to reply, a moment in which my heart seems to stop. ‘Yes,’ he says finally. ‘Read me some more.’
I push my laptop aside, move myself further up the bed, until I’m leaning back against the pillows. I look at the words on the page, the familiar, dirty words. I swallow. I take a deep breath. And then I read some more.
Sally gazed at his erection, so long, so thick. Her mouth watered with anticipation. She had waited for this. She needed this.
‘Open your mouth,’ he commanded her.
Sally obeyed without question
The first thrust was sudden, sharp, deep. He sank his fingers into her hair, holding her firmly. She couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t matter. She could taste him, rich and musky. Her clit throbbed, and she could feel how wet her pussy was becoming. But she didn’t touch herself. She couldn’t, not unless he commanded it. She was his to use, as he would a toy for his pleasure.
‘Ah, Sally,’ he said, as he pulled back, and thrust again into her mouth. ‘No one sucks cock quite as well as you.’
She closed her lips around his thickness then, and began to suck, pressing her tongue against the thick vein that ran the length of the underside of his erection.
He groaned, and pushed himself deeper into her throat, until the heavy swing of his balls pressed against her chin. Then he withdrew.
Sally gasped, pulling in the air she needed, already seeking him again.
‘No,’ he said.
I pause. I’m clutching the phone tightly, and for a moment, I wonder if Phil is still there. I half hope he isn’t, because I’m not sure I can read the next part. My pussy is throbbing insistently, aching with the need to be touched. I move my legs restlessly. My knickers are damp. He can’t see you, I remind myself. Not that it matters. I’m still not about to masturbate while he’s on the other end of the phone. But I’m so hot. I shove myself upright, pull up my skirt, and tug my knickers off. Cool air settles on my heated skin. Better. Much better. I tug my skirt back down.
‘Amy,’ he says. Just my name, that’s all. Just that one word.
‘Yes?’
‘Carry on.’
I should stop this. What we’re doing is weird and wrong and inappropriate. But I don’t, because it might be all those things, but it’s also shockingly, undeniably exciting.
‘Amy,’ he says. ‘I’m waiting.’
There’s something in his tone, something rough and demanding. I’ve never heard him speak that way before, not to me anyway, and it switches something on inside me.
‘Touch yourself,’ he ordered her. ‘I want to see you touch yourself, Sally. Show me what a wanton slut you are.’
‘Yes, Sir.’ Sally lifted her skirt. Underneath, she wore the smallest red satin panties that exposed almost everything. She slipped her fingers inside herself, frantic now, aroused almost to breaking point by the feel of his gaze on her.
I pause for a moment, force myself to stay calm, because I know what happens next and I want Phil to know too. There is something deliciously erotic about what we’re doing. This is Phil, I think to myself. It doesn’t dampen my arousal. If anything, it makes it stronger. This is Phil. My friend, Phil. I know I shouldn’t think about him and sex together, but I do. I often wonder what he’s like in bed. I wonder what he likes, what he doesn’t. I wonder what his cock is like.
I bet it’s big. I bet it’s really, really big.
‘Amy,’ he says.
‘Yes?’
‘Why have you stopped?’
God, his voice. ‘No reason,’ I say, the words spilling out too quickly. I make myself focus, start to read again, though I stutter and rush.
Two fingers. Three. She leaned back, exposing herself to him, wanting him to see what she was doing, knowing he would appreciate it.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Very good.’
His hand slid round the thick length of his cock, and his wrist began to pump. He held himself so tightly, squeezing until the head of his erection darkened. Sally had asked him once if it hurt, when he pleasured himself that way.
‘Yes,’ he had replied. ‘All pleasure is pain, don’t you think?’
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. This is wrong, this is so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should stop, now, before things get any more out of hand. If I stop now, I can pretend this never happened.
‘Amy,’ he says. ‘Don’t stop.’
His voice is rough and aroused. Is he touching himself? For a moment, the world seems to freeze as an image of Phil with his trousers unfastened and his cock in his hand flashes into my mind. I try to hold onto it, but it slips away from me, a fleeting, blurry thing.
I sit upright on the bed, listening intently. I’m reading the words from the page but I’m not listening to them. I’m listening to Phil, desperate for any clue, trying to get that image back. Trying to see it clearly.
‘I want to see you come, Sally,’ he said. ‘I want to see your lovely breasts flush and your clit throb and you back arch as you get yourself off. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
His words aroused her even more. She rubbed at her clit, uncontrollable sounds of pleasure escaping from her as her excitement grew, as her heart pounded. She spread her legs wider, hips jerking, body crying out for the hard possession of his cock. And just when she thought she could stand it no longer, he moved closer, fist pumping.
‘Now, Sally,’ he said. ‘Now.’
Hot strands of thick come coated her face, her lips, her tongue as her orgasm rushed through her. She cried out her pleasure as he spilled his seed all over her face.
I stop reading. My pussy is wet and my back is slippery with perspiration. I’m so strung up and aroused and shocked that I can barely breathe. I always find that scene exciting. I always masturbate after I read it. It’s the only way I can persuade my body to calm, to settle. But that’s a private thing, a secret thing, and this isn’t private, or secret. ‘Phil?’
A silence. A space. A pause. I force myself to breathe.
‘Yeah?’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Absolutely,’ he says. ‘Are you?’
I don’t know. ‘Of course.’
‘Do you have a lot of books like that?’
‘A
