Phone sex cherry

A simple phone call. That’s how it started out. A friend in my personal life that I have been attracted to for some time now. We have never been intimate with one another, not for lack of me trying. I have done nothing short of beg and plead for a night, an hour, a moment to spend with him alone. He is a man of morals. An old fashioned way about him, he simply cannot be intimate with a woman without the prospect of commitment. Something I cannot give to him. I cannot be intimate with a man without acceptance of what I do, something he cannot give to me. I do believe he respects my decision to do what I do, but it is something that will always keep a physical distance between us. Sure, I knew that telling him of my profession would have that effect on my hopes of us being intimate but I respect him too much to not be honest with him.

We have danced around the issue of sex. It is fun to flirt, to let the mind run wild even when you know it will not lead to where you would like it to. He knows just how bad I want him, I make that very clear but I think he knows I also respect his boundaries. I enjoy talking with him, we have spent over a year now sharing one another’s thoughts. Thoughts on love, life, dreams and desires. I have felt quite connected to him in a way that I seldom connect with people. I do not open up to him as much as I would like to, but that is just me. Again, it’s back to being safe. But I do share a lot with him and we have had some quite deep conversations in the past. He let’s me see life in a different light. We are so opposite in our views on sex and relationships, him wishing to be a little more risqué (in a physical sense) like myself and I wishing to be a little more risqué (in an emotional sense) like him. That’s what is so great about what we have. He is so apart from me in how he sees the world, something that attracts me to him.

I was once him. I once believed that a man and a woman should love one another to be able to make love. I once believed in happily ever after. I once believed in the dream, the "everything". He reminds me of what I used to be. I need him to remind me of a time. A time of hope and innocence. A time of faith in the unknown, a belief in fate. He keeps me in touch with that part of me, something I thought I had lost so long ago. Not so much a part of me that I long to be again but a distant memory of who I used to be. I do not wish to seem as though I am not content with who I am today. I have grown emotionally into something greater than I could have imagined. Through losing that time of hope and innocence I gained self confidence and independence. I am strong and self reliant. Guarded but safe. I need to feel that in my life. But he takes my mind back to that place none-the-less.

My attraction to him stems from just that. Yes, he is visually stimulating to me but as you know the true attraction for me must come from mental stimulus. I must feel a connection of the minds and while we are so different I feel that with him. I have learned to take what he is willing to give me. What is safe for him to give. What he is comfortable with giving. It has been his friendship I value more than what a physical relationship could give me. Although I doubt I will ever stop longing to feel his lips on mine.

Back to the phone call. Tonight I am taking a break. I do this quite often, to gather my thoughts or to not think at all. I bring my computer and check into my favorite hotel room that comes complete with king bed, fireplace and jacuzzi tub. I open the door, take off my heels, knee highs and pants. I open my media player and let the music play. I call him up in hopes that he will be there. I hear his voice and I feel okay. I instantly feel that innocence. We chat about life, as we always do. The conversation leads to sex, as it always does. This is the first night we have ever discussed the reality that physically we could never be together. It’s been a known silent fact since we started this game but this is the first time we had verbalized it.

I joke and tease with him about giving up his morals for one night with me in hopes that he knows I would never truly ask that of him. I admire him for standing behind what he believes in. He tells me he is only half dressed and jokingly asks about the toys I brought with me for my night out. I am serious when I tell him I always carry my favorite toy with me. He does not believe me until he hears the vibration against the phone. I don’t joke about such things!

He tells me he could never participate in phone sex. I agree with him on that point. We laugh about the situation you would find yourself in, in such a case. Is the person on the other end of the line really doing what they say they are doing? What if they’re just drinking their coffee and reading the newspaper? Both of us envisioning how awkward it would be to talk about sex in the present tense. Teasing one another yes, but to actually be on the phone and both be stimulating ourselves to the point of orgasm just seems so ridiculous. We both laugh and I ask him if he is really half dressed.

I lay myself on the bed propped up by those wonderfully fluffed hotel pillows. He tells me that in fact he really is only half dressed. I tell him about the mirror across from me as he tells me he is climbing into bed. I think we both know now where this is going. Someplace that only minutes ago we both thought was totally absurd. We both nervously settle into this new experience. How do you have phone sex? I am not one to scream and pant, to whisper dirty sweet nothings. He is not one to even think of what is happening. But somehow through nervous chuckles the line grows silent. I ask him if he is drinking coffee and he assures me he is not. He asks how he is to know that I am not. I put my pocket rocket to the phone. Still unconvinced I let him listen in as I place it between my thighs. He is convinced after hearing that I am indeed wet.

I close my eyes and I can see him. An image I have never seen in its'true form yet I can imagine it to be. Alone in his bed, I picture him with the phone in his hand. Normally when we talk he skips around describing anything sexual in explicit detail. I can tell he is not used to openly discussing sex, nor is he used to someone as sexually aggressive as I am. Tonight I ask him if he is hard and he tells me “very”. One word, it was simple but it said so much. If he were not laying in his bed, alone, and being aroused by what was happening I know him well enough to know that “very” would not have come from him. He was letting go, and I was so exited to be a part of that with him.

My eyes closed, it was silent. But that silence was more erotic than any amount of sexual taunting could be. I could hear his breathing, it was all I could focus on. The more I heard his breaths stagger the more excited I became. The longer the silence the closer to him I felt. I could feel him tense up, I could sense his need to let this happen. I could let myself feel him next to me, the closest I will ever be able to feel him. I broke the silence briefly to tell him how good he felt to me. Our bodies far apart but our minds in the same place. His breaths I could feel, like he were next to me, his harder, mine harder. I listen for him to get there. I know I cannot go there until he does. I need to know that he can let go in a way he never thought was something he could do. I try to contain my breathing. Enough for him to hear my excitement yet shallow enough to let his sounds come to me. I hear him fight to hold back. But he can’t and he is there. That was all I needed to hear. I was so close until that moment when I knew I could wait no more. He kept silent for me. He just listened while I imagined him on top of me. I imagined his head bent down to mine to kiss me as he entered me. He listened while I imagined his arms straddled at my sides, his chest pressed against mine. He listened while I imagined us letting go together, that moment I have thought of so many times in the past year. And then I did too. I let go. With him so far, yet so close I let go.

We didn’t say too much right after. He said it right when he said it felt awkward for a moment. I couldn’t resist a whisper to him, “we just had sex!” “I suppose we did, kinda, sorta….” Was all he said. He’s a thinker, he has to analyze everything until it makes sense. I think we were both somewhat surprised by this experience and I could sense that he was trying to analyze what had just happened. “Don’t think” I begged of him, “just take it to be what it is. We didn’t touch, we didn’t break any rules here. We had phone sex and it was one amazing erotic encounter. It was our first time and I just took your phone sex cherry!”

It sounds so simple. Phone sex. Impersonal, something dirty. But for me it was something so much more. We went somewhere neither of us thought we could go. It wasn’t planned. It was a place we found ourselves going instinctively. I know our minds were in different places, he made his experience his own as I made it mine. It was better than it could ever if we were physically together. That was something we could both give each other and remain within our boundaries. It was safe for him, it was safe for me. The only thing missing…….what I have nicknamed “the sheet syndrome”. Some things just can’t be replaced by an imagination! It was four hours we spent on the phone. More was said in those few short minutes of silence than we had said to one another all night. Sometimes it’s not about what you say but rather what goes unsaid.