my arse. God I love that. You are such a dirty bastard.”
“Thank you for shaving your pussy the other day,” I say.
“Oh that…that was nothing.”
“What did he say? Your husband I mean.”
“He was kind of surprised, but I think he likes it.”
“I loved it. And I loved the fact that you did it for me, to please me.”
You ask where I am. Still at my desk, I say, feet on the table, phone against one ear. I am looking out across the city of London but my mind is in that bedroom in Pennsylvania .
“I have to have you,” I say. “I can’t wait any longer.”
I tell you that I’m about to mount you like a dog. That kaçak bahis I need to be inside you. “Spread wide,” I say.
“Oh fuck yes please,” you reply. You say you’re still on all fours on the bedroom carpet, waiting to take my hardness.
“Your arse is up in the air, so need. I rub my length against your wet cunt” I say. “Just teasing you, making sure you’re wet enough for me. That you are ready to receive Master.”
“I’m ready, of course I’m ready, please, just please fucking fuck me,” you say. I love it when you sound like this. When the need takes over, and all you can think of is your own satisfaction.
“Get the rabbit,” I say. “Turn it on. And hold the end against your pussy hole for me.”
I hear you switch it on. The vibrations are very loud. I hope you’ve got the window closed, otherwise hubbie is going to hear everything.
“It’s there,” you whisper. “I can’t bear this any longer. I’ve got to have you inside me.”
“I’m thrusting into you, so slowly…..really slowly.”
“Yes, fuck me baby, do it.”
“Have you got the vibrator inside you yet baby?”
“Good slut. Now take it real deep, and move it in and out. I’m inside you, riding you, my mouth against your neck and shoulders, kissing you, biting you. I appreciate you in a way that he doesn’t. I want you so badly, carnally, I’m swollen with lust and I’m fucking you like a man possessed. Faster now, much faster.”
“Oh…fuck… oh yes…”
“Beg for it, slut.”
“Do me, yes, do me, fuck me Master. Harder.”
“I’m licking a finger, and I’m pressing it against your arse while I plough your cunt.”
“You’re opening up….your arse…to receive me. Darling, I want you to do that now, with your other hand. Lick your finger and push it up your arse”
“I’m doing that. I’ve still got the rabbit right up my pussy, and I’m now fingering my bottom. Oh. Oh God. That’s good.”
“Do you want my cum?”
“Yes, I want it, I want you to empty your balls in me. I want it, David. Fuck me harder. Oh yes.”
“Say please, Mrs Bowers”.
“Oh please, yes, fuck me please!”
I tell you that I’m right up you, all seven inches, my balls banging against your clit, one hand against your mouth, with my fingers between your teeth. And I’ve got my other hand against your big arse, fingering you’re anus.
“What was that noise in the background?”
“The front door. I think he’s come inside. What should I do?”
“Baby I’m inside you, we can’t stop now, I’m going to cum inside you, going to flood your wet pussy with thick white spunk. Do it….come for me.”
You start to groan, harder, moaning, and then I hear you tense up .
“Fuck….oh fuck….yesssss.” you hiss. “That’s it, oh, oh God. Got to keep quiet, got to….nnnnnnn.”
I’m still sat at my desk, in my suit, phone in one hand. The only clue to my arousal, the tenting in my trousers. And maybe I’m flushed in the cheeks.
“Good girl,” I say. “That’s it. Good girl. God I adore playing with you.”
You groan, quieter now. And then a new urgency in your voice.
“I have to go, love,” you say, whispering. “Soon, again.”
“Yes,” I say. “Good girl. You did well, for Master. Return again, soon.”
The phone clicks, off.