Your Voice, My Hand - Sex Stories

Your Voice, My Hand

... tonight!" Mortified, I pressed a hand to my forehead. "Maybe the meds are making me feeltoo good."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, Justine." I heard you clear your throat, and I sensed you were considering your next words carefully. "I just hope you, uh, have something reliable to help you out with all that masturbating."

Your tone was light, but what you said made a surge of hot lust course through me. "Well, my vibrator died on me, so I only have my hand. And your voice," I dared to add.

Again you fell silent, and I waited for you to tell me we needed to change the subject. Instead, you murmured, "You like my voice?"

I tried and failed to stifle a giggle. "Paul, your voice could make any woman drop her panties."

"Is that right?" That voice I loved so much grew husky, thick with arousal. "And have you already dropped your panties, Justine?"

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. I realized then how much I wanted this, how I ached for it. "Do you want me to?" I asked softly.

The sound you made, between a sigh and a moan, got me slick and wet. "I want you to, baby. So much."

In seconds, I'd taken off not only my panties but the rest of my clothes as well. "I'm naked for you now." My own voice had grown high-pitched and breathy. "Does that excite you, Paul?"

"Oh yes! I'm lying on the bed, stroking myself through my pants."

Over the past six months, I'd grown so close to you, eager for your every word. To know I aroused you made me ...

... tremble with need. "Take out your cock," I urged.

You laughed low and soft, obviously pleased by my request. "Anything for you, Justine." I heard your groan, and I imagined you stroking faster. "Tease your nipples."

I did as you said, rolling those sensitive peaks between my fingertips. As I grew wetter, a deep, insistent throb started within me. I loved the thought of you jerking your dick while you listened to my breathing quicken. "I'm tugging on them, pinching them now," I revealed.

"I love that! Fuck, I'm so hard for you!" Your own breaths grew shallow.

"I'm so wet, I'm actually getting the sheet damp!" Even I was shocked at my body's response to you. Your voice, your lust, excited me more than the touch or tongue or cock of past lovers.

"I just want to bury my face between your thighs. I want to spend hours tasting you, making you come again and again." You made a sound like a desperate growl. "Rub your clit for me, sweetheart!"

My fingers worked furiously at my clit. There was no time for a slow build-up; I was already quaking. At that point, I still had no idea what you looked like. When I tried to imagine your features, they remained abstract in my mind, like the self-portrait you'd painted. And yet your gentle commands and eager descriptions of what you wanted to do to me were enough to bring me to the edge. A helpless cry escaped my lips. "Paul!"

"You're close, so ready to come, aren't you? I am, too, Justine. My God, what I wouldn't give to be in ...