Pen Pals

Cynthia did this, letting out a mewling noise of frustration as she danced over the two places she needed pressure most. For the first time, Gerald let out a quiet groan. The desperation he could hear mounting in the woman on the other line was intoxicating. Could he really be the cause of that desire?

"I wish you were here, doing this for real," she panted, arching her hips in response to a press of her finger to her throbbing nub. "Though I would want to be pleasuring you, as well. I would give anything to slide my lips over your cock while I sit on your face."

"Oh God," Gerald groaned, the hand holding the phone clenching in response. "That would be amazing. I wouldn't be able to control myself, sucking on your sweet little clit as hard as I could, desperate to make you come."

"And you would make me come. Then then moment I had I would slide down and sink down on your cock so I could ride you hard. Can you imagine me bouncing up and down on you?"

He sucked in a breath, unknowingly moving his hand faster just as she picked up the pace of her rubbing. The two moved closer to the edge together, panting and moaning, the words throwing them both past the point of no return.

"Yes, I can picture it. I can feel it...you feel so good, Cynthia. You're so tight, and wet. I could fuck you forever."

"Fuck, Gerald, keep talking," she begged, feeling that heat building and the tension curling low in her abdomen. "I am so close...keep going."

On the other side of the line she heard a small grunt as Gerald gritted his teeth and began to jack himself off in earnest, wanting to keep pace and come along with her.

"I would want to feel you coming around my cock, but I wouldn't finish yet. I would need more of you, always more. So I would pull you off of me and order you onto your hands and knees. I would duck down to lick you a few more times, tasting that honey of yours before slamming back inside of you..."

"Mm, yes...fuck my pussy," Cynthia sobbed, and Gerald nearly lost it right there but managed to barely hold on.

"I would move harder and faster, slamming your whole body forward. Would you touch yourself for me while I fucked you?"

"Yes," she whispered harshly, so he had to strain to hear her voice past their panting breath. "I want to feel your balls slapping against the back of my hand while I rub my clit for you."

"Oh fuck," he grunted in response, right on the edge now. "That is so sexy...come for me, Cynthia."

Cynthia whimpered in response, jerking her hips, grinding her palm against her straining clit as two fingers slammed in and out of her quivering walls. She was right there, so close she was almost sitting up in her tension, every muscle taut.

Gerald was much the same, his hand a blur, the phone balanced in the crook of his neck against his chin as his other hand roughly tugged and fondled his balls. He wasn't going to last more than a few strokes, and he knew it. But not yet, he needed the sweet sound of her release or he would feel as though he had lost something precious...

"Come, Cynthia!" he groaned, and there was a sound of desperation in his voice that shot straight to her cunt. "Now!"

That was all she needed. With a cry that was much louder than she had intended, she fell back against the couch and arched her back as her climax crashed through her. Every second was white hot and exquisite, her body shaking under the force of it.

Hearing her shout of pleasure threw Gerald over the edge, and he let out a loud groan as his cock jerked. Within seconds he had soaked front of his trousers and the bottom of his shirt. He grunted as the last of the waves of pleasure shuddered through him, listening to the angelic little whimpers as Cynthia came down.

Soon there was nothing but panting on both ends of the line, neither speaking as they caught her breath. It was Cynthia who spoke first.

"Holy shit," she whispered. Gerald laughed, closing his eyes as he grabbed some tissues off the coffee table and cleaned himself, then collapsed back against his armchair.

"My sentiments exactly, Dear," he replied hoarsely, and heard Cynthia giggle a little shyly in response.

There was no awkwardness as they sat there in the silence, enjoying the afterglow. It felt natural and satisfying, and Gerald felt better and younger than he had in years. While she was not nearly as starved for sex, Cynthia would later realize that just mutual masturbation with the older man had been more intense than fucking her last several boyfriends.

But before long reality set back in, and Gerald cleared his throat. "That was lovely, but --"

"I know," Cynthia interrupted with a smile. "I should get going myself."

He let out a small sigh of relief, glad that she wasn't offended by his suggested departure. It wasn't that he wanted to end the call; far from it, he wanted to sit on the line all night, even in silence. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at peace. But his wife was going to be home soon, and he had to clean up more thoroughly; certainly, he needed to change his clothes.

"This was fun," she told him, breaking into his thoughts.

"Yes, I -- thank you, Cynthia. It was lovely."

Smiling a little more widely, though he couldn't see her, she replied, "Ditto...goodbye, Gerald." The call cut off, leaving him listening to the hollow sound of am empty line.

* * *

Three days later, Gerald was getting nervous. He had not heard from Cynthia at all, and he was much too anxious to contact her himself. Was she regretting what they had done? Had she gotten all she wanted? Had their fragile friendship been shattered by a single night of distant pleasure?

The thoughts plagued him as he checked his email that evening, the same hope he had felt rising within him for the last three days once more taking away his breath. Only this time, it was not filled with bitter disappointment. She had finally written him back.

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Saturday, April 15, 2012 3:30 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

Gerald,

Sorry I haven't written, I was debating whether I should. However, I am afraid a small DIY project has opened up in my bedroom, and it is far too advanced for me to handle myself. I could sure use your...expertise.

Do you think you could perhaps come by this week to take a look? I was thinking Wednesday night, around 7? I'll bring the wine.

Cynthia