His Voice in My Ear Does Things To Me

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For nearly 18 months of my life, I woke up to a singular moment every morning…a sound that never failed to put a smile on my face.

“Good morning, babygirl.”

John Brownstone’s voice was my first real connection to him. Sure, we started with blog comments and emails. Later, when I felt brave, we sent text messages.

But the big leap of…faith? Connection? A willingness to try? Call it what you will, but it had to do with hearing his voice on the other end of the phone.

We never did do the Skype or FaceTime thing. Maybe our age was showing but our biggest form of communication, the way we learned the subtleties of each low moan or hitched breath was over the phone.

Over the phone, we had amazing experiences…

So. Much. Masturbation. Most of the time, he guided every second of it. Telling me where and how to touch myself.

“Pinch a nipple, girl.”

“I want one finger in your pussy.”

“Rub that clit.”

Like Pavlov’s dog, I drooled whenever the phone rang…but though I only knew for sure once I had permission to touch myself.

For a long time, I couldn’t masturbate without having his real or imagined voice in my ear. I needed his words and guidance. It was the easiest way for him to both big and little “d” dominate me. I touched myself at his pleasure, and I came at his pleasure.

Thankfully, multiple squirty orgasms from my body are some of his greatest pleasures.

Sometimes, rarely, he was in a place where he could touch himself. He talked and I listened…and moved my hand at his direction. I almost never knew what he was doing until I heard the hitch, the catch in his voice. Maybe he’d let a small moan out, unable to hold back any longer.  It always ended the same way.

“I feel better.” I knew he would.

It was me who encouraged him to masturbate more. When he couldn’t sleep. When his back hurt. And anytime we felt a little lonely for the other…which was always.

And all of it was by phone. Every. Single. Word.

When he came to visit, we put our phones down. I don’t remember masturbating when we were together. He had too many devious ideas to try while he had the chance.

Every time he drove (or flew) away, I cradled my phone, knowing that it would be the only way we could connect until we could be together again.

These days, I don’t talk on my phone much. I don’t masturbate much, either. But during the few times we’ve been apart since 2014, every “Hello, babygirl” makes me melt and relax into a familiar place. Even when it’s not about sex or masturbation, but a simple phone call, my body reacts…and waits. It knows what happens when his smooth, deep voice is in my ear.

Welcome to Wicked Wednesday! When I saw that this week’s prompt was about the telephone, my mind went one place – to the hundreds of phone calls we shared over 18 months in a long distance relationship. So many of them were sexy or kinky. I might not be much for strolling down memory lane or looking back, but those thoughts never fail to cause an immediate response. I’ll let you guess what kind it is.