ON THE LINE
Frowning, Chris Carey held his phone closer. “What do you mean we need to shake things up?” He harrumphed back against his headboard.
“We’re in a rut, Christopher.” His girlfriend, Danielle Atali, sighed with an audible shake of her head. “We’ve got to Columbus our way out of this.”
A rut? They were in a rut? Chris adjusted his glasses. He supposed that, sure, they’d both been a little tired lately. A little overworked and stressed. But a rut? “How are we supposed to do that?”
“Close your eyes,” she urged into the phone.
He huffed a bit, pouting, but did as she asked. It was, after all, a simple request. “Okay.”
“Imagine us,” her voice whispered in his ear. “Imagine us in your room. On your bed.”
Chris let out a sigh and tried. His mind focused, picturing her painted and so-mobile mouth forming her words. He thought about her tongue, slick and sly, as it slid across those lips, leaving a sheen in its wake. Chris let his mind remember the taste of her kiss, an utterly illogical mix of heated want and cool mint.
He imagined the familiar flush that always swept over her cheeks right before he took her mouth, that visible sign of her excitement that never failed to fuel his own. He knew that a blush like that could travel down her neck, her shoulder, her spine in a tickled shiver with the simplest touch.
And then there, in his room, on his bed, in his mind, like magic, she was laid seductive and stretched-out before him. He imagined the dark fall of curls that clouded around her face and shoulders, framing bared, bronzed skin perfectly.
His hands itched to grab the curves of her body. The swell of her sweeping hips. The pointed tips of her delectable breasts. The length of her long legs. The soft spread of sun-ripened skin, that always held the sweet scent of citrus, over the generous lushness of her body.
He could hear his own breath rasp as his mind transported her from her dorm room to the foot of his bed.
“Good,” he heard her coo in his ear. “Now that you have me there, whatever will you do with me?” she asked in a mockingly naïve voice that left him feeling provoked and promised.
“I want you naked.”
It had just slipped out without him realizing it. To be honest, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d conjured Danielle wearing her favorite pair of rubber duck covered panties, those tiny, yellow quackers taunting him in his fantasies.
He heard her laugh. “I’m not already naked?” Her chuckle lowered. “What am I wearing?” she asked in a husky tease.
“Silk stockings, stilettos, a lace thong,” he grumbled, not about to tell her what his mind had actually given her.
“All right.” Her tone sounded like she approved of his costume choice. “So take it off,” she told him. “With your teeth.”
Chris paused, his face heating.
He didn’t actually know what she looked like naked.
Not completely.
They hadn’t done that yet.
He’d seen her topless. He’d seen her without her pants on.
“Am I naked yet?”
Oh, yeah.
“Um.” He coughed and ruffled his short, red hair. “No, not yet.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose, feeling his face flush a shade closer to his hair.
“Good,” she said breezily. “I want you to tell me when you do it. Tell me how you do it.”
How?
He paled.
How was he supposed to tell her how he would strip her when he’d never actually done it? And wasn’t he supposed to be doing this with his teeth? He couldn’t talk if his mouth was full of lace and silk, could he?
He swallowed hard. Uh. “I go up to you and I take off your clothes.” He hated how it sounded almost like a question.
“Jeez, slow down, speedster,” she scolded. “Get in the game. Phone sex isn’t a wham-bam, thank you, ma’am sport. Go slower. Describe it to me.”
He sighed and squirmed. Jeez, he didn’t know how to do this. Talk dirty. It was one thing to read stuff like that. Much different to watch it in a video or imagine it in his head. But right now, with all this expectation bearing down on him, he felt stupid, choking on all these unsaid words piling up at the back of his throat.
“Okay, fine.” She sighed. “I’ll start us off. But,” she added, her tone haughty as a grade school teacher, “while I describe me getting naked, you have to get naked too. Like in real life. Right now. Okay?”
He bit his lip. “Will you get naked too?”
She paused as if shrugging. “Sure, why not?”
He nodded. “Okay.” He’d do it. Like she’d said, why not?
“That’s the spirit! Okay,” she said, sounding eager...
To read the rest of this story, please check out Cunning Linguists.
Check out my kinky phone sex story "On the Line" in this intriguing anthology from The New Smut Project.
Thirty authors, including Rachel Kramer Bussel, Sonni de Soto, Kristan X, and Good Sex Award honorees D. Fostalove and jem zero, share clever, sensual stories of the many ways we communicate about and around our desires. From erotic epistolary tales to steamy retellings of classics, this collection bursts with memorable and hot new reading material. Banter simmers until the sexual tension boils over. An academic aches with curiosity about the mysterious woman behind the letters she translates–and the mysterious woman working alongside her. Lovers seek a common language after the fall of Babel. Without a physical body, a spaceship’s AI makes love to her captain with words. A domme and her sub negotiate kink titles that reflect all they are to each other. After saving his nonbinary partner, Victor Frankenstein celebrates both erotically and electrically. Diverse characters find pleasure in body writing, music, virtual realities, fanfiction, first time phone sex, the queer truth behind local folklore, and reading aloud despite a boyfriend’s best attempts at distraction. Stories ranging from the lighthearted to the bittersweet explore what happens when someone finds just the right thing to say in bed—or says the wrong one—or speaks eloquently without using any words at all.
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