Page 89 of Fun Together
“That’s good to know.” I hear splashes on his end, and I wonder if he’s washing himself now too. I am very turned on at the thought of him matching my movements.
“Put that leg under now and repeat on the other leg. Walk me through what you’re doing. This is a good way for me to see if you can articulate your processes to others.”
“First, I’m squirting more body wash into my hand and rubbing my hands together until they’re slick and slippery. Next, I’m slowly rubbing the soap up my leg, really focusing on my thigh.” The other night, that seemed to be a place he liked to touch, so I’m hoping he’ll like that I’m mentioning it. “In circular motions, I’m running my hand up inside my inner thigh, higher and higher, and?—”
“Stop. No higher.”
“But that’s normally the next part of my routine.” I whine.
“You have to answer another question first.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice. Oh, this is fun.
I sigh overdramatically. “Fine.”
“After our kiss on the couch, did you think about it?”
I wasn’t expecting this question, but I answer it without thinking. “Yes, with some embellishments. Might have pulled out the massager a time or two.”
He laughs and it echoes through the bathroom. It’s the best sound in the world, starting with a low rumble I feel right down to the core of me, before it erupts into this spark of energy that’s soEli, it’s the only way I know how to describe it.
“I like making you laugh,” I say. “Because you’re always the one making me laugh.”
“Making you laugh is my favorite thing. What did you imagine, when you thought about it?”
“You touching me.”
“Where do I touch you?”
“You pull the front of my dress down and palm my breasts in your hands.”
“Do kiss them? Lick them?”
“Yes.”
“While I’m doing that, do I pull the bottom of your dress up until I can touch between your legs?”
I lay my head back, finally rubbing my fingertips over my clit. “Yes.”
“Can I slide a finger inside to feel how wet you are for me?”
“Please,” I moan, pretending the middle finger I glide inside myself is his. “Are you touching yourself now?”
“Would you like me to?”
“Yes, I want us both to do it. Together.”
“I’d like that, too. You can ask me questions now. Keep fingering yourself.”
I take a ragged breath, trying to gain composure. “Right, so. Um, can you walk through what a ‘day in the life’ is like? Or, how a night would be . . . like . . . how things would continue tonight?”I can barely form a coherent thought, much less sentence, right now.
But he doesn’t miss a beat. “Next, I’d insert another finger inside you and stroke myself with my other hand using the same rhythm.”
The thought of that is almost enough to make me come. “That feels so good.”
“Don’t let yourself come yet. The interview isn’t over.”
“How long until the interview is over?”
He chuckles. “Until I say it is. Ask me another question. And quicken the motion of your hand.”
