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A Wow of the Now
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A Wow of the Now Cheryl and I were FWB for years before her employer reassigned her to a place three hours inland. At first we traded a few hot and heavy visits about a month apart which then dwindled to two months apart, and then winter came and travel was difficult. Then a co-worker caught her fancy and since they lived in a very small town with not much to do, they moved in together and got married. Still, she admitted that she missed the coast, the island, the beach, the secluded beach in the reserve and all that that implies. She had a few relatives who live in town on the mainland, so there was reason for her to come this way—even if they all knew she was married and had met her husband. I had “moved on,” as the expression of the day has it, until about two years into her married life when she started dropping hints. Apparently he had lost interest and was never adventurous to begin with. But the most memorable of Cheryl’s summary complaints on the matter was clearly a comparison to me: “He doesn’t think kink.” I couldn’t prevent a laugh and tried to make a joke of it: “I think kink all the time.” She was too earnest to sound amused: “You and I think alike.” Finally she contrived a weekend here without him. An aunt was hospitalized and in dire condition, and Cousin Debbie who always flirted with me was willing to cover for her. On a Friday night the three of us were in a<b> downtown </font></b>bar, and then Debbie left. Cheryl put a hand on my wrist, “I need a ride home,” and before I could speak she added, “Your home.” I’d say it was a blast from the past, but it was as much and more of a wow of the now, something I would have never imagined—in fact something that I might have said no to had it been mentioned ahead of time, but it just happened. Good chance that anyone else reading this may take it all for granted, but as one of the last people over the age of twelve in the civilized world not to have a cellphone, I hardly knew what to do. And I was hard and in her mouth, straddling her head as she lay back on a pillow, when a few sultry measures of Ethiopian jazz sounded from the pocketbook she had placed on the nightstand. As I say, I didn’t know whether to pull away or stay still. When she took my cock out of her mouth so that she could reach with both hands, I had an impulse to hold her face still and thrust back into her mouth. I gained control of myself as she opened the phone and said “Hello Ben,” and then with one hand holding the cell to one side of her face, her other hand pressed my cock to the other side, and she moved her head in a nodding motion while listening to him. For a few minutes he spoke and she added little more than an occasional yes and two or three nos and not yets. She looked straight up and we stared into each other’s eyes as we so often did when she took my cock or held my balls in her mouth and while I sucked her clit or tongue-fucked her. She noticed that I was in some state of amused shock and put a finger over her lips to remind me to be silent. We both had to suppress laughs, and then she hurriedly spoke to him, a tad louder to hide any hint of my presence, something about a dinner date they had with friends in a few days. Her last words before he started speaking again were “Oh, this is making me so hungry!” And as if to prove it she took my erection from her cheek and into her mouth and sucked as hard as ever. No idea what he was saying but was grateful he went on as he did. I let her know with a look that I was ready, and she took it out. I was feeling it when she said into the phone, “I’m sorry Ben, what was that you said about Wednesday?” That was a ruse to have him talk while my sperm splashed onto her face. She didn’t take it in her mouth for the sake of being able to answer her husband, but when he started in on something else she gave my cock another suck. Then she motioned for me to go down on her, which I gladly did. I was surprised when she started a low moan, but not when I heard her explain to him, “Oh Ben, I wish you were here to play with my pussy..." From what I heard, the remark made him only want to end the conversation. She then made a sucking sound on the phone, "Please Ben, let's have cellphone sex, say that you'll suck my tits, my pussy, my ass, lick me everywhere, put your cock in me..." I narrowed my lips and flicked my tongue on her clit. If he was talking she drowned him out with a scream, just as she drowned me in her cream. I was so aroused that I nearly creamed her feet, and I had to mount her, penetrate her, thrust deep into her until I had to get out so that I could shoot another load on her rather than in her. When I did we were both writhing, moaning, groaning, slightly laughing with afterglow. I rolled off her, my chest wet with the semen I had poured on her tits, and we lay side by side staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before she handed me the phone: "It's for you." I felt a slight shock until I figured she had to be joking and took the phone to my ear. To be safe, I said nothing. Then I heard a woman's voice, calling me by name: "So what do you think of cellphone sex?" Took me a moment to shake off the surprise: "Hello Debbie! What was that you said about dinner next week?" |
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