Page 3 of Hung Up

“You’ve been naughty, darling.”

My pussy throbbed, slick already gathering. His voice was like rocks crashing around in a tumbler and his words demanded my response.

“But I thought I was always your good girl,” I teased.

His dark chuckle reverberated in my pulse, it’s racing rhythm daring me to chase. “Oh, darling, you most certainly are.”

My head tilted to the ceiling, my lips parting as I felt his words roll over me.

Thirty-five minutes later and I was out of breath, my chest heaving as I recovered from the last orgasm. Ezra’s time had been up for over five minutes, but I could never bring myself to call it with him. My soaking pussy pulsed as aftershocks hit me one after the other. Twin pants matched mine as Ezra came down with me.

“Friday?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath. Fingers from my left hand trailed up my body, tweaking my right nipple as my hips bucked. It was only Monday, and I waited with baited breath for his response.

“It’s a date,” he chuckled, before hanging up. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, a crushing reminder that I was alone. Had been alone. Will be alone.

And I was still horny.

I groaned and my teeth found my bottom lip in a rough embrace. The spark of pain reignited my fire, and juices from my pussy slipped through my crack, puddling beneath me.

Thank god for mattress protectors.

I slammed the phone onto the receiver, cringing slightly at the sound of plastic cracking. Shit.

I lifted the phone again, inspecting for any damage. It couldn’t be broken, right? My fingers wobbled at the thought.

Its two bulbous heads appeared fine, and the seam didn’t look broken. The slim handle also was undamaged, the plastic grooves computing as something entirely different in my mind while I was still under Ezra’s spell.

Did Ezra have a six-pack? I wondered as a finger traced the grooves of the handle and over the top of one of the bulbous heads.

Did Ezra have a fat cock?

My curious finger turned into a seeking hand. While I held the phone from the other end, my right hand caressed the top of the phone as if it were a cock, twisting and squeezing the length as if it were flesh and blood. Lightning crackled under my skin, my hips rutting as I jerked off my phone.

The phone that had been there for me every minute of every day for the last four years. The phone that listened to my most intimate conversations.

The absurdity of my actions eclipsed me. I didn’t know what came over me.

Trailing the top of my phone across my body, I circled my needy nipples one after the other. Goosebumps rippled over my skin, my hairs standing on end. As the phone traveled down the curve of my body, I fell into what I could only describe as a state of bliss.

When the tip pressed against my opening, I moaned like a needy whore.

When it slipped into me straight to the bottom receiver, I nearly blacked out.

Fucking myself with my hot pink princess phone, I turned the phone so the head was facing upwards. The curve of the phone hit my G-spot on every thrust, as I cried out and bit my plump bottom lip.

My free hand slithered down my body to press against my lower abdomen, pushing gently against the soft skin. Through my belly, I felt the curve of the phone inside of me. It was so obscene . . .

I fucked myself harder, rubbing my clit in tight circles as I thrust the phone inside of me. Drawing up to that edge, I threw myself over without a second thought.

Light went dark, sound went silent, and I came harder than I’d ever come before. After a few breaths, I slowly pulled the phone from my cunt. It was dripping with my cum, and I . . . was curious.

Slowly, I stuck a hesitant tongue out. I was . . . salty. I was sweet?

Fuck, I was good.

My lips parted and I wrapped them around the head, as far as I could wrap it, sucking my cum off the phone. It was like something had awoken in me.

But after a few more licks, I pulled my face away. The haze cleared and my hands trembled.

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