Say those words. You know the ones.
Direct my movements. Tell me what to do.
Call me names. Call me yours.
I can't touch myself without you.
I don't want to.
Your voice, deep, gravelly, warm, fills my mind.
Your words, filthy, strong, confident, guide my hand.
I close my eyes and pretend you're next to me.
The phone disappears. The crackling line falls away.
Right here, right now, you and I are together.
Distance is meaningless.
My imagination takes over.
It's not my hand, but yours. Not my will, but yours.
Don't stop. Keep talking. Let me pretend this is real.
The spasms between my thighs,
The clenching deep inside,
The pulsing under my hand,
All of it is real and true, and at your command.
Even if all I have are your words.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! This week's prompt takes me back to the long-distance days when the only way John Brownstone and I could play was over the phone. (Side note: right after we moved in together, it was very difficult to masturbate without his voice in my ear as it had been for 18 months prior.) Not a lot of smut going on over here as a nasty cold has ripped through our house, but thankfully, I have plenty of memories to draw upon. If you want more (and who wouldn't?), make sure to check out the other smut available on this fine Masturbation Monday.